The sense of solitude was immense. I could not see or realise my own body, and I seemed to exist merely in my perception of the waves and of the crying birds, and of the smell of seaweed – JM Sygne, The Aran Islands (1906)
A summer’s day Inis Oírr, long ago.
La Place de pierre de Léo, Inis Oírr, Aran Islands, Co Galway, Republic of Ireland.
Landscape may be said to exist in the eye of the beholder, a beholder who perceives not so much the objective scene as the look of it, the looking at it.
Words: Louis le Brocquy. Image: JesseJames
At Jesse’s suggestion, at James’s instigation both, first Jesse, then James, in penumbra urinated, their sides contiguous, their organs of micturition reciprocally rendered invisible by manual circumposition, their gazes, first Jesse’s, then James’s, elevated to the projected luminous and semiluminous shadow.
Words: James Joyce (adapted). Image: JesseJames.
To look back through it along the headlands that stand as if fixed for all eternity, one behind another to the limits of vision, is to look into the jaws of time – Tim Robinson, Stones of Aran: Pilgrimage.
A view from the JesseJames Seat, located on a beach on Inis Oírr where the artists found inspiration. It is said that this was JesseJames’s favourite seat on Inis Oírr. Situated on Trá Caorach and overlooking An Sunda Ó Dheas, the sound between Inis Oírr and the cliffs of Moher.
I described how the dolphins had danced on an evening of silken calm, leaping clear of the water in graceful arcs that crossed in pairs; as I had sat in a little field above the bay to watch, their plunges had been the only sound in the world. He listened to me expressionlessly, then turned his eyes to the dingy window and the dingy sky beyond. “That’s right” he said, and on Sunday morning they were all kneeling on the beach!”
Words: Tim Robinson, Stones of Aran: Pilgrimage. Image: detail from Inisheer Zibaldone by JesseJames.
I have been here in the winter
Suddenly they shut the pub
For three days
Words: overheard on An Trá. Image: JesseJames.
It is a pity indeed to travel and not get this essential sense of landscape values. You do not need a sixth sense for it. It is there if you just close your eyes and breathe softly through your nose; you will hear the whispered message, for all landscapes ask the same question in the same whisper. I am watching you – are you watching yourself in me?
Words: Lawrence Durrell, Spirit Of Place: Letters And Essays On Travel. Image: JesseJames.
The Zibaldone Project 