Prisons, Towers, Yeatsian Bliss, and Rants about Economics

I began the day at Kilmainham Gaol, a historic jail a short bus ride away from the centre of Dublin. Kilmainham was known for its Victorian innovations of individualized cells and natural light. The oval, open structure of one of the main sections allowed the guards to view many prison cells at once.

I had some fun being trapped in one of the cells:

Most of the jail, however, was very somber. We walked through narrow corridors that were cold, dark, drafty and grey, opening to a courtyard.

Kilmainhaim is most famous as the site where the Easter Rising leaders were held and executed. At the site of their execution, there stands a plaque with all their names, and an Irish flag. The Rising was a critical turning point in Ireland's struggle for independence. Initially, public opinion was against the Rising, but when the leaders were executed one by one by the British, they became martyrs, and public opinion swayed towards violent opposition. The Rising, in turn, was followed by the Irish War for Independence from 1919-1921.

After Kilmainham, I decided to take a trip to Sandy Cove to visit Martello Tower, the location of "Telemachus," the first chapter of Ulysses. I thought the train station was kind of nice:

Sandy Cove is a beautiful suburban area on the water, just outside of Dublin.

Martello Tower off in the distance:

Martello Tower is now home to the James Joyce Museum. There were a lot of people there, although I don't think they were there to learn about Joyce-- they were more interested in swimming. I sincerely wished I had brought a bathing suit...

Inside the museum, there was a lot of great Joyce paraphernalia, including his death mask, a first edition of Ulysses, posters, paintings, letters written by Joyce, etc.

The tower is special not just because it's the opening of Ulysses, but also because Joyce lived there for several days, until his landlord kicked him out by firing a gun right over his head.

One of the rooms where Joyce lived:

From the top of the tower, there were some really nice views of Sandy Cove:

After Sandy Cove, I went back to Dublin and spent several hours in the Yeats Exhibition at the National Library. The exhibition was fantastic. When you walk in, there are a series of screens projecting Yeats's poems, along with images that relate to the imagery in the poems. As the poems are projected, they are recited by a diverse cast, from Yeats reciting "The Lake Isle of Innisfree," to Seamus Heaney and Sinead O'Connor. There are different rooms pertaining to different topics surrounding Yeats and his work. Each room has a video documentary describing the topic, including video interviews of different scholars and poets talking about the relevant topic. I particularly enjoyed the video about Yeats and the Occult, as well as the one about Yeats and the Abbey Theatre.

In the evening, I went to see "Outsiders" by David McWilliams at the Abbey. David McWilliams is a leading economist in Ireland who was commissioned by the Abbey to create a piece on the current economic climate. The show was not really a play- it was more of an economics lecture with a set behind it. I thought the set designer made a brave attempt to make McWilliams's script into a work of theatre by creating a dynamic space with which McWilliams could interact, but ultimately I think the limitations of the script were insurmountable. The show consisted of McWilliams ranting for 2 or so hours about how bleak the current economic situation is in Ireland, how the people who caused the crisis are still in charge, how we need to bridge the gap between the "insiders" who are the bankers and the "outsiders" who are the rest of us, and concluded with the affirmation that what Ireland needs is "Joycean capitalism"-- the kind of creative risk-taking that Joyce was so famous for--in order to revitalize the country. The last part, I thought, was an interesting coda to the day.

After the show, I was talking to a gentleman named John Fairleigh. John is on the board of the Stewart Parker Trust, which awards a cash prize every year to the most promising Irish playwright. I told John about my research, and he was very gracious and kind in offering to help me find people to interview, the first of whom would turn out to be Lynne Parker, artistic director of Rough Magic Theatre Company.

Put a Cork in It!

Phew, okay, lots of catching up to do! Last weekend I was in Wicklow and didn't have internet access (more on that to follow in a later post), which is why I got so behind with the blog. My apologies...

Two weekends ago, I went to Cork for the Midsummer Festival. I saw eight shows, so it's all a wee bit of a blur, but I will try and recount the experience to the best of my abilities.

Cork is a quaint little city in the south of Ireland. I took a bus from Dublin, which allowed me to catch some views of the green Irish countryside:

The center of Cork City:

The view from the hostel room in Cork. I didn't capture it in this picture, but the room overlooked a graveyard (creepy).

I was surprised that Cork was so gentrified and commercialized. St. Patrick's Street, the main road that runs through the city, has many of the same stores and restaurants as you would find on Henry Street- one of Dublin's more popular shopping areas. Often times, I would walk down a random side street thinking it would be quaint and small-towny, and find lots of different commercial businesses:

Okay, a brief summary of the shows I saw:

The Last Cargo Cult, by Mike Daisey:

The first show I saw. Mike Daisey is an actor/writer from New York who devises his own monologue shows based on contemporary issues. Fusing funny, angry rants a-la Lewis Black with a conversational and minimalist aesthetic reminiscent of Spalding Gray, Daisey addressed our culture's obsession with money. As I walked into the theatre, I was handed a 50 Euro bill (about 63 dollars). At the end of the show he told everyone that collectively we had been handed what he was paid to perform this show, and it was our decision whether to keep the money, give him back part of it, or give him more if we thought he deserved to be paid more. The issues brought up in the show itself were provocative, and although I think his speeches were a little long at times, I would definitely recommend going to see him in New York.

