TV Guide

Household 2013 Edition

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Hiding it She feels is best.Shame keeps her smilingWhile her mind Swims through the tar.

She talks to her motherThrough the soles of her feetBecause she has seen.

Showing itShe feels is wrong.Joy keeps her morbidWhile her mindDrags through the meadows.

She talks to her lover Through the tips of her fingersBecause he cant feel.

Who are we kidding.

Front Cover...............................................................................Dave Loder

1. Public/Private .................................................................. Jayne Cherry

1. Sculpture Trail ................................................................. Jayne Cherry

2. Dirtbird of the Week...................................Sinéad Bhreathnach-Cashell

3. Icons of the North..................................................................Paula Blair

5. This is no reality show............................................................Dave Loder

7. Icons of the North (cont.).......................................................Paula Blair

9. Levitation............................................................................Stuart Calvin

10. A Quiet Moment..................................................................John D’Arcy

Rear Cover...........................................................................Aisling O’Beirn

Copyright © 2013 the publishers, authors and contributers. All rights

reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the prior

written permission from the publishers and the copyright owners.

This publication has been compiled, curated and published by

Pollen Studios & Gallery, Belfast, for the 2013 Household arts festival.

An installation in the public spaces around the Household area. Use the

clues to make your way to the exhibits. They are quiet and may surprise

you. Ask a Householder for assistance if required.

[CONTENTS]

[PRIVATE/PUBLIC] [SCULPTURE TRAIL]

ready with your

back towardssatis house

breathe up and in

step off the front

go right or left

walk without thinking

keep looking up

until the end

of walls, houses, pavement

breathing steady now

if left before - do it againif right - same rules apply.

24 regular steps - breathing faster

if left before - do it againif right - same rules apply

now slowly.forward.

both sides - find them

they are there.

The Lesser-Spotted Street Sweeper is the most suburban bird of all; it lives

in abandoned houses and frequents alleyways, embankments and open-

air cafes – where it will even snatch scraps from people’s plates. A study

of feral Street Sweepers revealed that in winter they live almost entirely

on bread, chips and crumbs they manage to sweep together. Their nests

are also made from sweepings dropped by people with whom they share

the streets. There is something of a challenge in tracking them down.

They used to be confined to domestic settings but the liveliness which

makes the birds amusing to watch, also turns them into clever nuisances

at times. They are the chief culprits in sporadic outbreaks of milk stealing.

If they get inside a house they may have a mania for tearing paper. Strips

are torn from wallpaper and books, newspapers and labels; putty and

other objects may be attacked. No one really knows why they do this, but

it may be what is known as a ‘dissociated’ hunting activity.

[DIRTBIRD OF THE WEEK] 2

Artists have created things to be communicated: they

have not created communication. [...] Tele-vision is the art of

communication itself, irrespective of message. Television exists

in its purest form between the sender and the receiver [...and]

provides the means by which one can control the movement of

information throughout the environment.

- Gene Youngblood[1]

Since the emergence of video art in the 1960s, many artists have used

the technology to disrupt the passivity of viewers of mainstream media,

such as cinema and television. Irish-born artist Duncan Campbell’s video

installations are examples of works that blur the distinctions between

‘passive’ spectators of mass media and the more ‘active’ gallery goer.

Through inventive use of archival footage mixed with fictional elements

in the pseudo-documentaries Bernadette (2008) and Make it New John (2009), Campbell reconstructs the mythologies surrounding two iconic

personae with brief but phenomenal effects on life in Northern Ireland

during the conflict. The reinvented figures are former nationalist MP

Bernadette Devlin McAliskey, who made a political impact during the

late 1960s and early 1970s, and controversial American car engineer John

Zachary DeLorean, whose company’s West Belfast branch produced the

famed gull-wing door DMC-12 in the late 1970s to early 1980s. This article

explores how Campbell uses the tools, methods and materials of media

storytelling to create new myths, and draw attention to our susceptibility

as viewers to accept the ‘truthfulness’ of mediated stories.

