aon mhac tíre
A few years ago Mica Sigourney and I decided to make a dance. So we packed up our backpacks and tents, laced up our boots and set out to walk the border between Ireland and north of Ireland.
The border used to be a hard border, with violence, smuggling and armed checkpoints. It became a soft border in 2006, you know you’ve crossed it when the mailboxes and street signs are different. The border is a line that traces across private property, along waterways and through forest. When we walked the border Brexit was imminent and it was still unclear if and how the border might change.
We walked, we hitched and we kayaked. We dangled our feet in holy wells and wild camped on lake shores and sea shores. Then we got in a studio in Zurich and wrote one epic poem or 26 monoliths, depending on your view- and performed it on 300 lbs of broken glass in the dark with supertitles, candles and blood letting in Amsterdam, San Francisco and Dublin.
Many Americans don’t understand the wreckage Brexit is bringing to these borderlands. I've also met many British and Irish folk who don't understand the risks. Needless to say there is wreckage.
I could go on about borders. I could go on about queerness and kin making. I could go on about immigration or the many other imaginary lines I find myself straddling, crossing, recrossing, and misplacing.
Instead, here’s the printed version of our performance- co-written in English, Gaeilge; these words were meant to be spoken - but since we can’t get on a stage near you anytime soon maybe you can read them out yourself.
It’s not a document of our walk, nor is it a document of the performance we made. It’s just what’s left.
Shipped in a Brown chipboard mailer- which doubles as storage.
Printed by Newspaper Club on 45gsm salmon broadsheet,
380mm x 578mm / 15 in x 23 inches,
Sourced from sustainably grown forest, printed on a web offset press using offset lithography.
Designed by Valerie Reid
A few years ago Mica Sigourney and I decided to make a dance. So we packed up our backpacks and tents, laced up our boots and set out to walk the border between Ireland and north of Ireland.
The border used to be a hard border, with violence, smuggling and armed checkpoints. It became a soft border in 2006, you know you’ve crossed it when the mailboxes and street signs are different. The border is a line that traces across private property, along waterways and through forest. When we walked the border Brexit was imminent and it was still unclear if and how the border might change.
We walked, we hitched and we kayaked. We dangled our feet in holy wells and wild camped on lake shores and sea shores. Then we got in a studio in Zurich and wrote one epic poem or 26 monoliths, depending on your view- and performed it on 300 lbs of broken glass in the dark with supertitles, candles and blood letting in Amsterdam, San Francisco and Dublin.
Many Americans don’t understand the wreckage Brexit is bringing to these borderlands. I've also met many British and Irish folk who don't understand the risks. Needless to say there is wreckage.
I could go on about borders. I could go on about queerness and kin making. I could go on about immigration or the many other imaginary lines I find myself straddling, crossing, recrossing, and misplacing.
Instead, here’s the printed version of our performance- co-written in English, Gaeilge; these words were meant to be spoken - but since we can’t get on a stage near you anytime soon maybe you can read them out yourself.
It’s not a document of our walk, nor is it a document of the performance we made. It’s just what’s left.
Shipped in a Brown chipboard mailer- which doubles as storage.
Printed by Newspaper Club on 45gsm salmon broadsheet,
380mm x 578mm / 15 in x 23 inches,
Sourced from sustainably grown forest, printed on a web offset press using offset lithography.
Designed by Valerie Reid
A few years ago Mica Sigourney and I decided to make a dance. So we packed up our backpacks and tents, laced up our boots and set out to walk the border between Ireland and north of Ireland.
The border used to be a hard border, with violence, smuggling and armed checkpoints. It became a soft border in 2006, you know you’ve crossed it when the mailboxes and street signs are different. The border is a line that traces across private property, along waterways and through forest. When we walked the border Brexit was imminent and it was still unclear if and how the border might change.
We walked, we hitched and we kayaked. We dangled our feet in holy wells and wild camped on lake shores and sea shores. Then we got in a studio in Zurich and wrote one epic poem or 26 monoliths, depending on your view- and performed it on 300 lbs of broken glass in the dark with supertitles, candles and blood letting in Amsterdam, San Francisco and Dublin.
Many Americans don’t understand the wreckage Brexit is bringing to these borderlands. I've also met many British and Irish folk who don't understand the risks. Needless to say there is wreckage.
I could go on about borders. I could go on about queerness and kin making. I could go on about immigration or the many other imaginary lines I find myself straddling, crossing, recrossing, and misplacing.
Instead, here’s the printed version of our performance- co-written in English, Gaeilge; these words were meant to be spoken - but since we can’t get on a stage near you anytime soon maybe you can read them out yourself.
It’s not a document of our walk, nor is it a document of the performance we made. It’s just what’s left.
Shipped in a Brown chipboard mailer- which doubles as storage.
Printed by Newspaper Club on 45gsm salmon broadsheet,
380mm x 578mm / 15 in x 23 inches,
Sourced from sustainably grown forest, printed on a web offset press using offset lithography.
Designed by Valerie Reid