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Comments (14 of 14)
Jump To Comment: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14I loved this mural - OK so it wasn't Guernica - but I had spent many a time visually browsing the details and the stories contained within it. Even had a bit of the vicious Dublin wit at the top with a suicide plane striking Dublin's 'Twin Towers' - the Ringsend Smokestacks.
Now its being sand blasted away to go with the building's refurbishment, Oh well.
I'm not making an argument that it needed to be 'saved' - like the Tara Skryne Valley, 16 Moore Street, Viking Woodstown or Carrickmines Castle.
But what is it about Ireland's idea of 'commerce' (or whatever) sees no value in something beautiful or at least interesting. Obviously, whoever owns the building can probably do whatever they wish to it - I suppose that's their right.
I doubt that whatever pseudo 'Old Dublin' styled bricks that are revealed underneath will not be nearly as interesting.
Oh well.
-- -- --
Photos from
Comic Book Store mural off Crow Street...
http://www.softguides.com/dublin/maps/l49o51.html
About Temple Bar
http://www.temple-bar.ie
Temple Bar is not only Dublin's Cultural Quarter,
but a lively, bustling and cosmopolitan area in the heart of Dublin City.
TASCQ, Traders in the Area Supporting the Cultural Quarter
http://www.visit-templebar.com/
Temple Bar is a vibrant cosmopolitan cultural quarter
with a lively entertainment scene. The area is recognised
as Ireland's arts and cultural hotspot....
Don't worry, in 30 years time from now when murals like this are reminisced over by oul fellas there'll be some eejit with a restaurant or shop commissioning an ersatz version to evoke the nostalgia of the past. Just like what's happened with pubs over the past 20 years.
I remember walking past the 4 courts years back and they were sanblasting away the old bullet holes etc, in order to sterilise Dublin history.
History and culture arent always neat and tidy.
Those murals were imaginative, thought provoking and an insight of how people view the world around them. A lot better than that fuckin Bloomsday shite. Every time I see that nonsense I pray the walls of Dublin could be sprayed with bullets again. Them and their boaters, blazers and stupid affected accents. And that David bloody Norris.
"A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots"
Marcus Garvey (1887-1940)
-- Persecution, says he, all the history of the world is full of it. Perpetuating national hatred among nations.
-- But do you know what a nation means? says John Wyse.
-- Yes, says Bloom.
-- What is it? says John Wyse.
-- A nation? says Bloom. A nation is the same people living in the same place.
-- By God, then, says Ned, laughing, if that's so I'm a nation for I'm living in the same place for the past five years.
So of course everyone had a laugh at Bloom and says he, trying to muck out of it:
-- Or also living in different places.
-- That covers my case, says Joe.
-- What is your nation if I may ask, says the citizen.
-- Ireland, says Bloom. I was born here. Ireland.
The citizen said nothing only cleared the spit out of his gullet and, gob, he spat a Red bank oyster out of him right in the corner.
-- After you with the push, Joe, says he, taking out his handkerchief to swab himself dry.
-- Here you are, citizen, says Joe. Take that in your right hand and repeat after me the following words.
The muchtreasured and intricately embroidered ancient Irish facecloth attributed to Solomon of Droma and Manus Tomaltach og MacDonogh, authors of the Book of Ballymote, was then carefully produced and called forth prolonged admiration. No need to dwell on the legendary beauty of the cornerpieces, the acme of art, wherein one can distinctly discern each of the four evangelists in turn presenting to each of the four masters his evangelical symbol a bogoak sceptre, 8 North American puma (a far nobler king of beasts than the British article, be it said in passing), a Kerry calf and a golden eagle from Carrantuohill. The scenes depicted on the emunctory field, showing our ancient duns and raths and cromlechs and grianauns and seats of learning and maledictive stones, are as wonderfully beautiful and the pigments as delicate as when the Sligo illuminators gave free rein to their artistic fantasy long long ago in the time of the Barmecides. Glendalough, the lovely lakes of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland's Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company (Limited), Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three birthplaces of the first duke of Wellington, the rock of Cashel, the bog of Allen, the Henry Street Warehouse, Fingal's Cave - all these moving scenes are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of sorrow which have passed over them and by the rich incrustations of time. -- Shove us over the drink, says I. Which is which?
