Borders
Eile
{Border-Fictioning}
Exploring the Irish and UK relationship, Eile {Border-Fictioning} was an immersive, otherworldly exhibition at Bloc Projects that brought together film, sound, sculpture and a live performance on the opening night. It is part of the broader project ‘Eile’ which explores global identity and citizenship, movement and migration through the lens of Ireland’s partition.
Bíonn Eile ag snámh faoi scáth diamhair Mhuir Éireann
crúb á dhéanamh den lámh atá sínte amach.
Éisteann siad.
Sean-neacha seo na smúite agus na láibe,
Le cogair ghrágacha, a bhíonn le cloisteáil trasna na mara, i bhfad thíos faoin mbruth agus faoin mborradh farraige.
amhail loinneog na fidle ar foluain.
Ar ghrinneall na farraige a bhíonn siad ag sleamhnú agus ag sciurdadh
Rúin dhearmadta á nochtadh lena nóntraí,
Saol nach bhfuil tagtha go fóill á ghairm lena n-adharcáin, le bogha agus téada sínte amach.
Domhantuiscint ar amanna agus spásanna éagsúla ag muintir maorga seo an tseansaoil,
Trasnaíonn siad machairí agus síneann tríd na tonnta, an fharraige mhór agus a créatúir - is beag imní a dhéanann teorainneacha dóibh.
Déantar deannach de ladhracha agus eireaball Eile,
Na billiún cáithníní bídeacha
Ag guairneán ina gcuaifeach, ag rince,
San aer, ag éisteacht tríd an ngaoth le teacht ar mhonabhar an tosta.
Ag meascadh le pailin, baictéir, deatach, luaithreamhán, criostail, gaineamh.
Ag gluaiseacht go gasta
Níos moille anois
Ag rothlú go fóill,
Ag síorghluaiseacht
Na gráinníní gléineacha sin, ag princeam san aer ar fud spáis agus ama - is beag imní a dhéanann teorainneacha dóibh.
Éiríonn Eile socair agus téann in abar,
An duibheagán dothomhaiste á slogadh.
Ag tochailt
Ag bá sa sean-spúinse searbh.
Ag snámh i strataim lobhaidh bhréin
Bunúsach agus coitianta.
Garda an ama,
Gabhálaithe na rún
Ach ní catacómaí iad seo,
Ach tairseacha méithe;
Ag cur thar maoil.
Maitrís leitheadach an saoil bitheolaíochta agus an saoil spioradálta, ag sní trí spás agus am.
Leapacha seo an domhain, atá athghiniúnach agus íocshláinteach - is beag imní a dhéanann teorainneacha dóibh.
Eile swims in the arcane shadows of the Irish sea
outstretched hand becoming claw.
They listen.
These old creatures of the murk and mud,
with raspy whispers, that carry across the ocean, far below the surf and swell.
like the floating refrain of a violin.
Through Davy Jones’ Locker they scuttle and glide
Their serenading song conjuring forgotten secrets,
Their antennae summon a world yet-to-come, with outstretched bow and strings.
For these dignified ancients carry a deep knowledge of different times and spaces,
They traverse these planes and reach through waves - for the ocean and her critters care not for borders.
Eile’s pincers and tail become dust,
A billion tiny particles
Swept up and swirling, dancing,
Airborne, listening over the wind to find the whispering that is made up of silence.
Mingling with pollen, bacteria, smoke, ash, crystals from the ocean, sand.
Faster they move
Slower now
Still whirling,
Always moving
For those luminous specks, dancing with the air and across space and time, care not for borders.
Eile settles, and sinks,
Melting into the unfathomable darkness.
Digging
Drowning in the old, acidic sponge.
Bathing in stratas of rot and rank
Primitive and ordinary.
Jailor of time,
Captors of secrets
Yet these are not catacombs,
But fertile portals;
Teaming.
A vast matrix of bios and zoes, weaving through space and time.
For these beds of the earth, regenerative and restorative, care not for borders.