Samuel Beckett’s Telephone–2016

Last summer I fulfilled a lifelong dream of finally going to England and Ireland.  Ireland was what I wanted it to be. England will be another post.

The next time I go back to Ireland, hopefully Luas will be done with the light-rail, as the only drawback was that all of the Dublin streets were ripped up for a long-awaited extension of the trams.  One person asked us “Why did you come here now?”  Unfortunately we didn’t think to check the public works site to see if there was a major project on–I’ll know for next time.

Why we did come this year, to see Dublin in the 100th anniversary of the Easter Rising.  Even though the native Irish don’t feel that Irish-Americans should call themselves Irish, there was still plenty of cross-cultural bonhomie–everyone asked us if Trump had a chance at winning, terrified of the possibility.   I am an Irish-American by heritage, and people do ask if you have ancestors from Ireland, and are nice about it if you do have.  Alex was adopted also by virtue of being half Scots-American, since all at one time have had a common foe in the British–also a source of tragic mirth, having just voted for Brexit.  All the people we talked to drew parallels between Brexit voters and Trump voters.

We were only there for a week, and didn’t get to half the things I wanted to see.  Life goal met though–got to see The Book of Kells, though you can’t photograph it, which is understandable.  More baffling was the stricture on photographs at the Dublin Writers Museum.

My favorite thing there, which I recorded in a crude pen sketch, since I was disallowed from taking a picture of it, was Samuel Beckett’s telephone from Paris.  It has a red button on it that excluded all incoming calls.  A green button would allow incoming calls, but only from friends who knew what hour they were allowed to call.  As an introvert, I found this invention very relatable.

It’s the subject of my most current artwork.  Here is the progress of a drawing.  I’ll update as I get on.