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.
ONLY ROCK ‘N’ ROLLGuitar riffs like sexual thrillswhen the band played Jumpin’ Jack Flash –and Jagger did his Shiva dance,sounding a little possessed.The crowds who wanted it never to endsat in the sun and under darkening clouds.Biblical numbers, someone said –like worshippers in a big temple.The drummer’s beat and the stomping feetcould all be heard far beyond the riverbend and the road that turnsto the ancient ruins of Monasterboice.For the last of the day they were Lordsof the Night, still rollingand tumbling the dice, making hearts race,the castle walls shake,guitars and percussion taking the long wayto the fadeout of encores,before everyone scattered,became fellow-travellers on the roadsthrough Dunsany, Dunshaughlin, Dunboyne.58
THE OLDCASTLE DANCEfor Shay KeoghIn 1971 at the Oldcastle danceit was Bubblegum and slow set ballads –we held our breathsand waited for the secret signswhen the DJ put on The Jackson Five.There was a glitterball for glitz,its hundred mirrors showingthe new beginners learning the ritualsof the dance pavilion.The girls of summer still had nameschosen from the list of saints –they were lissom, sinuousand in their night disguises they looked unlikethe truer versions of themselves –dreamers staring into the distance,convent girls in modest dress.The air was thick with their perfumes.In another age they might have beenthe temptress in the opera,Botticelli’s museor the Queen of Shebawhen she stood before Solomon.59
- Page 10 and 11: called “ his personal language as
- Page 12 and 13: My divining rod - and Seán’s rap
- Page 14: Yellow RiverWatercolour on paper14.
- Page 18 and 19: THE BLACKBIRDS OF WILKINSTOWNIt is
- Page 21 and 22: Ploughed FieldTempera on paper14.5c
- Page 24 and 25: GOLDEN WONDERSThey were watching th
- Page 27 and 28: AT THE GRAVE OF MICHAEL BATHEThis c
- Page 29 and 30: ON THE FARMDon’t look for those n
- Page 31 and 32: 31Summer FieldTempera on paper28 x
- Page 33: THE RAIN BARRELGrandmother was a ra
- Page 36: WHEN THE ELMS DIEDWhen the elms die
- Page 39 and 40: THE KILLJOY MONTH…..and I knewtha
- Page 41: (3)i.m. Paddy TraynorWith his turf-
- Page 44 and 45: MYSTERIESWho wore the Tara Brooch b
- Page 46 and 47: THE SALTED ROADSLand pays the price
- Page 49 and 50: BECTIVEThe house still stands but t
- Page 53 and 54: SUNDAY IN CATTLE COUNTRYSunday had
- Page 55 and 56: LEDWIDGE IN LOVE AND WARA small hou
- Page 57: THE DAY JIM REEVES DIEDThe day Jim
- Page 62: KNIGHTSTOWN, CODAIn memory of Mary
- Page 66 and 67: Autumn BoglandPastel on Paper14.5 x
- Page 68: ACKNOWLEDGEMENTSWhile the creation
ONLY ROCK ‘N’ ROLL
Guitar riffs like sexual thrills
when the band played Jumpin’ Jack Flash –
and Jagger did his Shiva dance,
sounding a little possessed.
The crowds who wanted it never to end
sat in the sun and under darkening clouds.
Biblical numbers, someone said –
like worshippers in a big temple.
The drummer’s beat and the stomping feet
could all be heard far beyond the river
bend and the road that turns
to the ancient ruins of Monasterboice.
For the last of the day they were Lords
of the Night, still rolling
and tumbling the dice, making hearts race,
the castle walls shake,
guitars and percussion taking the long way
to the fadeout of encores,
before everyone scattered,
became fellow-travellers on the roads
through Dunsany, Dunshaughlin, Dunboyne.
58
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