CITIES TEND to look better at night. Darkness certainly became Dublin last evening as flashing lights and candles added to the carnival atmosphere.
Liberty Hall was an event in itself: a column of coloured lights that one minute seemed like a dream birthday cake. Then in an instant, it transformed itself into flickering flames.
The streets were busy and even looked younger, happier. And that’s only the natives: the visitors appeared transfixed as classical music, rock and traditional competed with the majestic bells of Christ Church cathedral.
For the group of Italian visitors, all of whom were making a first visit to Ireland, the night was a success.
Where else could one spend an entire evening viewing an exhibition of Munch’s drawings as well as a national collection? Timing is all, and as people enjoy attending concerts at night, why not be able to visit galleries?
The amount on offer was dazzling, even overwhelming. The more competitive took to running from venue to venue. Minor disputes were overheard as parties spilt on where to go. Civic Hall drew so many visitors that it was not possible to push one’s way in without resorting to behaviour ill-suited to the elegance of the architecture.
A small army marched on Dublin Castle as if intent on laying siege to it. But one of the delights of the evening was the chance to see a very historic house, Number 15 Usher’s Quay, lit by candles.
Built in 1760, the house which provided the setting for Joyce’s finest story, The Dead, was attracting many pilgrims. It is a beautiful building, lean and uncluttered, and as various shapes shimmered and appeared as if out of nowhere in the shadows on the wall, it looked the perfect place for a séance.
John Houston’s film version of The Dead played on a screen, while in an adjoining upstairs room, reading gave way to conversations. Joyce’s presence presides over Dublin rather as Dickens continues to hold court in London. A woman’s excited whisper announced: “I’m going to run over to the library and see the Yeats exhibition.”
The man with her said “it’s over”. She seemed shocked and cried with some panic, “I’d better ask someone, and then I’m going to visit Oscar Wilde. Well, look at him over the railing.”
Children were out in numbers, with very decided opinions on what they wanted to see. For the family group standing on Dame Street, the mother was pleased that the little girl liked watching the people, but was less delighted at her son, who wanted to go home. He was an exception. While he moaned and sighed, everyone else was studying the programmes and planning the best route.
The roadsweeper, who was stopped and asked if he was part of a performance, was good natured about the enquiry.
The science museum at Trinity College looked dramatic from the street beneath, the fascinated faces of the people inside offered a performance of its own making.
A Dublin landmark, St Stephen’s Church, its famous front facade still awaiting work, hosted a flute and piano recital. Chopin’s Ballade No 1 in G Minor graced the scene. John McCrodden looked pleased with the restoration work completed to date and mentioned with impressive directness the need to raise a further €100,000.
Culture Night should be every night, or at least once a month. Recession Ireland drifted into the background and comments were made about the beauty of the period buildings. Georgian Dublin retains a dignified allure all of its own.
Many of the culture nighters out last night seemed as content to stroll along looking at the buildings as they were to attend the events. Although it makes one feel like a child with only about 20 minutes to taste every chocolate on display, what’s wrong with that?