Campbell is based in Glasgow but lived in Belfast for a time. His art

is shaped by artistic, literary and cultural influences and the readymade

materials that are available to him. In Bernadette and Make it New John,

he interrogates documentary and biography by removing the Devlin

and DeLorean media ‘players’ from the reality of their peaks in the press

spotlight, and placing them in a fictional universe of his construction,

which is made possible through footage retrieval. Campbell’s re-

implementations of archival material mixed with newly recorded live

action and animated sequences afford him several freedoms; while

playing with the language of film and television, he also provides

commentary on the ease with which icons are made, exalted and

discarded by press and broadcast media. The ingredients of conventional

narrative and documentary film are present, such as match-cutting,

voiceover and the chronological order of clips, yet the overall narratives

of the films are incoherent. The images and audio are often disjunctively

sequenced, which exudes a sense of disconnection surrounding Devlin and

DeLorean during their significant time periods and political climates.

The use of found footage in the films is not simply a link to the past;

it connects video art and experimental film-making to the immediacy

of television journalism. When filmed, many of the clips featured in

Bernadette and Make it New John involved Devlin and DeLorean’s

spontaneous responses to questions that were part of regional and

national live broadcasts. Such footage is not necessarily intended for use

beyond communicating the news story as it unfolds, and only survives

through processes of archivization. By re-presenting the material, and

re-contextualizing it by splicing it with originally shot footage of his own,

Campbell assumes a kind of ownership of it, and to an extent, shares

that ownership with the contemporary audience. His reconstitution of

televisual material expands Gene Youngblood’s notion (quoted in the

epigraph) of controlling the movement of information between the

sender and receiver. The stock footage is liberated from its past meaning

and placed in association with other materials and textures to form new

narratives. Moreover, the act of replaying the footage in itself exudes a

sense of renewal. For example, in an examination of Samuel Beckett’s

teleplays – whose work is a great influence on Campbell’s – Graley Herren

asserts that ‘[t]elevision simultaneously kills and resuscitates that which

it records’, and notes that Beckett’s teleplays featured ghosts ‘because all

televisual images are essentially traces of the “living dead”’ that become

‘dead artifacts’ which can be ‘reanimated’ at any time.[2] Campbell’s films

engage in a process of ‘reanimating’ archival material – dead artefacts –

that during their original broadcasts were at once live, dying and dead,

and are now transformed into new artefacts, new myths.

Political activist Devlin became the youngest woman to win a

seat in the Westminster Parliament in 1969 as an independent ‘Unity’

Icons of the North: Myth-making and the Television Archive

[FEATURE]

candidate for Mid Ulster, which she held until 1974. She was a member

of the People’s Democracy, a socialist group originating among students

of Queen’s University Belfast in 1968, and took part in many marches

organized by the Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association during this

period. Her passion for her cause was often exhibited publicly, particularly

when she was sentenced to a six-month jail term for incitement during the

Battle of the Bogside in Derry in 1969, and again when she punched the

British Home Secretary, Reginald Maudling, in response to his comments

during a Commons sitting the day after Bloody Sunday in 1972. Since

losing her seat in parliament, she has remained active in supporting

marginal members of the community, including interned prisoners in the

1980s and immigrant workers today.

DeLorean’s story intersects with Ireland’s strive for modernity, for

which the ‘colonial exchange’ of commerce was seen as a viable solution.

