Recap

Yesterday our group took a trip to Connemara. The weather was perfect. Today I went to the farmer's market, where I met several friendly people, and bought cabbage...a weekly essential. I then spent the rest of the afternoon in the studio, where I had another small artistic epiphany. I'm hoping I can just muster up the talent to pull all of these epiphanies off. Haha. I came home at 5 and met everyone at Green's to watch the Clare vs. Cork hurling rematch. It was a fantastic game, packed with so much action there was barely time to breathe between screams of elation and disgust. When Clare won, I thought the town would erupt. There was so much energy and emotion attached to this victory, I felt honored to be present. Not a bad Saturday at all. Now I'm sitting at home with a mug of tea, trying to soothe a newly scratchy throat and reading up on Ulster politics.

an excerpt

           Then it happened. A sudden eruption of noise, shouts, yells and venom-filled screams. The bucket clamored on to the ground and a barrage of dull thuds carried along the wing. What sounded like someone’s head colliding with the steel pipes came ringing through the cells. I dropped my po and put my eye to the peep-hole, hearing a voice scream, “Give them more!” The ruckus continued until I heard ‘A---‘ shout, “That’s enough!” Several screws came tearing down the wing from the opposite direction, their heavy boots squelching and splashing in the pools of reeking urine that lay on the corridor floor.

            “Get a van for the punishment cells,” screamed “D---“ in his hateful, ignorant voice. There were more thuds and banging, then footsteps and evil laughter, followed by the gradual build-up of running feet, bumping and what sounded like the swish of water. Four black uniforms darted past my area of vision dragging a naked body by the feet, his back scraping and scratching the ground and his head bumping off the concrete. It passed so quickly that I was unable to recognize who it was. But there had been blood on his face and body whoever he was.

            For several seconds nothing stirred. A sinister, expectant silence resumed. The pools of urine rippled and waved, then settled into a calm pool just as the same noises built up again; the speedy build-up of feet gaining speed, the thuds, bangs and swish, as another mass of black figures soared past my line of vision dragging another blood-stained body by the feet. The swish died away and the squeaks of the naked body burning as it reached and contacted the dry, shiny surface at the end of the wing, faded. The sinister silence resumed its ugly role. Tension hung like a guillotine. No one dared to breathe aloud, fearing it would fall upon them. It was soul-destroying and seemingly endless. A scream came shrieking and hurtling down the wing.

            “Tiocfaidh ár lá” bounced and rebounded in frightening echoes off the walls, shattering the silence like the impact of a brick crashing through a window, raising hearts, bitterness and hate riveted to every single syllable. 

            “Our day will come!”

--excerpt from the book, "One Day in My Life", by Bobby Sands. This book gives insight into the life and thoughts of an Irish political prisoner in the H-blocks during the late 70's and early 80's, in addition to exposing the sadistic, torturous and inhuman treatment of the IRA prisoners at the hands of the British prison guards. Sands eventually led a hunger strike after Thatcher's continuous refusal to grant IRA prisoners political prisoner status. He was elected to Parliament while on hunger strike, but Thatcher continued to refuse negotiations with him, despite global pressure to do so. Instead, Sands' call for basic human rights was ignored. Bobby Sands (followed by nine other young men) died at age 27 after 66 days on hunger strike. 

a cozy evening O'Loclainn's

A few of us decided that Thursday nights should involve a little more whiskey and socializing, so we began the tradition this Thursday at O'Loclainn's pub, which is known for its excellent whiskey selection. We found out soon after arriving that it was Arthur Guinness day, so a few Guinnesses (Guinni?) also had to be ordered. The pub was entirely empty when we arrived, but within half an hour it was stuffed with Ballyvaughan residents that I'm just beginning to know and recognize (and vice versa), all of us cozily waiting for the traditional music to begin. 

The music kicked off around 10. One of the singers commented in between songs that I knew all the words to the songs. I was too embarrassed to admit to the entire crowd of people that I listen to the Dubliners the way most people my age listen to...whatever it is people my age listen to. But needless to say, I very much enjoyed hearing all of my favorite songs sung so beautifully across the tiny room. Last night was definitely the place to be in Ballyvaughan. I have no doubt whiskey Thrusdays are here to stay.

into the Burren

Today for class my professor took us to this ancient hazel wood to explore. Our assignment was to totally immerse ourselves in the lush, overwhelming environment and think about our response to it. It was an incredible exercise to be still in nature, listening to every rustle of leaves, or a bee buzzing in and out of a moss-coated tree trunk in the distance. I documented the time through sketching, meditation, and photography.

Afterwards, we drove to the Burren Perfumery, where we explored their tantalizing selection of perfume and lotion, their herb garden, and their coffee shop featuring some of the best carrot cake I've ever tasted. What a lovely way to spend an afternoon. I feel very lucky to be here at this school.

Shopping in D'lin

I went a little book-crazy at the Sinn Fein bookshop and Books Upstairs, but I'm positive each of these books will be put to good use. (In unrelated news, if anyone has any questions in the next 2 years about anything to do with the war in Ulster, I will probably have the answer somewhere in the recesses of my mind just begging for an excuse to be verbalized.) The comfy shoes are a lifesaver after walking 8 miles in Doc Martens (never again), and those John Lennon-esque vintage sunglasses were a little splurge that I have zeros regrets about.

Also, here is my address:

Amanda Patten

Burren College of Art,

Newtown Castle, 

Ballyvaughan, Co. Clare, Ireland.

And I'm a big fan of Trader Joe's salted caramel chocolate bars...just, in case anyone was wondering.

Back From Dublin

I just got back from a 3 day trip to Dublin. It was such a great three days. Absolutely packed with gorgeous art, splendid food, laughter and Murphy's Ice Cream. The weather was beautiful, and I really enjoyed exploring Culture Night on Friday. I didn't take many photos, but I'll upload the few I have.

Today was another great studio day. After working aimlessly for hours and staying late, I had an artistic epiphany. Finally! I hope this epiphany leads to something good. Because I didn't take any photos, I'm uploading some from days before that never made it onto the blog.

This is the hill we hiked up on Saturday. It's much, much, much taller than it looks. Never-ending limestone.

Studio Day

I think today was the first day since being here that I finally felt everything begin to click. My painting process flowed naturally, I was inspired by the books I read and information I researched, and ideas started to form in my mind. Hoping this flow doesn't stop.

Elizabeth, if you read this, that painting on the bottom left IS the result of one of those Skype screen-shots. There may be more to come. Haha.