The post-show look for The Last Cargo Cult:

"Best Before":

An interactive show by a Canadian troupe. Each audience member had a video game controller. There was a big screen up and a video game called "Bestland," where we were each assigned a cute little bouncy ball character in a virtual world that was the society of "Bestland." We then made decisions collectively as a group- "do we want equal distribution of wealth?" "do we want to have an army in bestland?" It was an interesting concept, and it was fun to play around in bestland, but I thought the show lacked a cohesive trajectory/argument and missed several opportunities to really provoke the audience. It was most interesting to see how people responded as a group to some difficult questions about social issues, and I think this is where the show needed to go. How does this virtual society represent a microcosm of our own? What problems in Bestland are also present in our society today? If Bestland is a social experiment, then we should walk away thinking about what is says about us.

"Showstopper!":

Basically, an improvised musical performed by a British group of improv actors. Not different from the improvised musicals you might see in New York, but it was so interesting to me to see how references to American culture have a an "outside looking in" perspective. For example, when they made fun of Sondheim, James Dean, Jack Kerouac, or American fast food, I really got the sense of American culture being something separate and unique, which is something I don't really have a sense of when I'm home- something I take for granted.

"Plasticine":

A site-specific piece that took place in a huge, dingy, deserted nightclub that was set in a grimy, post-Soviet Eastern Europe. When we walked in to the space, there was a young man hanging from a noose in the corner. There were several spotlight operators waving spots from above us and all around us, making them seem like searchlights, like we were trapped in some kind of prison. The play was very disturbing, telling the story of a young man who is abused and beaten down by the world around him. The audience had to stand the whole time, and occasionally move to a different location. The actors moved through the crowd such that sometimes you didn't know if someone was in the audience or an actor, all of which created the effect of really being in this gruesome world. Although the world was very effectively staged, I thought a lot of the violence seemed to be there just for the sake of being there, as opposed to being used to tell a story.

"2 Dimensional Life of Her":

Perhaps the most interesting show I saw in Cork. How to describe it? There were paper drops on which a video of a paper world was projected. There was a cut-out of a woman's silhouette and a video projection of a woman super-imposed on the cut-out. The space was then riddled with pieces of actual paper, all creating the sense of an artist's messy studio. Eventually we learn that the woman is actually there elsewhere in the space, moving the paper drops at different moments. Everything was very well synchronized into a simple story- the claymation-like figures that come to life in the video break out of their paper world and burn the set down (in the video). They then rebuild the set upon the woman's command, to create the happily ever after. The piece seemed to be engaging in an interesting dialogue about what is "real," the artistic process, and the differences between film and theatre. The piece was only 45 minutes long, and seemed to be created so that children could enjoy it as well, which is somewhat unique I think.

"FML (Fuck My Life)":

A devised piece with 10-15 young teenagers from Cork. The cast played themselves, and talked about their struggles growing up, and about contemporary social issues like suicide, alcoholism, etc. The cast was very funny and entertaining to watch, although I do feel that they were a little stranded by their director and dramaturg. The piece didn't seem to have a narrative thrust- they just gave random anecdotes without ever building to anything. Also, I thought the pacing was terrible, and there were several unnecessary lags, which was unfortunate, because the cast was really great.

"From Away":

Another piece by Mike Daisey. This one was about his thoughts so far on Ireland and the Irish people. The script wasn't as developed as the previous show, purely because he started it when he landed in Ireland several weeks ago and is continuing to build the show as he travels around touring the country. I thought it was too much about his life, and not enough about Ireland, but again, probably because it needs more development. It was still entertaining, and definitely something I would consider going to in Donegal to see how it has grown.

"Cirque De Legume":

An amazing, hilarious clown show. Two Lecoq-trained actors used only a chair and a crate of vegetables to create "the most famous vegetable circus on earth." They basically used the vegetables to create the different acts: the horses, the Arabian knife-throwing, a circus seal. My personal favorite was the onion striptease. This was the first red nose clown show I've seen in Ireland, and it was great to see actors with such wonderful physicality. I'm hoping to interview at least one of the actors later on in the trip.

I also went to the bar run by the brother of the woman who attended the voice workshop with her dad in Dublin. He gave me a Bulmers on the house and was very friendly, just as they said he would be.

