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Garrett Phelan has seen some remarkable things It is inconceivable that someone with hearing could imagine what it is to live in sign language, to experience self-awareness in the configurations of hands and the movement of fingers; and likewise impossible to understand how it might be to think in utter silence. Creatures without the same auditory apparatus as ours, for instance snakes, insects or fish, are commonly regarded as deaf. Animals with limited vision, moles and bats, we characterize as blind. The ways animals have evolved to negotiate the world is fascinating. Their strangeness is something that collectively we marvel at, appreciate and also disregard. At the heart of this ability to both take astonishing variety for granted and to wonder at it, is the powerful, intuitive sense of our normality. We may intellectually acknowledge that we are generally bi-pedal, binocular, four-limbed, upright animals with a limited sense of smell and opposable thumbs, and so forth; but we move through the world, mostly taking our specific configuration of sense and physical abilities as a given. When describing the unimaginatively named blind mole rats as blind, it distinguishes them, not just from other mole rats, partially sighted, naked or furred, but also from us. Yet, it seems peculiar to refer to a creature that is without one or another (functioning) sense organs as lacking in that sense. Humans, considered from the perspective of other animals, are terribly deficient. Amongst other things we are tailless, ‘naturally’ flightless, dry-nosed, featherless; we lack pedipalps, dewlaps and cannot lay eggs or jump very high. I was on a plane travelling from North America to Ireland listening to the sound works of artist Garrett Phelan, the accounts of his various extraordinary encounters with birds, when the gravity and the extent of our multiple handicaps dawned on me. At least, I thought, we have mastered the art, the physics, of flying. That is something. There are still people who fear to fly. Even in spite of its relative statistical safety as a mode of transport there are many more who feel their stomach knot during take off, turbulence or landing. Numerous other less remarkable fears plague us. Some are reasonable things to dread (even if unlikely to occur in the near future): fears of debilitating accident, of fatal illness, loss or unsought change. A dismaying question in this vein is if we were to be without sight or hearing, which sense would we sacrifice? It is a talking point that spins around the sense we have of ourselves, our resilience, our capacity to cope, to relate to and endure a newly strange life. A world in which we may still think in colour and light, but will not see it; in which we might know our loved ones voices, but will never again hear them. I lack one faculty commonly found in many animals, Homo sapiens included, that is, a sense of direction. I am not comparing this to the aforementioned blindness or deafness, but having no ability to intuitively locate oneself in even a familiar environment greatly affects the way one can engage with the world. And if describing myself to a bird though chiefly I would be conscious of my regrettable tailless-ness, (there are a lot more birds that are flightless than without a tail), I would have to declare, to this imaginary bird auditor, my profound inability to find my way. My deep-seated fear of getting lost is not reasonable. Given that I do not climb mountains or visit war-zones what terrible consequences beyond inconvenience or delay might befall someone who is somewhat lost? Yet an accidental or unavoidable deviation from a route carefully learned can still be bizarrely stressful; gut and brain conspire to whip up a frenzy of suburban anxiety wherein for the want of a nail a kingdom is forfeited. And