The ‘civilizing mission’ of the DeLorean Motor Company was one of

‘corporate finance rendered in startling material form’ in the stainless

steel DMC-12.[3] DeLorean had risen through the hierarchy of General

Motors in the USA, but left inexplicably in 1973 and started his own

company with investment loans in 1975. After an extensive search for a

location that provided cheap labour and an appropriate factory site with

the possibility of state subsidy, DeLorean set up a branch of his company

in Dunmurry in 1978. The British government had secured an arrangement

to situate it in Northern Ireland in an endeavour to create jobs that would

address the region’s high rate of unemployment while endeavouring to

undercut recruitment to paramilitary organizations. This proved to be

both a misunderstanding of the nature of the Troubles, and misguided

faith in the ‘inveterate fantasist’, DeLorean.[4] The car, now immortalized

in Back to the Future (Zemeckis, 1985), had severe design flaws, frequent

recalls and poor sales. This, along with controversies among the heads

of the firm, led to the company’s bankruptcy and closure in 1982.

Several months later, DeLorean was arrested for his involvement in drug

smuggling, but was acquitted two years later as the case was found to be

an FBI sting. When he died in 2005, he was still wanted for questioning in

the UK on fraud charges.[5]

What is interesting about these two figures, and perhaps why

Campbell chose them as subjects for two of his films, is the tension

between their private and public lives. Devlin and DeLorean had as much

of a hand in creating their public personae as the media did. Devlin in

particular attempted to construct the public narrative of her own history

through both her self-representation in countless television appearances

and public demonstrations, and the written word. Her autobiography, The

Price of My Soul (1969), sees the author in conflict between her political

duty and how the subsequent public intrusion on her life compromises her

identity as an individual. Richard Kirkland points out that Devlin manages

to objectify herself in her ‘self-perception as a “phenomenon”’ – a process

linked to identitarianism that ‘indicates the creation of an identity position

that is fully explicable by seemingly abstract historical and material forces

and one that, as a result, demands the rejection of extraneous personal

detail as an irrelevance’.[6] Campbell’s Bernadette visualizes this rejection

of personal detail, as well as Kirkland’s observations that a social grouping

– specifically in this case, collective nationalism – must ‘renew the images

by which it is constituted, and offer as many ways of reforming the self as

possible’. For example, in Bernadette, personal detail is omitted due to

the non-existence of it in source materials such as The Price of My Soul. It is from the source materials that any personal detail is formed anew,

the act of which distances the re-packaging of Bernadette Devlin further

outside the collective nationalism to which she was already peripheral.

Campbell has stated that when making Bernadette he found ‘revealing

moments in abundance’ when searching through footage of her, that are

seen in the many passionate articulations from her during the film.[7]

DeLorean was more elusive, as is apparent throughout the film. He is

reserved and speaks with calm collectedness, and never expressed a

desire to reclaim a self-narrative in the fervent way Devlin still does.

However, his charismatic self-presentation in public greatly contrasts his

private actions. Where the integration of the autobiography expands the

source material in Bernadette, there is no such resource for DeLorean.

Instead, Campbell frames the archival footage with fictionalizations that

create an impression of what his life may have been as a young man, and

to represent the repercussions on others of his brief time in Northern

Ireland.

Bernadette unfolds in three disjointed sections that are all indicative

of Devlin’s contentious relationship with media portrayals of her. The

first section begins in a style similar to Viking Eggeling or Len Lye’s

modernist experiments with animated sound. Sporadic beeps match

white scratches onscreen, and a loud intrusive buzzer sounds against

drawn swirls, establishing an initial, if abstract, connection to noise and

momentum seen in Samuel Beckett’s films and plays. The sounds carry

into monochromic live action images where the camera moves aimlessly,

picking up nearby walls and the ground at too close a range to give a

sense of location, only the whitish-grey of concrete. Clicks, buzzing, pops

and squeaks are synchronous with visual disruptions, including jump

cuts, focus changes and animated black spots and lines. Gradually, parts

of a chair and fragments of its occupant appear in the sequence, which

becomes intercut with early stock footage of Devlin’s face in extreme

close ups. The tight camera angles and film texture of these inserts

imply matches with the added material, which was filmed thirty years

later using a stand-in. This illusion inherent to film production gives a

believable, if disjointed, depiction of a youthful Devlin. The inserts of

the real Devlin are taken from intermittent moments during televised

interviews. In appropriating these images, Campbell removes her from

past contexts while revealing the contrivances involved in the recording

process. As well as seeing what should not be seen, the audience is denied

the natural flow of typical televised shot-reverse-shot interviews.