-- That's mine, says Joe, as the devil laid to the dead policeman.
-- And I belong to a race too, says Bloom, that is hated and persecuted. Also now. This very moment. This very instant.
Gob, he near burnt his fingers with the butt of his old cigar.
-- Robbed, says he. Plundered. Insulted. Persecuted. Taking what belongs to us by right. At this very moment, says he, putting up his fist, sold by auction off in Morocco like slaves or cattles.
-- Are you talking about the new Jerusalem? says the citizen.
-- I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom.
-- Right, says John Wyse. Stand up to it then with force like men.
That's an almanac picture for you. Mark for a softnosed bullet. Old lardyface standing up to the business end of a gun. Gob, he'd adorn a sweepingbrush, so he would, if he only had a nurse's apron on him. And then he collapses all of a sudden, twisting around all the opposite, as limp as a wet rag.
-- But it's no use, says he. Force, hatred, history, all that. That's not life for men and women, insult and hatred. And everybody knows that it's the very opposite of that that is really life.
-- What? says Alf.
-- Love, says Bloom. I mean the opposite of hatred. I must go now, says he to John Wyse. Just round to the court a moment to see if Martin is there. If he comes just say I'll be back in a second. Just a moment.
Who's hindering you? And off he pops like greased lightning.
-- A new apostle to the gentiles, says the citizen. Universal love.
-- Well, says John Wyse, isn't that what we're told? Love your neighbours.
-- That chap? says the citizen. Beggar my neighbour is his motto. Love, Moya! He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet. Love loves to love love. Nurse loves the new chemist. Constable 14A loves Mary Kelly. Gerty MacDowell loves the boy that has the bicycle. M. B. loves a fair genteman. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow. Jumbo, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant. Old Mr Verschoyle with the ear trumpet loves old Mrs Verschoyle with the turnedin eye. The man in the brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. His Majesty the King loves Her Majesty the Queen. Mrs Norman W. Tupper loves officer Taylor. You love a certain person. And this person loves that other person because everybody loves somebody but
God loves everybody.
-- Well, Joe, says I, your very good health and song. More power, citizen.
-- Hurrah, there, says Joe.
-- The blessing of God and Mary and Patrick on you, says the citizen.
And he ups with his pint to wet his whistle.
Wha ???
Sorry, always thought jj was a bit shite. Dont see why people are enthralled.
And the dressing up lark just annoys me. It aint my bag at all.
The bullet scarred walls of the 4 courts and the murals in the cultural quarter are just as valid an expression of Dublin life and experience as the literary luvvies in their boaters and bow ties.
Give me Damien Dempsey over David Norris any day
Trust me - read the chapter at the link - just the dialogue bits - all the way through -
wow that sandblasting works well, where can i hare them to clean up the visual sores all over the city that are run by some cultural vandals called adshel and others, just because there isnt a profit to be made from it public art like this gets short shrift while advertising messages blight my vision everyday. Its a shame that this is happening, hopefully new sites for such art will appear as time goes by.
.
that really is bad news
a fine example of proper grafitti/ muralismo
does that mean all buildings @ temple bar with painted walls will recieve same treatment to make "old looking"
also in that case will new and successfull modern buildings be pulled down and fake "old" ones be put up,
as in case of quays bar, "youd think it was there for hundreds of years"
maybe a new mural might go up?
http://www.indymedia.ie/newswire.php?story_id=66365&search_text=muralismo
by the way, is it still going to be the comic book shop which had much quality asterix material
I dunno exactly, but they done it. Check out the walls and pillars of the 4 courts. Theyre as smooth as a babys bum now. They did heavy duty clean up operation in 1994.
mr youse needent be so spry
concernin questions arty
each has his tastes but as for i
i likes a certain party
gimmie the he man's solid bliss
for youse ideas i'll match youse
a pretty girl who naked is
is worth a million statues
i don’t get it the “art work” looked as if a 10 year old was let lose with a crayon
If you want graffiti (or urban culture/"muralismo" or whatever you prefer) to be preserved then dont scrawl all over someone elses wall,
paint your own house - then you own it and get to save it for posterity.
Theres loads of bullett holes clearly visible on the GPO and on the O'connell statue (one right through the nipple of one of the angels at its base).