THE YELLOW RIVER - Seán McSweeney & Gerard Smyth
The Yellow River is a tributary of the Blackwater (Kells), which joins the Boyne at Navan, County Meath that unites the personal histories of poet Gerard Smyth and artist Sean McSweeney. Gerard Smyth spent many summers in Meath staying with his grandmother and an aunt, whilst originally Sen McSweeney’s family lived in Clongill until the untimely death of his father. Over two years Gerard Smyth revisited Meath in further inquiry with Belinda Quirke, Director of Solstice, in the development of a new suite of poems, recollecting and revisiting significant sites of occurrence in the poet’s and county’s history. Sean McSweeney created new work from trips to his original home place and the county. McSweeney here responds lyrically to particular sites of Smyth’s poetry, whilst also depicting in watercolour, ink, tempera and drawing, the particular hues of The Royal County.
The Yellow River is a tributary of the Blackwater (Kells), which joins the Boyne at Navan, County Meath that unites the personal histories of poet Gerard Smyth and artist Sean McSweeney. Gerard Smyth spent many summers in Meath staying with his grandmother and an aunt, whilst originally Sen McSweeney’s family lived in Clongill until the untimely death of his father. Over two years Gerard Smyth revisited Meath in further inquiry with Belinda Quirke, Director of Solstice, in the development of a new suite of poems, recollecting and revisiting significant sites of occurrence in the poet’s and county’s history. Sean McSweeney created new work from trips to his original home place and the county. McSweeney here responds lyrically to particular sites of Smyth’s poetry, whilst also depicting in watercolour, ink, tempera and drawing, the particular hues of The Royal County.
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AT THE GRAVE OF MICHAEL BATHE
This could be where you stood to see the stretch
in the evenings, a change in seasons,
to let your long gaze reach
the far end of your Elysium: its endless grass
and bridle path, the whole expanse of shades
like a dictionary of viridian.
This could be Thomas Hardy country:
trees and birds and birds in trees.
The first young buds appearing
before the branches become radiant again.
Spire and steeple on the green hill
that is an easy incline to church and churchyard
and ancient graves that long ago capsized.
Their stones have toppled, tilted, worn away
so that now dates are missing,
names are riddles or non-existent.
But yours is clear and upright Michael Bathe,
a Celtic Cross from Brunswick Street
still standing since the day they brought you here
and bedded you in: a rise of starlings above you.
the earth of Kilshine at your feet.
Kilshine, April 21 st , 2016
The Gates, Kilshine
Ink and watercolour on paper
20.5 x 14.5cm
2016
27
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