Another view of the river:

The river at night:

St. Patrick's Street at night:

The river (again) at night:

"The Sea Air Sours It": A Pilgrimage to the Guinness Storehouse

I went with Leila to the Guinness Storehouse, and I believe it deserves its own post. I know what you’re thinking, “more talk about Guinness?” Sweet Jaysus, Ben! Have you gone mad? Ok, I promise it’s really interesting, and that after this post I will never mention Guinness again (well that last part is probably not true).

The story of Guinness is a magical one. Arthur Guinness began brewing his miracle elixir way back in the 18^th century, and through several incarnations perfected (and perhaps even invented) what we know today as stout. Guinness is comprised of four natural ingredients: water, hops, yeast and barley (so it’s good for you). Arthur Guinness founded his factory in an area where he would have easy access to crisp, clear water flowing down from the Wicklow Mountains as well as to fields of hearty Irish barley. He was so confident in his endeavor that he signed a 9,000 year lease on the property, a document now enshrined in a glass case in the floor in the center of the storehouse.

Now, when I thought storehouse, I thought a small quaint factory with good ol’ Irish charm. What I walked into was a HUGE factory/museum/DISNEY ATTRACTION, a circular structure (it’s shaped like a pint/barrel, of course) stretching seven floors up into the Dublin sky.

Boy, do those Guinness people know their tourists. Observe the glutinous Americans marching toward the gift shop, also known as THE STORE.

A history of bottles:

When I say Disney attraction, I mean, I felt like I was in Orlando, if Orlando had a BeerLand. There were different stations where you could touch real barley, read about the brewing process, watch movies, etc.

Fun fact:

And here’s the waterfall with a wishing well:

David Morris, is this where you got your inspiration for the set of Machinal?

There was an exhibit on the history of Guinness advertising, which was fascinating. The political correctness of some of the adverts was, shall we say, questionable?

The brewing of Guinness is a whole elaborate process, which I won't go into now. However, I will say briefly that what's unique about Guinness is the way it comes out of the tap. When I had my first Guinness in Dublin, it took forever for the bartender to serve me the pint, and I thought it was because I was American and she was ignoring me. Turns out, pouring Guinness is a multi-step process. When it first comes out, it's actually beige-ish color, not black, and you have to fill it a little more than halfway, wait for what's called the "surge" to settle, and then fill it to the top. It has something to do with nitrogen... I don't know, the lady had a heavy accent and I couldn't understand what she was saying. But basically, it settles, and you get a thick foamy lip and the rick black stuff underneath- like magic!

There was a station along the way where you could pour your own "perfect pint." Mine was pretty good, I must say...

The Guinness logo, the Irish harp, was adopted by the company back in the 19th century. Guinness made the image of the harp so popular that it was adopted by the various nationalist movements in the 20th century as a symbol of Irish independence and pride.

Also, I never made the connection that it's from the Guinness company that we get the Guinness Book of World Records! Yeah, I know, it's crazy. Some guys were in a pub one day and were arguing over which bird was the fastest bird in the world (it's the spine-tailed swift, also known as the white-throated needletail), and the argument eventually resulted in them keeping a book of different facts. One thing led to another and the rest is history.

The seventh floor of the storehouse is called the "Gravity Bar." It's a circular bar with a clear 360 degree view of the Dublin skyline. Naturally, there are Joyce quotes written on the glass, and from certain angles, it almost looks like the words are written across the sky.

I found this juxtaposition particularly interesting: the opening lines of Finnegans Wake allude to the most influential story in Western literature-- the story of creation, of Adam and Eve. Joyce's words describe a river, and those words are overlooking a city that is bisected by a river-- a city that he immortalized.

The title of this post, again, comes from the Lestrygonians episode of Ulysses. Bloom's thoughts, I believe, are an appropriate summation of the spirit of the day:

"As he set foot on O’Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from the parapet. Brewery barge with export stout. England. Sea air sours it, I heard. Be interesting some day get a pass through Hancock to see the brewery. Regular world in itself. Vats of porter wonderful. Rats get in too. Drink themselves bloated as big as a collie floating. Dead drunk on the porter. Drink till they puke again like christians. Imagine drinking that! Rats: vats. Well, of course, if he knew all the things."

Clowns and Profound Stoppardian Witticisms

At noon, I met with Raymond Keane, Artistic Director of Barabbas Theatre Company, at his Dublin office. Raymond had been very gracious through email when he agreed to sit for an interview, so I knew we would have a nice conversation. He also gave some directorial advice to the performers of Songs of Joyce, and I therefore had no doubt there would be plenty to talk about.

We didn't even get to Songs of Joyce, because we spent over an hour talking about clown. Raymond specializes in clown and physical theatre, both of which I have become very interested in recently. A few months ago, I attended an amazing clown workshop at Williams with a man named Trey Lyford. Trey himself is a clown, and had a lot of wise things to say about his technique.