so, in the past, in the midst of being lost I tried to stay calm and console myself with the tantalizing possibility that I might see or hear something new or unexpected; perhaps I would think, there might be a story in this. Nowadays, I take out my phone. Scientists have studied the small, reptilian brains of birds’ attempting to uncover what enables them to navigate vast distances, and/or to return to the same small place with unerring precision year in and out. Casting a quick eye at accounts of such research I see that certain key words recur - the Earth’s magnetic field and the positing of birds’ beaks, eyes, the inner ear, etcetera, as the seat of their mysterious power. There is as yet, however, no consensus on how birds find their way. “Other pioneers of flight were focused on the question of power. The Wrights were fascinated by birds, and learned a lot from their study of them. One of Wilbur’s crucial insights was that flying, like cycling, was a question of balance. He saw that bird flight was all about equilibrium: about the bird’s keeping itself in the air with the maximum efficiency and minimum effort.” John Lanchester, London Review of Books, Vol. Flight is arguably the skill that most taxed and stimulated humans to overcome their physical delimitations. We can climb, swim, travel quickly, build and dig. But only very recently, thanks in part to the close study of the class Aves, and extraordinary mechanical ingenuity, have we learnt to fly. The invention of plane travel evidences the attainment of a capacity that for eons seemed unachievable. Reviewing a biography of the Wright Brothers by David McCullough, John Lanchester recounted a peculiar anecdote pertaining to their early career: not one reporter showed up to cover the first publicly staged and afore-advertised demonstration of human flight in a field in Dayton, Ohio. However, a local bee expert witnessed the event and wrote a short piece in his own journal ‘Gleaning Bee Culture’. He forwarded the article to Scientific American. They responded a year later with the remarkable assertion that the flights could not have happened because if such an extraordinary event were to take place a reporter would have been there to bear witness. No intrepid journalist, no event. According to his sound works titled ‘Roding Glowing Woodcock on Reconnaissance’, 2008 and ‘Electro Skylarks’, 2006, Garrett Phelan has seen some remarkable things: woodcocks glowing at dusk with a phosphorescent pale blue light. In another instance, first a lone and then an entire exultation of skylarks flying in an unusual pattern, gathering and generating remarkable electrical effects off the Shelly Banks of Dublin’s Irishtown Nature Reserve. Given that he is not an ornithologist, nor a reporter but an artist, his observations may seem incredible. However as set forth in his narrated records of the events he is usually not alone. At times he addresses a silent companion, at others he has serendipitously encountered passers-by who have also observed these otherwise undocumented phenomenon. At least one witness responded negatively to the strange sight, taking off on a bicycle. Disbelief is often easier to compass mentally than accepting that the familiar world can become in an instant utterly, bewilderingly, fearfully new. We know there are birds that can use tools, and some that can distinguish humans who are a threat from those who are friendly. The implication of Phelan’s ‘THE HIDE SUITE’, 2015, is that birds may be able, or perhaps will be employed (involuntarily or otherwise) to harness their relationship with the magnetic fields of the planet by augmenting their bodies with batteries. This seems, all things considered, somehow reasonable. After all humans have learnt to fly. If, like us, birds could want what they do not easily have the capacity to achieve, what might they wish