Art: Children’s mural/artist reception at Irish Arts Center

    How It’s New York: what is more New York than Hell’s Kitchen, and the terrific blend of ethnicities?
    How It’s Irish: The event takes place at Irish Arts Center, and it’s inspired by a translation of the poem “In the Footsteps of Colmcille”by John Montague.
    From our friends at the Irish Arts Center: an event blending poetry, art, education!

     

    Irish Arts Center in the Community 


    This month we’ve turned our gallery into a work space to host
    a collaborative children’s mural created by a group of 4th graders from the Hell’s Kitchen community.  Come hear about their experiences at our artists talk and reception on August 23, featuring the artists themselves and teaching artist Pamella Allen.
      



    A Collaborative Children’s Mural
     in association with our neighbors at
    Police Athletic League William J. Duncan Center 
     

      

    Artist Talk and Reception 

    Thursday, August 23 | 5:30 pm


    August – October

    Irish Arts Center Gallery

      

    Gallery hours by appointment

    Monday – Friday | 10 am – 6 pm   
    Please call 212-757-3318

      

    During the month of August, teaching artist Pamella Allen will devise a mural with a group of fourth graders from Irish Arts Center’s local Hell’s Kitchen community. Using John Montague’s translation of the Irish poem “In the Footsteps of Colmcille” as inspiration and as an introduction to the Irish language, students will engage, participate and become exposed to the arts and culture of Ireland while creating a unique and beautiful mural for display in the Irish Arts Center Gallery.

     

    Admission to Artist Talk and Reception: FREE
    Reserve through irishartscenter.org or 866-811-4111   
       
       
    “In the Footsteps of Colmcille”
    On some island I long to be ,
    a rocky promontory, looking on the coiling surface of the sea.
    To see the waves, crest on crest
    Of the great shining ocean, composing
    A hymn to the creator without rest.
    To see without sadness the strand
    Lined with bright shells, and birds
    Lamenting overhead, a lonely sound.
    To hear the whisper of small waves
    Against rocks, that endless
    Sea-sound, like keening over graves
    To watch the sea-birds sailing
    In flocks, amd most marvelous
    Of monsters the turning whale.
    To see the shift from ebbtide
    To flood and tell my secret name;
    “He who set his back on Ireland.”