Okay, so first some background information on clown. This isn't just your stereotypical silly circus clown, with the big feet, crazy outfits (well, sometimes), etc. Yes, you wear a red nose-- referred to in clown as "the smallest mask in the world," but clown training is intense. It's all about developing an honest, authentic PRESENCE (the key to great acting!). You develop your own personal clown that stays with you, not so much as a character you play, but perhaps closer to your alter ego. But it's an authentic you--exaggerated, of course-- a you that is not afraid to embrace all your insecurities, your flaws, the human things about you that are just ridiculous. Your clown embraces all of your humanity in all its glory and wonder-- your "divine spark" if you will. The goal of the clown is to play, to risk, to fail, and to embrace and relish in that failure and divine play. I think it's pretty great!

So we talked a lot about all of that. Raymond trained in clown, mime, corporeal mime, tai chi, dance, etc, so he had a lot of interesting insights. He is also mostly self-taught, which is pretty inspiring. He would just go out into the street and do his thing, and learn that way. Raymond was also a hairdresser before he started doing theatre, and he talked for a while about hair as a mask. Think about it- how tied up our hair is to our identity, how we hide behind it, or change it to suit different purposes, and so on.

Although there is no separate performance tradition of Irish clown-- the predominant clown style is European clown, which is basically what Raymond teaches-- we had a very provocative discussion about the development of the Irish clown through works like Beckett's Waiting for Godot. Raymond suggested that perhaps Beckett was influenced by the American hobo clown, along with, of course, the Buster Keatons, Charlie Chaplins, and the rest. It's official- I can't escape from Beckett! I'll always be waiting...

In addition to being generally awesome, I think clown is particularly relevant to McDonagh, whose work is very influenced by Beckett. McDonagh's plays often tread the line between the silly and the serious, the mundane and profound, and many of his characters could be said to be clown-like. I'm hoping that further study of this art form will give me greater insight into his work.

In the evening, I attended a performance of Tom Stoppard's Arcadia at the Gate Theatre, which is located at the intersection between O'Connell and Parnell Street. I thought the first act was slow, but the second act was much better. I've been a little spoiled with Arcadia, having seen a recording of the Lincoln Center production, as well as a lovely production done in Agard living room at Williams. One of the major challenges in a play like Arcadia, I think, is having the actors present a strong, reserved British affect on the outside, while maintaining all the sexual energy and passion of the characters underneath. It's very easy to slip into a reserved manner that enjoys the dryness of Stoppard's wit, but loses that internal energy, and I think that's what was happening in the firs act. However, it was great to see Hugh O'Conor as Valentine (he also played Stephen Dedalus in the film Bloom), and there were certain moments where the language is just so beautiful you can't help but be moved. In one such moment, Septimus is assuaging Thomasina that she need not fear the loss of knowledge, because:

"We shed as we pick up, like travelers who must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will be picked up by those behind. The procession is very long and life is very short. We die on the march. But there is nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost to it. The missing plays of Sophocles will turn up piece by piece, or be written again in another language. Ancient cures for diseases will reveal themselves once more. Mathematical discoveries glimpsed and lost to view will have their time again. You don't suppose, my lady, that if all of Archimedes had been hiding in the great library of Alexandria, we would be at a loss for a corkscrew?"

Arcadia is a lot about the great pursuit of knowledge, and how that pursuit itself can be more powerful than the answers one hopes to find. As it is said at the play's end: "When we have found all the meanings and lost all the mysteries, we will be alone, on an empty shore."

A Darker Side of Dublin

This post is very long, but I felt it necessary to tell the full story.

There's only one picture for this post:

I came across this flyer on the street soon after I landed in Dublin, and I was simply dumbfounded. The event was sponsored by the Ireland Palestine Solidarity Campaign and the Irish Anti-War Movement, in response to the recent events surrounding the flotilla. It was going to be held in the evening at one of the hotels on O'Connell Street.

I didn't anticipate that this blog would be at all political, but for this post it will be. As soon as I saw this flyer, I knew I had to go and speak up on behalf of Israel. Whether or not one agrees with the way in which Israel carried out the operation, the fact remains that Israel was slammed in the media in an unfair way-- particularly in Ireland. I knew that were I to go to this debate, that I would be stepping into an utterly biased environment in which the complexities and nuances of the conflict would not be considered.

I contacted one of my Birthright group leaders to see if she could provide more information about what actually happened. She put me in touch with a gentleman who works at the David Project, a non-profit organization that educates students about how to be strong advocates for Israel. During my birthright trip, someone from the David Project gave a presentation on the biases against Israel in the media, and it was by far one of the best parts of the trip-- it was objective, presented the facts, and really explored the complexities of the conflict. The lecture stressed the ways in which Israel is often put in a lose-lose situation, and how easy it is for it to be portrayed poorly in the media when the news ignores the big picture. Example:

Does Israel stop Palestinian ambulances carrying sick and dying people to the hospital at checkpoints?

Answer: Yes

Given just this information, of course someone with Western democratic ideals and a strong belief in fundamental human rights would be horrified and disgusted by this information and condemn Israel.

