Yesterday, while walking on Tinaberna Strand with the hound, my eye was caught by a crude tombstone and head which some creative soul had carved into the low sandy cliff facing the sea. It was a strangely gloomy combination to see on the desolate stony beach, and put me in mind of Louis le Brocquy's ghostly ancestral heads, primitive tribal sculpture, or, less respectably, Lucio Fulci’s unpleasant, sloppy, crude zombie movies (they may be artistically questionable (to put it mildly), but his Zombie Flesh Eaters is one of the only films that has given me nightmares, which is strange considering it’s not very frightening (or even that good)). I imagine that in a few days the wind and rain may have dissolved it, something that makes me like it all the more. And, in an attempt to demonstrate that sometimes art can be found under your feet, below is a photo taken during the recent icy weather. It’s of the frozen water which filled the indentations made in mud by a tractor’s tyres.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Wexford Sights (VIII)
In these straitened times we need good art more than ever, something that is explained by the excellent article by Fintan O'Toole here. The following is a song I heard first many years ago and only rediscovered this evening, when for some reason it popped into my head when I was lazily browsing on YouTube. It's the B-Side to Scott Mackensie's silly and dated novelty "If You're Going To San Francisco", which my father bought as a 45 way back when in the sixties, and is a far superior song. It has a strange melancholy that I find quite haunting, although maybe it's because I associate it with my childhood.