Imram the vessel for 'a voyage of discovery'

This year's Imram Irish Language Literature Festival celebrates the cultural impact of Ireland's islands and maintains its record of creative collaborations

CONTEMPORARY writing in Irish enjoys a small (but perfectly formed) following in this island nation of ours. This year's Imram Irish Language Literature Festival celebrates the role that the islands and seas of Ireland have played in shaping our identity and imagination.

An eclectic mix of novelists, film-makers, poets, puppeteers, musicians and singers will collide in the cross-currents of this year's festival, in what Imram's director, Liam Carson, describes as "a voyage of discovery". One of the defining features of the event is its nurturing of collaborations, some of which are unlikely, others less so.

Those who've lived on or close to the islands off our west and north-west coast will train a lens on the vagaries of island life and attempt to make sense of the Russian doll-like influence of smaller, disparate islands within a larger island nation.

Domhnall Mac Síthigh is a relative newcomer to the world of writing, having had his study of naomhóg building, Fan Inti, published in 2003. A native of Baile Eaglaise, beyond Ballyferriter in west Co Kerry, Mac Síthigh published his first poetry collection, Súil Seilge (The Eye of the Hunter), last year, and with an ear for the rhythms of the language, he accompanied his book with a CD containing his own recitations, accompanied by Breanndán Begley on accordion. Unwilling to be drawn on his age, Mac Síthigh admits to being "over 50", so his writing has been a long time in gestation.

"I started writing about five years ago," he declares, with more than a hint of pride at the recent twist in his biography. "And I never wrote a thing before that - hardly a letter even. I made a naomhóg in an arts centre in Dublin, and I started to keep a diary then, because I was inspired by the work. It's a mix of history and folklore, and my own life is in there too."

Mac Síthigh's progression to poetry seemed the most natural thing in the world, ideas coming tumbling out, fully formed. His writing coincides with a voyage he's taking himself, with Breanndán Begley, following the route of Colmcille to Iona. Last year the pair sailed in a naomhóg from Sligo to Rathlin Island for the first leg of their journey. The lure of the sea is one he relishes.

"I've always been very fond of the islanders," he says. "I was fishing for many years off the Blasket islands, and I knew every rock in Inis Tuaisceart, An Tiaracht and Inish Mhic Aoibhleáin. For me, though, writing is something that just happened. I plan to keep on writing for another 50 years now, though, because I have a great life, you see."

IMRAM'S FOCUS ONwest Kerry this year is striking. It will host a performance of Béal Tuinne, a song suite composed by Shaun Davey, based on Fothar Na Manach, a book of poems by the late Ballydavid teacher and poet, Caoimhín Ó Cinnéide. A swathe of west Kerry musicians and singers will accompany Shaun Davey and Rita Connolly to the Unitarian Church on St Stephen's Green on Sunday night after the All-Ireland football final, where it's likely that tears will be shed - whether of triumph or defeat remains to be determined.

Seamus and Eoin Begley, Lawrence Courtney and Caoimhín Ó Cinnéide's daughter, Éilís, will air this song cycle, which Davey has composed with characteristic sensitivity to its origins. For Éilís Ní Chinnéide, Béal Tuinneis a magical excuse to revisit her father's poetry.

"The first reaction I had was absolute joy that someone like Shaun could actually 'get' the poems," she says, "as someone who didn't have the language first-hand. It's a testament to how good the poetry is and how good a musician Shaun is. My father didn't consider himself a poet first and foremost at all, but he was a keen observer and he had a wonderful way with words. The music gave the poems a shape that I hadn't seen before either. It was like looking at something in relief. The music gave them a different dimension altogether."

Shaun Davey was transfixed by Ó Cinnéide's poetry when it was read to him by Mary and the accordion player and singer, Seamus Begley. Having lived (at least for part of each year) in west Kerry for a number of years now, Davey felt compelled to give something back to the community which had welcomed him so openly.

"Once we had demonstrated to our neighbours that we would be there for a lot of the year," Davey recalls with his customary modesty, "they accepted us as neighbours, and with being neighbours come responsibilities, and a desire to enter into the community. I actually felt that we had to make a musical contribution because they value music so highly in that area."

Davey didn't speak Irish and so wasn't privy to the nuances of the language. It was a barrier he surmounted with spectacular success, despite his own misgivings.

"The language was - and remains - a barrier," he says. "It's very difficult to cross because I find it a very difficult language to learn, but I was propped up on both sides by Mary and Seamus, who sat with me in my house one evening, quietly reading and rereading the poems, talking about them and translating them. I recorded them, and from that I understood the cadences and where the accents fall. The key is to understand where the accents are, because they should end up as musical stresses."

The possibility that Davey has now augmented the traditional song repertoire is one he's unwilling to take too seriously, given the relative youth of his compositions, not to mention the nature of the oral tradition to which he is a relative newcomer.

"I wouldn't presume or set out to write a piece of music with that in mind," he insists. "That would be far too self-conscious, and ultimately it's up to other people as to whether that happens or not. Frankly, that's not my concern. I think, though, that my melodies haven't achieved what the great traditional airs have, which is an air that, within its arc, contains the harmony that would support the tune. My tunes need an accompaniment, whereas traditional airs are often performable without accompaniment."

This exercise in working with local musicians and source material couldn't have been more different from the formal orchestral projects which define Davey's musical identity: The Brendan Voyage, Granuaile, The Pilgrimand The Relief of Derry Suite.The sense of community bolstered him immeasurably, as a musician and composer, he admits. "There's that dreadful feeling of walking the plank as a composer when you have an orchestra of highly skilled musicians sitting down playing it. It isn't necessarily a pleasant experience, whereas, by contrast, the music written for Béal Tuinneis designed to be performed in a truly companionable setting where nobody's under undue pressure. It's easy music to play and it's not too intense."

THE Ó CINNÉIDEconnection at Imram continues with the involvement of Irish-language poet, Dairena Ní Chinnéide (sister of Éilís and daughter of Caoimhín), who will be collaborating with The Gaelic Jazz Project for the second time at Imram this year. Does the act of writing poetry differ when she knows that her words will be accompanied by music?

"I would, by instinct, write a poem that would stand alone anyway," Ní Chinnéide says. "It tends to be quite lyrical, but my background is in traditional music so my inclination in relation to the 'music' of the poem would have more of a traditional buzz. This jazz collaboration is quite different for me, but I really enjoy that chance to space out the words, to deal with different rhythms and create a space around the words that the jazz fuses with really well."

Ní Chinnéide finds that the work of her father, Caoimhín, ignites her own writing.

"His influence was huge, immense," she states unequivocally. "He was an extraordinary man, and you couldn't help but be infected by his love for song. He expressed himself so well in song, and had one for every single occasion. He really enjoyed the fun of putting a situation and a song together and doing it so beautifully. With Shaun Davey's work, he's married the two aspects of dad's life that he loved: poetry and song. Caoimhín's poetry had an incredibly melodic nature to it in Irish, and it lent itself well to composition, and Shaun's talent was to pick up on the nuances of daddy's writing. It's a gift, really."

• Imram festival events begin tomorrow and continue until Sept 30, including poetry readings, film screenings, puppetry and concerts. Details: 01-8329594 or www.poetryireland.ie