The problem is that the larger context is often ignored. The reason why Israel stops ambulances at checkpoints is that in the past ambulances have been used to smuggle weapons, bombs, and suicide-bombers into Israel. In order to protect its civilian population, Israel has no choice but to stop ambulances carrying sick and dying people-- a horrible, unfortunate lose-lose situation that Israel has been forced into.

This is the context from which the flotilla should be considered, and were it considered as such, a boycott on Israel as a punishment for its actions would reveal itself as an unjustified and irrational measure. This is the context from which I approached the debate.

I spent the week reading about the situation and its larger context so that I would be as prepared as possible. By the time the debate rolled around, I felt prepared enough to at least propose the need to consider the situation more objectively, instead of just throwing all the blame on Israel.

I walked in and found myself in a very hostile environment. There was anywhere from 50-100 people in the room, and everyone of them seemed fervently against Israel. Since the premise of the meeting was a discussion of whether or not Ireland should boycott Israel, there was no question as to whether Israel was utterly at fault.

One of the panelists called Israel a "racist, dysfunctional, apartheid state." Everyone clapped and cheered.

After all the panelists spoke, it was time for Q and A. I raised my hand for a very long time, and I was consistently ignored- the moderator seemed to be only calling on people he knew. Finally, I was given a chance to speak. As soon as I started speaking, I could hear booing from the crowd. One guy even cursed me out. Needless to say, I felt very uncomfortable.

In my speech, I tried to emphasize three major points:

1. There has been a lot of discussion in the debate about Israel's actions, but no one has mentioned anything about why Israel went into Gaza (the answer being that Hamas, a terrorist organization whose charter calls for the destruction of the Jewish State, was smuggling weapons into Gaza and then used those weapons against Israel). No one has mentioned the thousands upon thousands of qassam rockets that were fired onto Israeli cities--onto innocent Isareli civilians-- during the years leading up to the invasion of Gaza. No one has mentioned anything about the suicide bombs set-off in Israeli cafes and on buses.

2. Israel built a barrier- it's not a wall because 97% of it is actually a fence (everyone there called it an "apartheid wall"). A part of the barrier is a wall, and yes, that section of the wall makes the Berlin Wall look like a joke (it's much taller and longer than the Berlin Wall). The only reason why Israel built the barrier was to prevent suicide-bombers from getting into Israel, and so far, it has worked. It is an extremely unfortunate solution, but at the moment, an effective one.

3. Israel is the only liberal democracy in the Middle East. It is the only state in the Middle East where people of all religions, races, genders, ethnicities, etc. are granted equal rights. If you treasure your democratic ideals and belief in human rights, you should be debating how to support Israel, not how to boycott it.

After I finished, everyone was pretty riled up. There was a part of me that was worried someone might get physically violent-- I even passed a note to Leila, who was there to support me, saying "pretend like you don't know me, just in case." I wasn't being dramatic-- the room was that tense.

After the debate ended, a ton of people swarmed around me to talk to me. This is when I realized that no one was going to hurt me- they were just really passionate about their views, just as I am passionate about sharing views that are vastly different. Of course, they wanted to argue some more. In reality, they had no interest in what I was saying, in having a meaningful dialogue, they just wanted to "convert" me to think exactly what they think, and I received a couple of sympathetic, pitying glances, as if to say "you poor lost lamb." One woman even said straight to my face "I think you're brainwashed." I said to her "that's okay, I think the same thing about you," with a chuckle. Looking back, it was actually all very cordial.

In fact, putting aside the need to continue arguing, many, many people also came up to me to congratulate me on speaking. They said I was very brave to do what I did, that it must have taken a lot of courage to speak up in that kind of environment. I really appreciated them saying that, and felt good about it. Several people also apologized on behalf of the man who cursed at me, although an apology from him would have been better.

We continued talking for the next two hours or so. People just could not fathom that I was rational, could speak intelligently, seemed like a nice person, and that I could be defending Israel. They must have been under the impression that people who support Israel are fanatical, unthinking brutes.

I don't think I changed anyone's mind. Often times when I spoke, eyes would glaze over, and my words would go in one ear and out the other. But if all I accomplished was to make it known that there are young people who are passionate about defending Israel, then that alone was worth the experience.

Some of the people were very well intentioned, coming from a purely human rights perspective. Others, I'm afraid, were just blatantly anti-Semitic: when one man started hinting at Holocaust denial, I decided there was no point in me continuing to argue, and that it was time to go.

So what did I learn? Well, for one I learned that there's an intense bias against Israel in Ireland. I have some theories as to why this might be so, but I won't go into them now.

Prior to the debate, I was interested in this idea of theatre as a means of conflict resolution. Now I'm even more interested in the possibility of using theatre as a tool to better understand different cultures and people and thereby help diffuse cultural conflicts. Ireland is a good model for how a difficult, violent conflict can be resolved, and I'm hoping there are more answers to be found here along those lines. Also, the way in which a culture collectively perceives events and constructs narratives based on cultural memory I find particularly fascinating, and I would like to pursue this inquiry further.

