Ireland is a turbulent place. This book engages readers with the contours of transformation of Irish society through a series of distinct episodes and sites where change can be confronted. The content of the book intersects with the boom and bust themes to explore the economic and social implications of the recession. The processes are as diverse as cross-border development, farming knowledges, food movements, and the evolution of traditional Irish music. The modernisation of Irish society during the Celtic Tiger and its subsequent demise was a 'spatial drama' involving transformation in the material landscape and the imaginative representation of the island. The first part of the book explores the revolving intersections of identity politics with place. It tracks the discovery of the ghost estate and the ways in which it has been implicated in debates about the Irish economic crash, complicating ideas of home and community. After a discussion on immigration, the book discusses the role of migrants in filling labour and skill shortages. The second part pays attention to questions of mobility and consumption in urban and rural contexts. The new Irish motorway network, free time, leisure and holidaying in the lives of lone parents during the Celtic Tiger, and the role of National Asset Management Agency (NAMA) are discussed. The third part explores diverse cultural practices and some longstanding representations of Ireland. An autobiographical tour of the pub session, National Geographic's representations of Irish landscape and the current Irish imagination are the key concepts of this part.
There is no soundtrack is a specific yet expansive study of sound tactics deployed in experimental media art today. It analyses how audio and visual elements interact and produce meaning, drawing from works by contemporary media artists ranging from Chantal Akerman, to Nam June Paik, to Tanya Tagaq. It then links these analyses to discussions on silence, voice, noise, listening, the soundscape, and other key ideas in sound studies. In making these connections, the book argues that experimental media art – avant-garde film, video art, performance, installation, and hybrid forms – produces radical and new audio-visual relationships that challenge and destabilize the visually-dominated fields of art history, contemporary art criticism, cinema and media studies, and cultural studies as well as the larger area of the human sciences. This book directly addresses what sound studies scholar Jonathan Sterne calls ‘visual hegemony’. It joins a growing body of interdisciplinary scholarship that is collectively sonifying the study of culture while defying the lack of diversity within the field by focusing on practitioners from transnational and diverse backgrounds. Therefore, the media artists discussed in this book are of interest to scholars and students who are exploring aurality in related disciplines including gender and feminist studies, queer studies, ethnic studies, postcolonial studies, urban studies, environmental analysis, and architecture. As such, There Is No Soundtrack makes meaningful connections between previously disconnected bodies of scholarship to build new, more complex and reverberating frameworks for the study of art, media, and sound.
shape fictions rooted in and refracting St. Petersburg and Rio de Janeiro,
as a function of peculiarly parallel development on geo-political and
mythical planes, on the materiallandscape and within cultural memory.
Offering an alternative mapping to the many surveys of modernism
grounded in concentric contexts (Paris and London, in particular) and
to consequently concentric constructions of modernist consciousness,
as well as an alternative to examinations of eccentric modernism only
in terms of derivation and delay, this study traces
make the edge as important as the center’ (1988: 28). Hopefully, the
research conducted here also provides some useful input to scholars
working to understand the national and local dynamics of Arctic politics
Furthermore, the boundaries we have focused on have primarily
been political boundaries, conceived of and realised in the landscape
through the workings of state power over centuries. With the focus on
these constructed boundaries (and the crossing of them), the materiallandscape of the Arctic (both its expanses and its depths
of Ireland’s wetlands.
The importance of earthy imagery in The Faerie Queene takes on new resonance when read within the context of a materiallandscape notorious for its ‘watery soyle’ and treacherous coastline. 17 Jon A. Quitslund comments, for example, that Spenser often represents ‘earth and water together as the substratum of animate life’; 18 however, the contexts brought to bear on Spenser’s poetry by the violence and labour involved in colonial plantation refigure cosmic archetypes as localised struggle. By anchoring readings in the kinds of
Tiger and its subsequent demise was a ‘spatial drama’
involving transformation in the materiallandscape and the imaginative representation of the island. Fuelled by what the progressive Irish think-thank
TASC has characterised as the Dublin Consensus – a mix of neoliberal and entrepreneurial discourses that consistently denied growing inequality and social
exclusion – the Tiger years were read as the ‘best of times’ (Fahey, Russell and
Whelan, 2007; Jacobson, Kirby and Ó Broin, 2006). The Celtic Tiger was very
successful at generating a coherent image of Ireland in
as a set of interpretations that they attached to the social
behaviours, economic activity and cultural inscriptions that they
believed were enacted at particular locales in the materiallandscape.
The meanings of place that attached to a particular locale for a given
individual were inter-subjective. That is, they were informed by that
person’s accumulating experience of other place meanings
attributes. Signs of their production are
everywhere, simultaneously embedded in the materiallandscape and in
narrative and song:
Every action of the ancestral beings had a consequence on the form of the
landscape. The places where they emerged from the earth became waterholes or the entrances to caves; where they walked, watercourses flowed;
and trees grew where they stuck their digging sticks in the ground …
where they died hills formed in the shape of their bodies, or lakes formed
from pools of their blood. Over time the features of the earth began to
take shape, and
Shaping and remembering an imperial city, 1870–1911
David Atkinson, Denis Cosgrove and Anna Notaro
these celebrations of the modern nation
consistently proposed direct connections across history with the Rome of antiquity.
Notwithstanding Gentile’s caveats, we want to highlight here the role of ideas of
empire and, crucially, their articulation through the urban fabric in the celebration of the
fiftieth anniversary of Italy in 1911.
Among the earliest large-scale attempts to display the classical heritage
of Rome through the materiallandscapes of the city were the excavations of the Roman Forum
politics, as does the decision to not allow
non-resident Irish citizens to vote. This contrast between more and less
visible forms of social transformation occurs in politics, in workplaces
and in cultural landscapes. Chapters 4 and 5 detailed some of the different ways in which migration transforms materiallandscapes, such as
through new buildings, new activities or new uses of existing spaces. For
example, migration sometimes results in new types of multi- or plurilingualism, or in new places of worship, or in new shops or restaurants
or other social spaces. These are