for? Which of their senses might they aspire to improve? What deficiencies might they perceive in themselves? That is part of the mystery at the heart of Phelan’s recent series of prints. We do not know what, or how, the birds, as a class or as families or as individuals might think. But, again to speculate from the imagined point of view of the bird, humans are map-less, beak and bill-less, featherless, tail-less and incapable of sensing the earth’s magnetic field. But latterly, augmented with a smart phone or satnav there is a GPS safety net into which we repeatedly cast ourselves. “Am I almost there?” What GPS saves us from is not simply getting lost, but the uncertainty of not knowing whether or not we are even travelling in the right direction. I wish we could know if birds can feel unsure. (I suspect, with my human shaped mind, that uncertainty of some kind or another is the condition of being animal.) Part of our human lack of surety primes us to fear other animals. It is not uncommon to find people who have a phobia of birds. To me birds, like spiders, sea cucumbers, or hate-filled Christians, are weird, not necessarily frightening, but truly other. They belong to that category of creature so utterly different as to be un-relatable. The strangeness of birds, as Phelan’s works often intimate, is too broad to fathom or easily describe. Even when domesticated they seem potentially savage. Fierce or placid they have an appearance of purpose that can be unnerving. Their beaks are the shivs, spoons, pliers, hammers, spears and stilettos of the animal kingdom. As Daphne Du Maurier quite rightly registered in her short story ‘The Birds’, if they ever turn on us we do not stand a chance. In Act One of the Tom Stoppard play ‘Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead’ Guildenstern observes: “A man breaking his journey between one place and another at a third place of no name, character, population or significance, sees a unicorn cross his path and disappear. That in itself is startling, but there are precedents for mystical encounters of various kinds, or to be less extreme, a choice of persuasions to put it down to fancy; until--"My God," says a second man, "I must be dreaming, I thought I saw a unicorn." At which point, a dimension is added that makes the experience as alarming as it will ever be. A third witness, you understand, adds no further dimension but only spreads it thinner, and a fourth thinner still, and the more witnesses there are the thinner it gets and the more reasonable it becomes until it is as thin as reality, the name we give to the common experience....” The reality Garrett Phelan presents us with is anything but thin; his ornithological works may be so pioneering that few would give credence to his tales. But something as minor as the absence of journalists does not mean we should doubt the acuity of his senses. The truths that he documents in his works are rich, they are full and feel prescient. When it comes to descriptions of the world too close a correspondence with reality can be profoundly unrevealing; and it can be unrewarding to attend to a story reiterating precisely what we already know. Phelan’s works have a magnitude and scope that is hard to describe. Even when his efforts or investigations peter out or fail to arrive at the anticipated conclusions, such as the events recounted in ‘Hide’, 2007 and ‘A VOODOO FREE PHENOMENON - Film’ 2014, we see an investigatory prowess at work that reveals the sorts of truths that feel real. Love can heal. And forces, physical, sonic, optical, mental and sensual can resonate through space and through time and affect and connect us all. Phelan might see things you would not believe but maybe time will reveal him to be something of a seer. It isn’t second sight at work but a powerful, synthesizing intelligence that perceives the forces