Please, if you disagree with something I have said in this post, or if there's something you would like to add or qualify, please don't hesitate to comment. It's important we keep the conversation going, even if it is difficult to do so. As a wise man once said, "an imperfect voice is better than perfect silence."

Musical Joyce, Lots of History, and Plexiglass Cubes?

I went to a lunch time performance of "Songs of Joyce" at Bewley's Cafe Theatre on Grafton Street. Bewley's holds a regular lunch time performance series where your ticket includes a bowl of soup and bread (both of which were very good).

The show featured two women who performed a cycle of songs featured in Joyce's work. They would take turns playing piano and something that sounded like an accordion (but I don't know what is was exactly) while singing as well. My personal favorite was the classic "I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls" (check out the rendition by Celtic Woman on youtube).

The show had a nice physical shape, as the women donned different hats and utilized a few props to create each scene. I was also impressed by how many looks they were able to get out of a pretty bare-bones light plot (I counted 9 lights in the air plus a few birdies that were placed as footlights on the stage). Overall, it was refreshing to see two actors not taking themselves too seriously, having fun as they created each vignette-- a great way to spend lunch.

Afterwards, I went on the Historical Walking Tour of Dublin. The tour guide was a History graduate of Trinity, and he gave a disclaimer at the beginning that he was going to try and cover all of Irish history in 2 hours, which is a pretty bold undertaking to say the least. As a result, the tour was kind of all over the place, jumping from century to century, forwards and backwards in time, but it was incredibly informative and invaluable to helping fill in the gaps of my Irish history education.

One of the stops was Dublin Castle. A lot of the original castle was teared down and replaced with this courtyard.

The dome inside Dublin City Hall.

Christ Church Cathedral.

The Four Courts.

In the evening, I went to a show called "The Early Bird" at Project Arts Centre. It was really weird. The play consisted of two people, a husband and wife, inside a plexiglass cube. They had headsets so we could hear them, and they basically just acted out and recalled the events surrounding their daughter being taken from them / running away. The author dropped subtle hints as to whether or not the girl was kidnapped, whether the parents had been abusive, etc. The cube was actually effective in this regard, for during several key moments you could see the actors' reflections in different parts of the glass as they reflected on the situation.

If Michael Frayn's Copenhagen and Sarah Kane's 4.48 Psychosis had a bastard love child play, they would have named it The Early Bird. Although the actors were clearly giving very emotionally rich performances, I thought the text's lack of a cohesive narrative was off-putting. Part of the problem, I think, was that the playwright tried to replicate the frenetic chaos of the moment of losing a child through the structure of the play, but did so in a way that was uninteresting to me as an audience member. By contrast, in a play like Copenhagen you may have a narrative that is difficult to follow in which many questions remain unanswered, but the search for the answers is fascinating, as you watch the problem being worked out moment to moment. I think that's what this play was missing, but nevertheless, I was happy to see that artists in Ireland are making bold choices, like putting people in a cube.

The Gift

In the early part of the afternoon I went to the International Street Performers Competition, which was located in and around Merrion Square. It was great to see people so enthusiastic about many different kinds of performers- some of whom were pretty out there. There was one guy from New Zealand who could dislocate his shoulder and put his whole body through a tennis racket. He ended his performance balancing on a giant chest of drawers that was on a roller while juggling two fiery batons and a machete- the crowd went wild!

After that, I stopped by the National Gallery of Ireland. They had a small but very nice collection of Irish art as well as art from around the world. I was a little disappointed that Caravaggio's The Taking of Christ had been borrowed for an exhibition in Rome- I was looking forward to seeing it. One great thing that I did discover was that I really like the work of Jack B. Yeats, an Irish painter who was the brother of William Butler Yeats. I had never seen his work in person before and seeing it gave me a much better sense of this style.

The lawn of the National Gallery.

A statue of George Bernard Shaw- one of the few works I was allowed to photograph.

In the evening, Leila and I went on the Dublin Literary Pub Crawl. Our tour guides were two actors who gave us a history of the pubs and pub culture in Dublin, acted out scenes from Irish plays, recited Irish poetry, and asked us trivia questions along the way. Their excerpt from Beckett's Waiting for Godot (they pronounce it GAH-doe, with the emphasis on the first syllable, as opposed to guh-DOE) was excellent-very physically comedic. They talked about "the pub, the poet, and the pint," the way in which the three are intertwined. Despite the stereotype of the Irish being drunk all the time, the pub is actually integrated into the culture in a beautiful way, I think. The pub isn't just about getting drunk- it's about conversing with your neighbors about what's happening in the city and the rest of the world. It's about community. During the Irish War for Independence, the Irish leader Michael Collins used to go to the pub to get all his information about the British- that's how tight-knit the social network was.

