The Cunard ocean liner RMS Lusitania sinking after having been torpedoed near Old Head of Kinsale (An Seancheann), Friday the 7th of May, 1915.
Norman Wilkinson, To Ireland via Holyhead Ferry - L. & N. W. R (London and North Western Railway), England, c. 1907.
Among School Children William Butler Yeats (from The Tower, 1928)
I I walk through the long schoolroom questioning; A kind old nun in a white hood replies; The children learn to cipher and to sing, To study reading-books and histories, To cut and sew, be neat in everything In the best modern way — the children’s eyes In momentary wonder stare upon A sixty-year-old smiling public man. II I dream of a Ledaean body, bent Above a sinking fire, a tale that she Told of a harsh reproof, or trivial event That changed some childish day to tragedy — Told, and it seemed that our two natures blent Into a sphere from youthful sympathy, Or else, to alter Plato’s parable, Into the yolk and white of the one shell. III And thinking of that fit of grief or rage I look upon one child or t’other there And wonder if she stood so at that age — For even daughters of the swan can share Something of every paddler’s heritage — And had that colour upon cheek or hair, And thereupon my heart is driven wild: She stands before me as a living child. IV Her present image floats into the mind — Did Quattrocento finger fashion it Hollow of cheek as though it drank the wind And took a mess of shadows for its meat? And I though never of Ledaean kind Had pretty plumage once — enough of that, Better to smile on all that smile, and show There is a comfortable kind of old scarecrow. V What youthful mother, a shape upon her lap Honey of generation had betrayed, And that must sleep, shriek, struggle to escape As recollection or the drug decide, Would think her Son, did she but see that shape With sixty or more winters on its head, A compensation for the pang of his birth, Or the uncertainty of his setting forth? VI Plato thought nature but a spume that plays Upon a ghostly paradigm of things; Solider Aristotle played the taws Upon the bottom of a king of kings; World-famous golden-thighed Pythagoras Fingered upon a fiddle-stick or strings What a star sang and careless Muses heard: Old clothes upon old sticks to scare a bird. VII Both nuns and mothers worship images, But those the candles light are not as those That animate a mother’s reveries, But keep a marble or a bronze repose. And yet they too break hearts — O presences That passion, piety or affection knows, And that all heavenly glory symbolise — O self-born mockers of man’s enterprise; VIII Labour is blossoming or dancing where The body is not bruised to pleasure soul. Nor beauty born out of its own despair, Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil. O chestnut-tree, great-rooted blossomer, Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole? O body swayed to music, O brightening glance, How can we know the dancer from the dance?
C. H. Graves, McGinty’s Wake (Undated stereoview).
Source: screeningthepast.com
Harry Clarke, Tales of Mystery and Imagination (Edgar Allan Poe), 1919.
Source: tcd.ie
John Derricke, Bard & Harper (Woodcut), Ireland, c. 1581.
Female IRA Fighter. County Armin, Northern Ireland. 1972.
Francis Bacon. Study of Chimpanzee, After the Life Mask of William Blake III, August Triptych, Study for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion 3, Dog, Crucifixion, Chimpanzee (top to bottom). 1945-1973.
James Joyce. Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Special Edition. 1964.
G.R. Morris. Illustrations for Herbert Sherman Gorman's James Joyce: A Definitive Biography. Paris Circle, Family Album, Paris Portrait, Corridor of Classics, Trieste, Ulysses is Published, Folkstone, American Reception, Yes (top to bottom). 1941.
J.F. Jarvis. The Wishing Chair. Giant's Causway, Ireland. 1887.
The Undertones. Teenage Kicks, True Confessions. Good Vibrations Music. 1978.
The Undertones. True Confessions. 45rpm. Good Vibrations Records. 1978.
I have always considered myself a voice of what I believe to be a greater renaissance—the revolt of the soul against the intellect—now beginning in the world.
William Butler Yeats to his mentor, the Irish nationalist John O’Leary, in 1892. Yeats believed that magic was central not only to his art, but to a dawning epoch when spirituality and technology would march together toward an uncertain future.
As I thought of these things, I drew aside the curtains and looked out into the darkness, and it seemed to my troubled fancy that all those little points of light filling the sky were the furnaces of innumerable divine alchemists, who labour continually, turning lead into gold, weariness into ecstasy, bodies into souls, the darkness into God; and at their perfect labour my mortality grew heavy, and I cried out, as so many dreamers and men of letters in our age have cried, for the birth of that elaborate spiritual beauty which could alone uplift souls weighted with so many dreams.
W.B. Yeats, Rosa Alchemica
Bob Carlos Clarke. The Illustrated Delta of Venus (by Anaïs Nin). Photomontage. Virgin Books. UK. 1979.
Bob Carlos Clarke. The Illustrated Delta of Venus (by Anaïs Nin). Photomontage. Virgin Books. UK. 1979.