of the universe as a stage, an infinitely large stage, where love, instinct, reason and the desire to make sense of it all coalesce to produce our lived experience. A reality wherein we understand that our knowledge of animals, of birds, of historical powers, of electromagnetism, electric effects, radio waves and the power of the human mind to observe, sense and collate is both tremendous and circumscribed. Most crucially of all Phelan shows us a world where our understanding has been subjected to and continues to undergo momentous change. Everything is evolving. Perhaps, if like Phelan, we see the potential in everything to connect, by loving birds, observing them, enriching their habitats, and encouraging them to develop technologies that may see them flourish, we could someday learn that the world is experienced on sensory levels as yet profoundly unfathomable to us. And though we may never experience it, we could discover that it is possible to never feel lost, or to think in air-currents and have an electro-magnetic intellect tuned to the turning of the world. Isabel Nolan, 2016 Download text
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IS IOMAÍ RUD IONTACH ATÁ FEICTHE AG GARRETT PHELAN Ní chreidfí go bhféadfadh duine a bhfuil an éisteacht go maith aige a shamhlú cén chaoi a bhféadfadh duine maireachtáil trí mheán na Teanga Comharthaíochta amháin, cén chaoi a bhféadfadh sé féinfheasacht a chothú gan ach lámha agus méara a ghluaiseacht; agus ní fhéadfaí a thuiscint ach an oiread cén chaoi a bhféadfadh a leithéid de dhuine smaoineamh faoi chiúnas iomlán. Meastar gur bodhar atá créatúir nach bhfuil an gaireas éisteachta céanna acu is atá againne, amhail nathracha, feithidí nó éisc. Ar an gcaoi céanna measaimid gur dall atá ainmhithe a bhfuil lagú radhairc orthu, ar nós caochán agus ialtóg. Tá an tslí ar éabhlóidigh ainmhithe le teacht i dtír iontach suimiúil. Déanaimid uile iontas de cé chomh hait is atá siad, tá meas againn ar an méid sin agus déanaimid neamhaird de, leis. Tá de chumas ionainn talamh slán a dhéanamh den éagsúlacht dhochreidte sin agus iontas a dhéanamh di ag an am céanna, rud atá i gcroílár ár gcumais chun ár normáltacht a bhrath go cumhachtach, go hiomasach. D’fhéadfaí a rá go dtuigimid go hintleachtúil gur ainmhithe déchosacha, déshúileacha, ceathairghéagacha, ingearacha muid, ag a bhfuil cumas boladh teoranta agus ordóg is féidir a chur i gcoinne na méar, agus mar sin de; ach déanaimid ár mbealach tríd an saol agus muid cinnte a bheag nó a mhór faoi na céadfaí agus faoi na cumais fhisiciúla ar leith atá againn. Nuair a dhéanaimid cur síos ar an gcaochfhrancach, ar ainm gan samhlaíocht é gan amhras, ní hamháin go bhfuilimid ag déanamh idirdhealú idir iad agus francaigh eile, bídís nocht nó fionnaitheach nó eile, ach idir iad agus muidne chomh maith. Bíodh sin mar atá, is ait liom an chaoi a ndéanaimid cur síos ar chréatúr nach bhfuil ball céadfach (feidhmiúil) amháin nó ball céadfach eile aige trí thagairt don chéadfa atá in easnamh. Tá daoine iontach gann ar go leor céadfaí ó thaobh ainmhithe eile de. Níl eireaball againn, ní féidir linn eitilt ‘ó nádúr’, tá ár srón tirim, níl cleití againn, níl pailp ná sprochaille againn, agus ní féidir linn uibheacha a bhreith ná léim ró-ard, gan trácht ar go leor nithe eile. Bhí mé ar eitleán ag dul ó Mheiriceá Thuaidh go hÉirinn agus mé ag éisteacht le saothar fuaime de chuid an ealaíontóra Garrett Phelan, ina ndéanann sé cur síos ar éin iontacha atá feicthe aige, nuair a bhuail splanc tuisceana mé faoin oiread sin míchumas atá orainn i ndáiríre. Tá máistreacht faighte againn ar ealaín agus fisic na heitilte, ar mé liom féin. Ní beag é sin ar aon nós. Is ann do dhaoine go fóill a bhfuil eagla orthu roimh an eitilt. In ainneoin gur modh iompair í atá slán sábháilte a bheag nó a mhór ó thaobh staitisticí de, is iomaí duine a thagann snaidhm ar a bputóga