Protestantism, Spectacle, Motherhood and Vice: Dublin's New Pleasure Gardens

In 1748, Bartholomew Mosse, a curious combination of surgeon, obstetrician and entertainment impresario, established a pleasure garden on the northern fringes of Dublin. Ostensibly designed to fund the construction of a maternity hospital to be located adjacently, Mosse’s New Pleasure Gardens became one of the premier leisure resorts in Dublin. This was to have a profound effect on the city’s urban form. Within a few years the gardens became an epicentre of speculative development as the upper classes jostled to build their houses in the vicinity. Meanwhile, the creation nearby of Sackville Mall, a wide and generous strolling ground, established a whole section of the city dedicated to haute spectacle, display and leisure. Like other pleasure gardens in the British Isles, Mosse’s venture introduced new, commodified forms of entertainment. In the colonial context of eighteenth-century Ireland, however, ‘a land only recently won and insecurely held’ (Foster, 1988) by the Protestant Anglo-Irish settler class, the production of culture and spectacle was perhaps more significant than elsewhere. Indeed, the form of Mosse’s gardens echoed the private city gardens of a key figure in the Anglo-Irish aristocracy, while the hospital itself was constructed in a style of a Palladian country house, symbol of colonial presence in the countryside. However, like other pleasure gardens, the mix of music and alcohol, the heterogeneous crowd culled from across social and gender boundaries, and a landscape punctuated with secluded corners, meant that it also acquired a dubious reputation as a haunt of louche and illicit behaviours. The curious juxtaposition between a maternity hospital and pleasure garden, therefore, begins to assume other, hitherto hidden complexities. These are borne out by a closer examination of the architecture of the hospital, the shape of its landscape and the records of its patrons and patients.

Dublin 1916: theatre of revolt

At Easter 1916, Dublin city centre was one of a series of sites throughout Ireland where a rebellion was staged against British rule. It was a strategic failure, swiftly crushed by superior British forces. The event, however, subsequently took a central role in the mythology of modern Ireland.

The first visual representations were of the conflict’s aftermath: photographic journeys through landscapes of ruin. From the distance of the camera, we see none of the pockmarks of shell bursts, nor the etchings of machine guns. Instead, traces of life in the city seem to have been swept aside by an unseen hand: the passing of millennia or a violent action of nature. Architecture alone has witnessed and recorded its presence. Amongst the fragments, the shell of the General Post Office (G.P.O.) in Sackville Street is one of the few buildings still wholly recognizable. The remnants of its classical form, portico and pediment, columns and entablature seem to transcend its prosaic modern functions and allude to something more ancient. The bewilderment of city’s inhabitants is also recorded. Dubliners have become inquisitive tourists in streets which hitherto were the locus of everyday life. They wander around aimlessly in a landscape as alien and picturesque as Pompeii. This shift in perception was captured by the Irish poet W.B. Yeats who hinted that Dublin, purged of modern commercialism had transcended its petty inadequacies to revive a slumbering heroic past.

‘I have met them at the close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses [.]’
All is changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.’

His comments were prescient. Initially unpopular, the republican leaders, executed by the British, slowly became recast as heroic martyrs. Similarly, the spaces where their heroism was forged became venerated. The G.P.O. and Sackville Street, however, already had a republican history. It was originally conceived in the eighteenth century as part of a series of magnificent urban spaces to provide an arena of spectacle and self-celebration for the colonial Anglo-Irish and their vision of a Protestant republic. O’Connell/Sackville Street became the temporal, geographical and mythical hinge upon which two different versions of Irish republicanism waxed and waned. Its recasting after independence as a space of Catholic Nationalism bore testimony to its consistency in providing a backdrop for the production of ritual and myth. In the 1920s and 30s, as the nascent country, beset with economic stagnation and political tensions, turned to spectacle as a salve for it social problems, O’Connell Street and the G.P.O. provided its most sacred sites. Within the introduction of new myths, however, individual as well as national identities were created and consolidated. The emerging identity of modern Ireland became inextricably linked with that of one ambitious politician. His uses of the G.P.O. in particular revealed a perceptive understanding of the political uses of classical architecture and urban space.

Dublin 1916: theatre of revolt

In his essay, Anti-Object, Kengo Kuma proposes that architecture cannot and should not be understood as object alone but instead always as series of networks and connections, relationships within space and through form. Some of these relationships are tangible, others are invisible. Stan Allen and James Corner have also called for an architecture that is more performative and operative – ‘less concerned with what buildings look like and more concerned with what they do’ – as means of effecting a more intimate and promiscuous relationship between infrastructure, urbanism and buildings. According to Allen this expanding filed offers a reclamation of some of the areas ceded by architecture following disciplinary specialization:

‘Territory, communication and speed are properly infrastructural problems and architecture as a discipline has developed specific technical means to deal with these variables. Mapping, projection, calculation, notation and visualization are among architecture’s traditional tools for operating at the very large scale’.

The motorway may not look like it – partly because we are no longer accustomed to think about it as such – but it is a site for and of architecture, a territory where architecture can be critical and active. If the limits of the discipline have narrowed, then one of the functions of a school of architecture must be an attempt occupy those areas of the built environment where architecture is no longer, or has yet to reach. If this is a project about reclamation of a landscape, it is also a challenge to some of the boundaries that surround architecture and often confine it, as Kuma suggests, to the appreciation of isolated objects.

M:NI 2014-15
We tend to think of the motorway as a thing or an object, something that has a singular function. Historically this is how it has been seen, with engineers designing bridges and embankments and suchlike with zeal … These objects like the M3 Urban Motorway, Belfast’s own Westway, are beautiful of course, but they have caused considerable damage to the city they were inflicted upon.