Make it New John develops over four sections, beginning with

an abstract fictionalized account of DeLorean’s childhood, and then

his adolescence spent steeped in 1940s/50s Californian culture – cars,

girls, beaches and surfing – set to the summery sound of ‘Little GTO’ by

Ronnie and the Daytonas. This is followed by DeLorean’s introduction

to the car manufacturing industry coinciding with economic crises and

fuel shortages, his prosperous beginnings in Belfast, the subsequent

contentions with the British government and, finally, in DeLorean’s

absence, a depiction of the staff protests upon the demise of the

DeLorean Motor Company’s factory in Belfast.

Where Devlin is ‘chopped up’ at the beginning of Bernadette,

DeLorean’s childhood interests and experiences are explored in a

surrealistic non-dialogue narrative in Make it New John. The beginning

depicts the boy’s attention towards his physical appearance by showing

him daubing makeup onto his face at a mirror, which immediately evokes

notions of the constructed self-image. At times the boy looks directly to

the camera, as if to face the public who is observing him. The sequence

that follows includes rapid intercutting between a male figure moving

4

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towards the camera, the boy wincing, a close up of a shoulder as a

checked shirt sleeve tears off, close ups of the boy’s face, mid-shots of

him in the mirror and a child’s drawings of supercars, all accompanied by

the distant rumblings of a passing train. A vague narrative emerges in a

further sequence: the boy solders a self-made device, a man – presumably

the boy’s father – shaves, a door slams, the boy falls forward onto a bed

wearing the same checked shirt. The frame lingers on him as he looks

pointedly over his shoulder, we imagine towards the door, as footsteps

approach, which likely belong to an unseen parental figure. The boy runs

down a stairway on the house exterior, partly followed by the father who

is topless with shaving foam on his face looking on in bemusement or

dismay. The scene cuts to a tracking shot of the boy running along a street

at night, the dark frame punctuated by lights of shop fronts as he races

past. Head-and shoulder-close ups are superimposed with animations

and a glowing light bulb as bells clang on the audio, heralding his bright

ideas for the future after fleeing from his family. Later, a still of the real

DeLorean as a young man is revealed in two stages to draw attention to

his features prior to undergoing plastic surgery; his chin looks distinctly

different later in the film. The lower half of the posed portrait reveals a

small chin and shoulders, while a cut to the upper half of the picture above

the chin shows his tanned face and black hair. This revelation reiterates

the constructed nature of DeLorean as man, image and brand.

The substantial third section in Make it New John largely allows

the archival footage to relay the narrative of DeLorean’s incredible

intersection with British politics. Not only was the DMC affected by

the shift in government from Labour to Conservative in 1979, given the

almost constant presence of news crews when DeLorean was in town, the

factory site became the backdrop for numerous protests in the early 1980s

concerning internment and the Republican hunger strikes. Additionally,

the Labour-initiated project that subsidized the factory had an economic

focus to ease the high rates of unemployment in Northern Ireland in the

mid-1970s. By the time the Tories came to power, it emerged that the

company was floundering with the livelihoods of 2000 staff at stake.