agus iad ag éirí in airde, ag dul trí shuaiteacht nó ag tuirlingt. Tá eagla orainn roimh an iliomad rudaí leamha eile. Tá sé réasúnta imní a bheith orainn faoi roinnt acu (fiú más beag seans go dtarlóidh siad go luath): eagla roimh thimpiste dhíblithe, roimh bhreoiteacht mharfach, roimh chaillteanas nó roimh athrú nach rabhamar ag iarraidh fiú amháin. Ceist a chuireann díomá orm ná cén chéadfa a thabharfainn suas dá mba rud é go raibh rogha agam idir radharc na súl agus an éisteacht? Is ábhar plé é a théann go croí an scéil – cén bhraistint atá againn orainn féin? Cé chomh hacmhainneach is a bheimis? An mbeimis in ann dúshláin an tsaoil aistigh nua sin a shárú, dul i dtaithí air agus cur suas leis? Saol lán le solas ina smaoineoimis i ndathanna nach bhféadfaimis a fheiceáil; saol ina mbeadh guth ár ndlúthchairde ar eolas againn cé nach gcloisfimis arís iad. Níl cumas amháin agam atá ag roinnt mhaith ainmhithe, Homo sapiens ina measc – ní mé maith ag déanamh an bhealaigh. Níl mé á chur seo i gcomparáid leis an daille ná leis an mbodhaire thuasluaite ná baol air, ach ní féidir leo siúd nach bhfuil ceann maith treonna orthu, fiú in áiteanna a bhfuil eolas acu orthu cheana, dul i ngleic leis an saol ar an mbealach céanna leo siúd a bhfuil an cumas sin acu. Agus dá mba rud é go raibh mé ag déanamh cur síos orm féin d’éan, agus cé gur maith is eol dom nach bhfuil eireaball agam (tá i bhfad níos mó éan ann nach féidir leo eitilt ná éin nach bhfuil eireaball acu), mo léan, bheadh orm a chur in iúl don éan críonna sin nach féidir liom mo bhealach a dhéanamh ar chor ar bith. Tógaim amach m’fhón póca ar na saolta seo. Tá staidéar déanta ag eolaithe ar an inchinn bheag, reiptíle atá ag éin d’fhonn a fháil amach céard a chuireann ar a gcumas a mbealach a dhéanamh go dtí tíortha i bhfad i gcéin, agus/nó filleadh ar an áit ónar tháinig bliain i ndiaidh bliana gan dul amú. Tar éis dom súil a chaitheamh ar a leithéid de thaighde, feictear dom go dtagann focail áirithe aníos arís is arís eile – réimse maighnéadach an Domhain, mar aon le gob, súile, nó cluas inmheánach an éin, srl. srl. mar fhoinse a gcumais dhraíochtaigh. Níl aon chomhaontú ann go fóill, ámh, ar cén chaoi a ndéanann éin a mbealach. “Other pioneers of flight were focused on the question of power. The Wrights were fascinated by birds, and learned a lot from their study of them. One of Wilbur’s crucial insights was that flying, like cycling, was a question of balance. He saw that bird flight was all about equilibrium: about the bird’s keeping itself in the air with the maximum efficiency and minimum effort.” John Lanchester, London Review of Books, Imleabhar. 13. D’fhéadfá a rá gurb í an eitilt an scil is mó a chuir crua ar dhaoine agus is mó a spreag iad chun a dteorainneacha fisiciúla a shárú. Is féidir linn sléibhte a dhreapadh, snámh san fharraige, taisteal go gasta, rudaí a thógáil agus poill a thochailt. Ach níor fhoghlaimíomar cén chaoi eitilt go dtí le gairid a bhuí le mionstaidéar a dhéanamh ar éan agus intleacht mheicniúil thar na bearta a fhorbairt. I gcás an aerthaistil tá cumas bainte amach againn a ceapadh a bhí dodhéanta leis na cianta. Agus é ag déanamh léirmheas ar bheathaisnéis na nDeartháireacha Wright le David McCullough, d’inis John Lanchester scéal aisteach faoi thús a ngairmréime: ní raibh aon iriseoir i láthair le tuairisc a thabhairt ar an gcéad taispeántas poiblí d’eitilt an duine i bpáirc in Dayton, Ohio. Chonaic saineolaí beachaireachta áitiúil an eachtra ar fad, áfach, agus scríobh sé sliocht ina irisleabhar féin, ‘Gleaning Bee Culture’. Chuir sé an t-alt isteach chuig Scientific American. Thug siad freagra iontach air bliain ina dhiaidh sin nuair a dúirt nár tharla na heitiltí de bharr más rud é gur tharla a leithéid d’ócáid dhochreidte i ndáiríre go mbeadh iriseoir i láthair le fianaise a dhéanamh leo. Níorbh ann d’aon imeacht toisc nach