Needless to say, the life of the pub has been and continues to be an important influence on the Irish writer, the place where many writers such as Joyce and Wilde fine-tuned their wit. The impact of the pub and the city on the writer is eloquently articulated in a poem called "The Gift," written by Brendan Kennelly:

It came slowly

Afraid of insufficient self-content,

Or some inherent weakness in itself,

small and hesitant,

Like children at the top of the stairs,

It came through shops, rooms, temples,

Streets; places that were badly-lit,

It was a gift that took me unawares,

And I accepted it.

This poem was beautifully recited to us by Colm, one of our tour guides. He also gave a beautiful reading of Seamus Heaney's "Mid-Term Break" (check it out if you haven't read it, it's pretty intense).

We stopped at several historic pubs along the way.

I just really like taking pictures of Guinness...

One of our stops was Davy Byrnes! Here's the inscription on the window of the passage from Ulysses.

At the end of the tour, they had a final trivia quiz. One of the questions was-surprise, surprise-"name the three Nobel Prize winners in literature other than Heaney,"and because of that, I won the grand prize- a Dublin Literary Pub Crawl T-Shirt!

Leila and I posed with Colm in front of Davy Byrnes- notice my t-shirt in-hand. I also couldn't resist picking up a copy of the Dublin Literary Pub Crawl book, a comprehensive "guide to the pubs of Dublin and the writers they served."

As the sun was setting, I grabbed this shot of the Liffey.

Abbey Abbey Abbey!

Today I spent a lovely day at the Abbey Theatre, the National Theatre of Ireland. There is so much history surrounding the Abbey-- I won't go into it now--but check out the Wikipedia article!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abbey_Theatre

I did an all-day voice workshop with Andrea Ainsworth, the Abbey's voice director. We spent a lot of time working on vocal production, and also did some work with voice and text, mostly with Shakespeare. It was a lot of fun! There was a decent amount of overlap between Andrea's technique and my vocal lessons, which was very comforting and helpful. During lunch, I talked to Andrea more about voice training and Irish theatre in general. She agreed to meet for an interview later in the week so I could ask her even more questions. Additionally, she was helpful in pointing me towards the resources available at the Abbey Archives, which I will visit later in the week. I also spoke with a friendly older gentleman and a woman who was his daughter- they were doing the workshop together (how nice is that?). The two are very involved with amateur drama in Kerry where they live, and I spoke to them about that for a while. The woman's brother runs a pub in Cork- she gave me his name and assured me that if I go to his pub, "he'll give you a pint and take care of ya."

In addition to lunch, the workshop fee included a ticket to that evening's performance of "Bookworms" by Bernard Farrell. The play was a comedy of manners surrounding the antics of people in a suburban book club during the recession. It was very funny, although the beginning had some clunky exposition, the bits about the recession were heavy-handed, it probably could have been 45 minutes shorter, and the ending was too let's-just-tie-everything-up-in-a-nice-pretty-pink-bow-thanks.

I thought the set was interesting, with its tacky furniture, a flatscreen t.v. from which the couple's daughter phoned in on Skype from Australia, and of course, a fully-stacked bar. The acting was generally strong and energetic, although the characters at times were a little one-dimensional.

Despite its flaws, I'm grateful I saw this play. The dramatic trope of the "story," the unreliability of the story and storyteller, the capacity for the story (the lie?) to redeem and heal more powerfully than the "truth," which figures so prominently in Martin McDonagh's work, was crucial to Farrell's vision in this play. I'm beginning to wonder if this is a trope that's particularly important to Irish playwrights in general (or maybe just playwrights in general). I look forward to investigating this further over the next couple of weeks!

British bullets, cucumber sandwiches, and everything in between

Yesterday, I had lunch with Leila Crawford, a fellow Eph and Hibernophile. Leila is interning at the James Joyce Centre this summer, and is single-handedly responsible for making me infamous at the JJC: when I called last week to book my tickets for the Bloomsday festivities, I spoke to another American intern and asked her "Do you know Leila?" and she said said she didn't know how that was. Turns out, Leila was sitting right next to her at the time, and the girl was pretty embarrassed about that. The story spread around throughout the centre to the extent when I arrived on Tuesday and asked at the front desk, "is Leila here?" the gentleman responded "Oh, you must be the friend." After that, everyone knew who I was... it was pretty weird but funny.

Anyway, we had lunch at a nice cafe called "The Queen of Tarts" on Dame Street, which is in the Temple Bar District next to Trinity College. Leila has traveled to Ireland twice before, and had lots of good advice about who I could contact in Ireland to help me with my research.

After lunch, we walked down O'Connell street and stopped by the historic General Post Office. During the Easter Rising of 1916 (if you're not familiar with the Easter Rising, check out the Wikipedia article on it- it's really interesting, and an critical turning point in modern Irish history), the GPO became the headquarters of the Irish forces. The British forces heavily attacked the headquarters, and you can still see the bullet holes in the columns (see below).