Throughout this part of the film, former Conservative MP Lord James

Prior offers arm’s length support to the DMC. The sequencing of clips

that feature him, and the camera’s focus on him during a factory visit,

create a sense of vulnerability in DeLorean’s usually charismatic towering

figure. Most of the stock footage featuring DeLorean accentuates the

media’s fixation with him, yet in a reversal of power, Prior attracts all the

attention whenever he is present. The way in which Campbell sequences

the appropriated media fragments is of interest; what was filmed in the

past with a news coverage agenda holds different connotations in the

new context. At first, Prior is wholly supportive, but as time passes and

the company struggles, his support waivers and eventually the DMC goes

into receivership. When we see Prior emerging from the parliamentary

delegation where this decision was made, he is obscured by hoards of

press representatives. The wide angle shot of the heavily populated

scene depicts the extent of newsworthiness of this event. To consider it

in the fictional context of Make it New John, the plethora of cameras and

amount of images of Prior being captured simultaneously here, implies

multiplicity on his part, and provides an alternative to the negative public

opinion of DeLorean’s frivolous conduct – conduct which is indicated in

the frequency of interviews given in airports as he queues for Concorde.

The ambivalent constructions of DeLorean as man and company

signify both the failure and cult status of which the audience is typically

already aware. Campbell notes the paradox of the stainless steel gull-

winged car that ‘looks futuristic’ and ‘leaden with potential’, as shown in

tantalizing publicity material for the car that in fact ran like ‘an old

croc’.[8] The DMC-12 exuded surface glamour while its essential function

failed, mirroring later public perception of its creator who had injected

the American Dream into Belfast’s working class, only for their jobs

and prospects to disintegrate. In a similar way, the middle section of

Bernadette races through the portion of her story that played out in the

public eye. Devlin’s tension with news media is in evidence throughout;

while she claims fervently that they intruded on her personal life, they

become useful to her at demonstrations, particularly those addressed

directly to the British government and security forces. She interacts with

journalists while continuing with her agenda, staying on the move and

forcing them to walk with her, or persisting in her addresses to supporters

while aware of, but ignoring, the camera. In capturing, and perhaps

provoking, her immediate reactions to events – including the aftermath of

her assault on the Home Secretary – the media have provided records of

British and Irish political history, as well as observations of an individual’s

raw commitment to a cause. It is the spectator’s intensive exposure

to such captured live instances amid the clearly constructed first and

third sections that gives rise to an interrogation of Devlin’s claims of

the media’s ownership of her, and her image’s assimilation into public

property beyond her control.

The final section of Bernadette implements text from The Price of My Soul with passages read by an actress over transitions between the

book’s publicity stills which meld into kaleidoscopic superimpositions

of moments cropped from more stock footage. The voice interrupts the

reading to berate itself:

A. The press – as far as they were concerned I was a mass of

flesh which had become public property, and they were entitled

at any hour of the day or night to interrupt anything I was doing.

They couldn’t understand why I –

B. Christ! When did you start saying I to myself to yourself

all the time... I... I... and all the time you... you somewhere like

someone there you’re there... no one’s there... you are there and

you have been there and have not left... there’s no one there.

The tangential monologue developed out of Devlin’s autobiography

echoes the language style of That Time (Beckett, 1976) which features a

man’s voice split in three, and borrows from its text: ‘never the same but

the same as what for God’s sake did you ever say I to yourself in your life

come on now’.[9] The exchange persists as two versions of Bernadette vie

to be heard, the sudden interjections from the second voice puncturing

the soft flow of the first, reshaping her into a Beckettian-style character.

The voices in the film continue to argue about the past, which indicates

that underlying concerns about past actions begin to move into ‘self’-

criticism: ‘It’s all the same the same except you still here not here exactly

but haunting here those scenes only bob up because you let them float’.

This schizophrenic tension between ‘you’ and ‘I’ in Campbell’s

fabrication of Bernadette, asserts a critical comment on the duality of

both the real and created Bernadette characters by adapting the same

material used in past processes to generate entirely new versions, or loose

interpretations, of her story. The voice ponders on the whereabouts of ‘a

simple beginning’ and regresses to outlining disjointed memories of her

youth while addressing herself largely as ‘you’. This mediated splitting of

7

[1] G. Youngblood (1970), Expanded Cinema, New York: Dutton, p. 337.

[2] G. Herren (2007), Samuel Beckett’s Plays on Film and Television, New York: Palgrave

Macmillan, p. 5.