raibh aon iriseoir cróga i láthair, mar dhea. De réir a shaothar fuaime dar teideal ‘Roding Glowing Woodcock on Reconnaissance’, 2008 agus ‘Electro Skylarks’, 2006, is iomaí rud iontach atá feicthe ag Garrett Phelan: creabhair ag breo le solas bánghorm fosfaraíoch agus an lá ag diúltú dá sholas. I gcás eile, chonaic sé aon fhuiseog amháin agus ansin grúpa ollmhór fuiseog a bhí bailithe le chéile ag eitilt i bpatrún neamhghnách, rud a ghin éifeachtaí iontacha leictreacha amach ó Phort na Sliogán in Anaclann Dúlra an Bhaile Ghaelaigh, Baile Átha Cliath. I bhfianaise nach éaneolaí ná iriseoir é, ach ealaíontóir, ní thógfaí ort é mura gcreidfeá na rudaí atá feicthe aige. Ach ní bhíonn sé leis féin i bhformhór na gcásanna, rud atá luaite sna taifid ó ghuth a choinníonn sé ar na heachtraí. Uaireanta labhraíonn sé le comrádaí atá ina thost, uaireanta eile buaileann sé go hámharach le daoine eile atá ag dul thar bráid, a fheiceann na feiniméin chéanna nach bhfuil taifead eile orthu. Ní raibh finné amháin ar a laghad róthógtha lena bhfaca sé agus d’imigh sé leis go sciobtha ar a rothar. Is éasca a rá uaireanta nach gcreideann tú rud éigin ná glacadh leis gur féidir leis an saol a bhfuil cur amach agat air athrú ina shaol mearbhlach, uafásach nua i bhfilleadh boise. Is eol dúinn gurb ann d’éin ar féidir leo uirlisí a úsáid agus gurb ann d’éin eile ar féidir leo idirdhealú a dhéanamh idir daoine is bagairt agus daoine cairdiúla. Is é impleacht ‘SRAITH AN FHOLACHÁIN’, 2015 le Phelan go bhféadfadh sé go mbeadh éin in ann leas a bhaint as an gcaidreamh atá acu le réimsí maighnéadacha an phláinéid trí chadhnraí a chur lena gcorp, nó go bhfostófaí (cibé go neamhdheonach nó ar bhealach eile) chun na gcríoch sin iad. Tríd is tríd, is cosúil go bhfuil an méid sin réasúnta go leor. D’fhoghlaim daoine cén chaoi eitilt i ndeireadh na dála. Dá mba mhian le héin, cosúil linne, rudaí a dhéanamh nach bhfuil ar a gcumas a dhéanamh go héasca, céard a bheidís a iarraidh? Cé na céadfaí atá acu ba mhian leo a fheabhsú? Cé na heaspaí a bhraithfidís orthu féin? Tá na ceisteanna sin ina gcuid den rúndiamhair atá taobh thiar den tsraith priontaí a d’eisigh Phelan le déanaí. Níl a fhios againn céard a smaoineodh na héin ná cén chaoi a smaoineoidís, mar aicme ná mar theaghlaigh ná mar éin aonair. Ach, arís, ní mór dúinn a choinneáil i gcuimhne ó dhearcadh samhalta an éin nach bhfuil léarscáil, gob, cleite ná eireaball ag an duine agus nach bhfuil sé in ann réimse maighnéadach an domhain a bhrath fiú amháin. Le deireanas, áfach, bainimid feidhm as ár bhfóin chliste agus ár satnav agus téimid i muinín GPS. “An bhfuilim beagnach ann?” Ní hamháin go bhfágann GPS nach rachaimid ar strae arís, ach fágann freisin go mbíonn a fhios againn i gcónaí go bhfuilimid ar an mbóthar ceart agus ag dul sa treo ceart. Ba bhreá linn dá mbeadh a fhios againn an mothaíonn éin neamhchinnte in amanna. (Tá barúil agam, le m’intinn mhór dhaonna, go mbíonn gach ainmhí neamhchinnte faoi rudaí áirithe ar bhealach amháin nó ar bhealach eile.) Mar dhaoine, is de bharr nach mbímid go hiomlán cinnte faoi gach uile rud beo go gcaithfimid eagla a bheith orainn roimh ainmhithe eile. Ní rud neamhghnách é teacht ar dhaoine a bhfuil fóibe orthu faoi éin. I mo chás féin, ní hé go gcuireann éin, amhail damháin alla, súmairí cladaigh, nó Críostaithe atá lán d’fhuath, scanradh orm, ach tá siad go hiomlán éagsúil liomsa. Baineann siad leis an gcatagóir sin de chréatúir nach féidir liom a thuiscint de bharr go bhfuil siad chomh difriúil sin. Is deacair a thuiscint nó a mhíniú cé chomh hait is atá éin, rud a thugtar le fios go minic i saothair de chuid Phelan. Fiú nuair atá siad ceansaithe, is cosúil go bhféadfaidís a bheith fiáin fíochmhar go fóill. Beag beann ar cibé acu atá siad fiáin nó socair i ndáiríre, bíonn an chuma sin orthu a chuirfeadh tú ar do mhíshuaimhneas. Is iad a ngob