At first, I hated the buses in front of the GPO in this picture, but then I realized that it's a good example of the juxtaposition between old and new that you constantly see in Dublin. There are beautiful examples of Medieval and Georgian architecture throughout the city that are alongside more modern structures. The city experienced a tremendous amount of growth, prosperity and modernization in the Celtic Tiger era.

We also passed Davy Byrnes, the place where Bloom has lunch- a gorgonzola sandwich and a glass of Burgundy. Before I leave Dublin, I solemnly swear to do the same.

Leila and I decided to stop by the Dublin Writers Museum. The museum is a small, two room exhibit, but it is a loving and thoroughly informative tribute to the many great Irish writers over the centuries.

Ok, here's where I have to give my passionate spiel about Irish literature. For a country so small, Ireland has an overwhelmingly impressive line-up of distinguished writers, a literary tradition that is unmatched by most countries twice its size. Ireland has four Nobel Prize Laureates in Literature: William Butler Yeats, George Bernard Shaw, Samuel Beckett, and Seamus Heaney. That excludes Joyce, who literally revolutionized the novel with Ulysses, but whose achievement wouldn't even be considered by the Nobel Committee because the book was too dirty.

I learned about Maria Edgeworth, who wrote one of the first realist novels and was the first author (male or female) to write an Irish novel about common people in Ireland.

I didn't realize that Bram Stoker, author of Dracula was Irish. The Irish may or may not be responsible for Twilight (shudder).

Don't forget Jonathan Swfit, author of Gulliver's Travels, Oscar Wilde and many others.

There were also some beautiful stories, like the story of Joyce and Beckett. Joyce was in exile in Paris, working on Finnegans Wake when he befriended a young Samuel Beckett. Joyce's eyesight was failing-he always had poor eyesight, which is why the language in Ulysses is so attentive to the sounds of words- he responded to language very much in an auditory way. Now nearly blind, Joyce dictated to Beckett who tirelessly helped him finish his last great work. Finnegans Wake is basically incomprehensible, and for those of you who are familiar with Beckett's work, Joyce's influence is definitely there.

I wasn't allowed to take pictures in the exhibit, but on the way out I saw this painting of Joyce, which I thought was pretty cool:

In the evening, I went to see a production of Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest at Gaiety Theatre, which is off of Grafton Street. All the advertisements promoted Stockard Channing as Lady Bracknell. Turns out that Dublin suffers from the same syndrome as New York: Hiring-actors-just-because-they-have-a-name-and-they-want-to-sell-tickets-itis. Sorry Rizzo, but you totally sucked the energy out of every scene.

In all seriousness, the rest of the cast was strong. Channing's Bracknell was perhaps misdirected, or she just needed a little more help acclimating to the script and her Irish castmates.

The set consisted of several tacky painted rotating panels on metal scaffolding. During the big setting change, the butler (who was somewhat dressed like a clown) came out on rollar skates to move the panels and drop a swing set. As eloquently stated in the Irish Times review, this was an interesting moment but nothing was really done with it after that. Initially, I had mixed feelings about this set-- the strong, contemporary geometry of the panels seemed to clash with the vibrant period dress, and their tackiness was perplexing. Once the set changed it made more sense-- perhaps they were using the panels to suggest that in the world of the play society is a kind of tacky artifice, a dynamic construct in which identities are ever-changing and fluid. But I'm not sure this worked as it might have been intended.

Still, Wilde's wit is as biting at ever. What he suggests about the differences between men and women, how so much of what we do is a shallow act just to keep up appearances, about the uncertainty of our identities in this world, etc. is a kind of satire that is just as relevant today as when it was first written.

In the lobby of the theatre, they sell popcorn and soda like in a movie theatre. They also have vendors who walk down the aisles during intermission selling ice cream. The same is true of most theatres in London- weird!

The interior of the Gaiety is quite intimate and beautiful.

This afternoon, I went on a tour of Trinity College. The tour guide spoke a lot about the history of the college and stories behind the different buildings. I am definitely biased toward Williams tours, which are much more personal and far more about the student experience. Nevertheless, it was a fun and informative tour.

The front gate from inside Trinity.

Some of the residential halls.

The tour ended at the Trinity College Library, which houses the Book of Kells, Ireland's great national treasure. The Book of Kells is an illuminated manuscript-one of the finest in the world-- written by Celtic monks around 800 AD. I had heard that seeing it in person was a little anti-climatic, but I found it interesting to be able to see it up so close. I also went to the library's Long Room, which houses their rarest books, and saw an original copy of the 1916 Proclamation of the Irish Republic. Naturally, they wouldn't let me take pictures...

Outside the Trinity College Library.

Walking back, I saw these guys playing cricket. Is it cricket? I don't even understand American sports, so there's no hope that I'll understand Irish cricket. However, I did stay and watch for a brief while- hurray for expanding one's cultural horizons!