[3] R. Kirkland (2007), ‘That Car: Modernity, Northern Ireland and the DMC-12’, Field Day

Review, 3, pp. 94-107 (p. 97).

[4] Kirkland, ‘That Car’, p. 98.

[5] Kirkland, ‘That Car’, p. 107.

[6] R. Kirkland (2002), Identity Parades: Northern Irish Culture and Dissident Subjects,

Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, p. 153.

[7] E. Yule (2010), Tramway: Artist in Conversation – Duncan Campbell Part 1, [Online],

Available: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8qXm1I1KSss [4 Jan 2011].

[8] E. Yule (2010), Tramway: Artist in Conversation – Duncan Campbell Part 2, [Online],

Available: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YoPRWuRoS9Q&feature=related[4 Jan 2011].

[9] S. Beckett (1976), Ends and Odds: Eight New Dramatic Pieces, New York: Grove Press,

Inc., p. 31.

[10] Herren, Samuel Beckett’s Plays, p. 1.

[11] Herren, Samuel Beckett’s Plays, p. 4.

[12] Herren, Samuel Beckett’s Plays, p. 12.

Devlin’s personality straddles the public and the private in its guise as a

stream-of-consciousness monologue that is part of a publicly screened

film. The voice also attempts to psychologize the inability to attain self-

knowledge, perhaps as a residual effect of managing public versions of

yourself: ‘it was always the same the same old thought in the same old

head [...] a voice not your own you don’t know’.

Campbell uses a different method in the closing section of Make it New John. Instead of juxtaposing disjointed language and images, he

sets up a fictional television interview between a British journalist and

five factory workers to examine DeLorean’s disconnection through his

abandonment of the failed company. Based on the sit-in protests held by

the many of the factory’s staff as it fell into receivership, the film presents

conflictions among the workers over who to blame for the factory’s

failure. The five men express disparate views, and during their heated

discussions, distractions in the off-screen space cause them to dwindle

in numbers until one remains. Significantly, the last man sitting is named

John (played by Ian McElhinney). He is the most reserved of the group and

says next to nothing until the very end of the film when he is provoked

by the journalist. Seen in a long take that zooms in and out, John tries to

read a newspaper but the unseen journalist persistently questions him.

She asks what his wife thinks of the threat to his employment and the

plant’s imminent closure, forcing him to confess that he never married.

She eventually goads him into explaining that he is alone because

he mistreated his fiancée years before, and work is all he has. John’s

discomfort is clear and he enquires on the whereabouts of the others.

The interviewer directs the camera operator to ‘just keep rolling’ and

continues, but John becomes unable to finish his sentences. Connections

emerge between the working class John and the depiction of the absent

Mr DeLorean, whose real-life circumstances destabilized at this time, and

attracted criticism and scrutiny from the news media. The screenplay and

staging of the final section is relatively conventional compared to the rest

of the film, and indeed all of Bernadette, but the same themes of isolation

and disconnectedness emerge, as do ambiguities of character. The end

of Make it New John presents the tension between the public and private

self in a question-and-answer session where knowledge is sought but only

impressions are attained.

There are many examples of similarities to Beckett’s range of work in

Campbell’s, not only in his formation of characters and use of language.

Notably, Herren observes that ‘Beckett heeded Ezra Pound’s clarion call

to “make it new” by “making it old anew”’ in his teleplays by broadcasting

‘multilayered, medium-specific confrontations between present and past,

perception and memory, subject and object, presence and absence’. When

he ‘made it old’ in his broadcasts, it did not mean that they were ‘mired in

nostalgia’. Instead, he used ‘mechanical media – first radio, then film, and

ultimately television – to serve as memory machines: sites for recollecting

and reinventing personal, philosophical, and artistic pasts.[10] Campbell’s

experiments with media have followed this model to a certain extent by

testing the artistic capacity of radio before merging film and television

processes and materials. In these convergences, of which Bernadette and

Make it New John are only two examples, Campbell presents motivations

similar to those behind Beckett’s ‘memory machines’ – to push

technological limitations and offer new views of the past. Herren also

refers to Derrida’s observation of the ‘spectral nature of recorded media –

never truly there, yet always with us’, which is visualized and verbalized in

Bernadette and Make it New John with kaleidoscopes of Devlin’s image,

stills that show mirror images of the protagonists’ faces while obscuring

the ‘actual’ face, and the language in the films’ closing dialogues.[11]