sceana, spúnóga, greamairí, casúir, sleánna agus stílíní ríocht na n-ainmhithe. Mar a dúirt Daphne Du Maurier ina gearrscéal darb ainm ‘The Birds’, ní bheidh seans dá laghad againn má shocraíonn siad ionsaí a dhéanamh orainn. I Mír 1 den dráma ‘Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead’ le Tom Stoppard, deir Guildenstern: “A man breaking his journey between one place and another at a third place of no name, character, population or significance, sees a unicorn cross his path and disappear. That in itself is startling, but there are precedents for mystical encounters of various kinds, or to be less extreme, a choice of persuasions to put it down to fancy; until--"My God," says a second man, "I must be dreaming, I thought I saw a unicorn." At which point, a dimension is added that makes the experience as alarming as it will ever be. A third witness, you understand, adds no further dimension but only spreads it thinner, and a fourth thinner still, and the more witnesses there are the thinner it gets and the more reasonable it becomes until it is as thin as reality, the name we give to the common experience....” Níl an réadúlacht a chuireann Garrett Phelan i láthair dúinn gann ar bhealach ar bith; d’fhéadfadh sé go bhfuil a shaothair éaneolaíochta chomh ceannródaíoch sin nach dtabharfadh mórán daoine creidiúint dá scéalta. Ach níor chóir dúinn amhras a bheith orainn faoi ghéire a chéadfaí de bharr nach raibh iriseoirí i láthair. Bíonn na fírinní a thaifeadann sé ina chuid saothar saibhir, iomlán agus fadradharcach. Ní thugann cur síos ar an saol atá róghar don fhírinne aon eolas dúinn i ndáiríe agus ní fiú faic scéal a léamh ina n-athinsítear scéal atá ar láneolas againn cheana féin. Tá méid agus raon ag baint le saothair Phelan atá deacair a mhíniú. Fiú nuair nach n-éiríonn lena n-iarrachtaí ná lena imscrúduithe na torthaí a raibh sé ag súil leo a bhaint amach, ar nós na n-eachtraí a ndéantar cur síos orthu in ‘Hide’, 2007 agus in ‘A VOODOO FREE PHENOMENON - Scannán’ 2014, léiríonn sé na scileanna imscrúdaithe thar na bearta atá aige agus tagann fírinní de shaghas éigin chun cinn dá bhrí sin. Is féidir leis an ngrá tú a chneasú. Is féidir le fórsaí, bídís fisiciúil, sonach, optúil, meabhrach nó céadfach, teacht tríd an spás agus tríd an am, agus ar an gcaoi sin, dul i bhfeidhm orainn ar fad agus muid uile a cheangal le chéile. B’fhéidir go bhfeiceann Phelan rudaí nach gcreideann tú ach b’fhéidir go n-inseoidh an aimsir gurbh shaoi de chineál éigin é. Ní hé an fios atá i gceist anseo ach intleacht chumhachtach, shintéisithe a aithníonn fórsaí na cruinne mar ardán – ardán dochreidte mór – áit a dtagann grá, nádúr, fáth agus an fonn le ciall a bhaint as an rud ar fad le chéile mar eispéireas an tsaoil. Is áit í a dtuigimid gur idir iontach agus theoranta atá an t-eolas atá againn ar ainmhithe, ar éin, ar chumhachtaí stairiúla, ar an leictreamaighnéadas, ar éifeachtaí leictreacha, ar radathonnta, agus ar chumhacht na hintinne daonna le breathnú, le brath agus le comhthiomsú. Thar aon ní eile, léiríonn Phelan saol dúinn ina bhfuil ár dtuiscint athraithe ó bhonn agus ina leanann an tuiscint sin ag athrú de shíor. Tá gach rud ag éabhlóidiú. B’fhéidir dá n-éireodh linn, amhail Phelan, a thuiscint go bhfuil de chumas i ngach rud nascadh le chéile, trí ghrá a léiriú d’éin, trí bhreathnú orthu, trína ngnáthóga a shaibhriú agus trí theicneolaíochtaí a fhorbairt ionas go dtiocfadh rath orthu, bheimis in ann a fhoghlaim go bhfuil leibhéil éagsúla chéadfacha i gceist leis an saol, ar leibhéil iad nach féidir linn a thuiscint ar chor a bith ag an am seo. Cé go bhféadfadh sé nach bhfeicfimis féin é, d’fhéadfaimis a fháil amach cén chaoi a mothaíonn sé gan a bheith ar strae choíche, smaoineamh i dtéarmaí sruthanna aeir agus intleacht leictreamaighnéadach a bheith againn atá tiúnta le casadh an domhain. Isabel Nolan, 2016 Íoslódáil an téacs