ArtRoger Store

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I intend to add occasionally a painting (or print) that I love personally. I start with Bloomsday re-enacted to remember the first recorded re-enactment in part by well known people around Dublin at the time. https://twitter.com/ArtRoger artrogersstore.blogspot.com/2018/05/finear tamerica.html   … 1954 1st re-enactment of Bloomsday in Dublin by five guys - Patrick Kavanagh, John Ryan, Brian (Nolan) O'Nulain, Anthony Cronin and a dentist named Joyce on Sandymount strand.

Are We All Joyceans Here, Then?    (Yes, we are now!) By Frankie Thomas June 14, 2018 Arts & Culture from The Paris Review. Detail from the Penguin Modern Classics cover of Ulysses . “Are we all Joyceans here, then?” the young professor asked, poking his head into the classroom doorway. We looked back at him uncertainly. Yes, we were all here for the Ulysses seminar that met at six thirty P.M. on Tuesdays and Thursdays. But to call us “Joyceans” seemed like a stretch. Today—Thursday, January 29, 2015—was only the first day. And besides, this was City College. No article about City College is complete without the obligatory phrase “the Harvard of the proletariat,” which was supposedly both our school’s nickname and its reputation in the mid twentieth century. By 2015, however, no one could deny that our beautiful Harlem campus was in decline. Governor Cuomo had recently slashed the budget for the entire CUNY system, with City Colle

First prize Poetry Competition. Under Construction by Roger Cummiskey. Roger with Seamus Heaney at the Bank of Ireland Arts centre Dublin I include below a compilation that I made of the musical and poetic language from A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, by James Joyce. ART ROGER A Painting of a Young Poet: Bury me in the old church-yard The bell! The bell! Farewell! Farewell! O, we got a good breath of ozone round the Head today A thimbleful, just to whet your appetite, they say. In the silence, pick, pack, pock, puck. Blackrock, Stillorgan, Goatstown, Dundrum and Sandyford Carrickmines, Stradbrook, no more battles on the rocks. They would meet quietly as if they had known each other And made their tryst in some more secret place. He would fade into something impalpable Under her eyes and then in a moment he would be transfigured. Christian brothers be damned Newman and Byron The telegraphpoles held the galloping n

Under Construction: A poem celebrating James Joyce. I am genius I am Joyce. A Dubliner of some renown Hated, reviled, admired; Poet and critic. Ten years I had to wait for Dubliners to be published For pittance Because I’m genius Because I’m Joyce. Yes, James Jaysas Joyce. A Portrait helped, Years and years to complete Ulysses The greatest daytime novel of all time. Teaching English as a foreign language In Trieste and Zurich. Patronized by a woman of Faith Though I had none, Harriet Weaver. Sylvia Beach’s Shakespeare in Paris My office And Nora my model, inseparable; Hemingway carried me over his shoulder Drunk, we sang, argued, danced, Played the piano and guitar. Dublin, my town, 1904 my year And 16th June my day; But all wanted to know, in their Ignorance if they featured, And did they what. They suffered for their lack of faith In James Jaysas Joyce Because I’m genius because I’m Joyce. Mine eye