Actually, it’s the fact that we have seen the motorway as a solid object that has caused this problem. The motorway actually is a fluid and dynamic thing, and it should be seen as such: in fact it’s not an organ at all but actually tissue – something that connects rather than is. Once we start to see the motorway as tissue, it opens up new propositions about what the motorway is, is used for and does. This new dynamic and connective view unlocks the stasis of the motorway as edifice, and allows adaptation to happen: adaptation to old contexts that were ignored by the planners, and adaptation to new contexts that have arisen because of or in spite of our best efforts.

Motorways as tissue are more than just infrastructures: they are landscapes. These landscapes can be seen as surfaces on which flows take place, not only of cars, buses and lorries, but also of the globalized goods carried and the lifestyles and mobilities enabled. Here the infinite speed of urban change of thought transcends the declared speed limit [70 mph] of the motorway, in that a consignment of bananas can cause soil erosion in Equador, or the delivery of a new iphone can unlock connections and ideas the world over.

So what is this new landscape to be like? It may be a parallax-shifting, cognitive looking glass; a drone scape of energy transformation; a collective farm, or maybe part of a hospital. But what’s for sure, is that it is never fixed nor static: it pulses like a heartbeat through that most bland of landscapes, the countryside. It transmits forces like a Caribbean hurricane creating surf on an Atlantic Storm Beach: alien forces that mutate and re-form these places screaming into new, unclear and unintended futures.

And this future is clear: the future is urban. In this small rural country, motorways as tissue have made the whole of it: countryside, mountain, sea and town, into one singular, homogenous and hyper-connected, generic city.

Goodbye, place. Hello, surface!

"No Encores" The Royal Dublin Society Concert Archive Recitals in Retrospect: 1925-50

A large archive of sources for the RDS classical music recitals is extant in the Society’s Library, Ballsbridge, Dublin. The recitals were established in 1886 for the promotion of chamber music and in order to expose Dublin audiences to the works of the great composers. Extant in the collection are minute books; autographed programmes; newspaper cuttings which include previews, reviews and advertisements; correspondences with artists and agents; promotional material; selections of photographs; records of attendance, artists fees and takings; and volumes of printed music.
This paper will document the organisation, management and occurrence of the RDS classical music recitals for the period 1925 to 1950 and will encompass the opening of the current concert hall (The Members’ Hall, 1925), the Society’s bi-centenary celebrations (1931) and the continuance of the recitals within the context of the Second World War (1939- 45). The paper will examine and analyse the following: networks, repertoire and reception.
The RDS music committee established significant links with many performers and UK-based classical music agents. Recitalists include musicians of international renown; Myra Hess, Isolde Menges, Lili Kraus, Joseph Szigeti, Leon Goossens, Sir Hamilton Harty and The Hallé Orchestra, The Catterall Quartet and many local, Dublin-based musicians; Raidió Éireann Orchestra, Dublin String Orchestra, Dublin Philharmonic Orchestra and Culwick Choral Society. The compromises and collaborations in evidence between the music committee, agents and performers resulted in the presentation of varied and well-balanced programmes featuring sonatas, quartets, trios, concerti, overtures, symphonies and songs by composers including Beethoven, Mozart, Haydn and Brahms. Works by contemporary composers including Bax, Dohnanyi, Szymanowski and Suk were also regularly performed, as were works with an Irish influence or flavour. Audiences mainly consisted of members of the Society, music students were encouraged to attend at a reduced rate and reviews were regularly published in the Irish Times, Irish Independent and Irish Press.

Propuesta de normalización bibliográfica para la creación de metadatos basados en Dublin Core en los Repositorios Universitarios del proyecto 3R

El proyecto de 3R-Red de Repositorios Universitarios de Recursos Digitales es un trabajo de investigación orientado a desarrollar un prototipo de Repositorios Universitarios (RU) dentro de la UNAM. Parte de su trabajo se centra en la elaboración de políticas de descripción bibliográfica para aquellos objetos digitales que conforman los RU adscritos al proyecto. Actualmente esta labor ha consistido en el análisis y valoración de la Iniciativa de Metadatos Dublin Core (DCMI por sus siglas en inglés), en tanto que es un protocolo de transferencia de metadatos adecuado a los requerimientos de 3R. Sin embargo, dada la ambigüedad que DCMI presenta al momento de asentar información en algunos de sus elementos —tales como título, creador, editor y colaborador—, se previó la necesidad de utilizar esquemas alternos que coadyuven a la consignación y normalización de la información sobre los objetos digitales que conforman los RU. Por lo tanto, el presente trabajo aborda de manera concreta el problema de la descripción bibliográfica y de información en los quince elementos que componen el núcleo de Dublin Core, en paticular cuatro de ellos, al tiempo que propone la utilización de esquemas de codificación alternos para la descripción bibliográfica, como es el caso de las Reglas de Catalogación Angloamericanas 2a. edición (RCA2) y diferentes normas ISO, con el fin de obtener un cuerpo de metadatos que permita la recuperación y el intercambio de información entre los distintos Repositorios Universitarios que integran el proyecto de 3R.

Dublin, scène à l'extérieur de la prison Mountjoy : [photographie de presse] / [Agence Rol]

Référence bibliographique : Rol, 58864

A Dublin, scène à l'extérieur de la prison Mountjoy : [photographie de presse] / [Agence Rol]

Référence bibliographique : Rol, 58867

Horace Plunkett, conférence de Dublin [août 1920] : [photographie de presse] / [Agence Rol]

Référence bibliographique : Rol, 60690