Campbell’s version of Devlin speaks for herself, and at herself, always in

tension with presence and absence. DeLorean increasingly becomes a

non-presence who is speculated about, much like his actual presence/

absence during the real time period. Both figures had impacting presence

in their times and have left ghostly impressions, fading memories, that

are reviewable thanks to television archives, which adds significance to

the already ambiguous title of Make it New John. Given his influence by

and knowledge of Beckett’s work and processes, Campbell is well aware

of Pound’s challenge for artists to ‘make it new’, on which Beckett wrote

a response in Disjecta (1983). It confronts the fictional/factual, public/

private ‘Johns’ of the film to bring about change, to alter the present and

future by re-interpreting the past.

The Bernadette and DeLorean characters are both protagonists

who become antagonists by the ends of the films in mythologies derived

from real people and events where the factual sources of the past are

reshaped into the fictions of floating presents. The spectral presences

of both subjects continue to drift in cultural memory, which is aided by

the wide accessibility of images and footage of them circulated on the

internet. Herren suggests that memory mixes up the past and present

images that we carry to a point where images from different sources

become indistinguishable and ‘pass for perception’.[12] Although the

media followed Devlin and DeLorean almost constantly, their stories

were overshadowed by more newsworthy events at the time. As noted,

DeLorean’s period in Belfast coincided with the Republican hunger strikes

in the early 1980s and the much publicized death of Bobby Sands in the

Maze prison. Additionally, the DMC’s closure in 1982 was secondary

to coverage of the Pope’s visit to Britain and the Falklands War. The

DeLorean Motor Company’s only firm link to cultural memory is the use

of the DMC-12 in the Back to the Future franchise. Turning to Devlin,

it seems that she features more in online resources than she does in

historical texts about the Troubles, even though she played a key role

during the emergence of civil conflict in 1968. In their weaving back and

forth from presence to absence in cultural memory, the personae of

Bernadette Devlin and John DeLorean become notional. They are ghostly

traces of versions of the past that struggle to be remembered, and when

they are, the memory is selective and almost always mediated. They are

there but not really there.

8

[LEVITATION]

[A QUIET MOMENT]

[SOO DUH KOO]

[WORD SEARCH]

[CRAZY MAZE]

[CROSSWORD]

To solve SOO DUH KOO, use the phonemes:

PES, FUL, NES, SAW, LIT, OOD, PRY, VEH, SEE.

Each phoneme must appear in each of the nine vertical

columns, horizontal rows adn 3x3 boxes.

Find these sounds: bang, eek, gallop, gasp, grind, hum, hump, ignite, mew, nip, pap, pee, pop, rap, ramble, rumble, sob, squeal, tap, tin, wallop

Can you find your way out from inside?

Across

4. Can I come in? (5)

5. Drink energetically (5)

7. A party beat next door (4)

8. Destroy a page (4)

9. Collision with furniture (4)

10. Whispered, “Rosebud” (4)

11. Escaping air (4)

Down

1. A visitor’s arrival (4,4)

2. Passing seconds (4,4)

3. Bulky boots upstairs (5)

5. Draining sink (6)

6. Quick draw curtains (6)

Last week’s answers - Across: 1. Trickle, 3. Click,5. Slap, 6. Whoosh, 9. Squelch; Down: 2. Snip, 3. Clap,4.Gnarl, 6. Scratch, 7. Blow, 8. Hum, 9. Squeek.

10