Facing the challenge of a day-long art attack in Kilkenny

There are 10 exhibitions in the official Kilkenny Arts Festival programme and another 28-plus shows making up the fringe. The challenge is to see how many of these can be viewed during the course of one day without nervous collapse. The biggest threat to progress will be the oppressively clammy heat, while the greatest spur will be the opportunity to discover the work of an artist whose merits have not hitherto been sufficiently appreciated.

First visit of my morning is to a factory on the outskirts of Kilkenny where Mexican artist Francisco Toledo has a show of prints dealing with such fundamental themes as life, death and the place in society of grasshoppers (the last clearly something of a preoccupation for Toledo).

In an adjoining space Scottish artist David Mach offers three substantial installations, one of them being four 8 metre-high columns made from more than 250,000 newspapers: a quick scan of the papers reveals none of them are copies of the super soaraway sell-out Irish Times. Mach's other two pieces are a room filled with consumer durables suspended from animal heads hung on the walls, and a larger-than-life male bust made entirely from wire coat-hangers. The latter prompts recollections of the scene in Mommie Dearest where Joan Crawford (played to perfection by Faye Dunaway), beats her daughter Christina for daring to use one of these hangers in her wardrobe; what might she have done to David Mach?

Into Kilkenny and German jeweller Rudolf Heltzel's gallery on Patrick Street where Karin Muhlert (born in Sweden, living in Scotland), has a show of her delectable sculptures made from paper but looking as though they were seashells or mushrooms waiting to be chopped and fried. This thought indicates that it is time to pause for lunch. That task accomplished, the gates of Kilkenny Castle beckon. Here the organisers have planned to serve champagne, but unfortunately the tray carrying drinks is dropped. Is this indicative of a want of artistry? Not necessarily. After all, a member of staff emerges with tray and then allows this to fall: performance art. Same member of staff looks furious with what has happened: expression(ist) art. Mess of drink and glass is left on the ground: conceptual art. Curiously, the only person who, with all the finesse of a trapeze artist, manages to grab a glass before the accident occurred is the Irish Times's photographer.

At the 18th century gateway, Spaniard Saturio Alonso and Englishman Del Whitticase have each been assigned a niche in which they have erected a piece of sculpture. Called Instrumental, that of Whitticase has three harp strings which will play music if there is wind to stir their accompanying metal discs. Naturally, the air is entirely still. Regrettably, this is also true of the air inside the Butler Gallery, where a huge crowd has gathered to swelter during the opening of Tony Cragg's exhibition of sculpture and graphic work.

Escape into slightly fresher air before pressing on to the School of Music, which is hosting an exhibition of work by young designers. At the entrance of the building stands the mayor, Paul Cuddihy, in a fetching combination of shirtsleeves and official chain. Asked about the disputed status of Kilkenny, he tersely comments: "Governments may come and go, but cities remain." Upstairs in the show, the effervescent Mexican ambassador Daniel Dultzin greets menswear designer Pat McCarthy, of whose clothes he is a big fan and who now lives near Thomastown.

Struggle through the crowds thronging what is now unquestionably a city to reach the offices of Kilkenny County Council. Here American-born Suzanna Crampton (a granddaughter of the late Hubert Butler) is showing exquisite photographs of animals. Presumably not all these pictures were taken locally, unless giraffes and gorillas have taken to roaming the area - the weather is certainly now hot enough for them to feel completely at home.

Back to Butler House in time for the opening of Helena Gorey's exhibition of abstract paintings. Here the speech made by Vincent O'Shea, of Theatre Unlimited, is upstaged by rival sounds coming from his eight-month old son. By this stage of the afternoon, the most popular drink is water, and the exhibition room has a slightly subdued quality as guests subside and wilt in corners.

But before total collapse is permitted, a last show has to be seen, this one at the Grennan Mill in Thomastown. Three floors have been given over to Trevor Edmands, an English artist admired by Hughie O'Donoghue, who lives nearby. At the end of the day, the total is eight shows in seven hours (including a break for lunch). Not too bad, but that still leaves another 30 exhibitions to be covered next weekend. Phew!