Get ready for an eyeful of satisfaction, set designers, or the generally design-inclined.

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Started by Dan Ohlmann, a cinema set designer and ‘miniaturist artist’ (loose translation from the brochure, and perhaps a word that doesn’t exist in English), the first five floors of this narrow, historic building are given over to a collection of creatures, props, costumes, sets and prosthetics from various films, as well as explanatory videos about how they are built.

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A horror/sci-fi nerd’s paradise. The whole basement and first floor are given over to fully reconstructed sets from the 2006 film Perfume – The Story of a Murderer, based on the novel by Patrick Süskind.

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And the there was the monkey head. As a childhood Indiana Jones fanatic (and former aspiring archaeologist, in that order) it gave me a bit of a kick to see nine-year-old-Sian’s morbid obsessions in the flesh.

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(Someone had to break it to nine-and-a-half-year-old-Sian that archaeology was basically all moving mud and staring at smashed ceramics. The dream died).

Anyway, all of his cinematic whimsy brings us from the basement to the top two floors, where the miniatures live…

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Ohlmann was encouraged by friends to document his sets and creations in these model boxes, which is how the extensive practice of making, and collecting, über satisfying teeny dream worlds began.

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It’s hard to show how small and exceptionally detailed these models are in the photos. Some of them are a little bigger than a shoebox, with the Dino Museum one being still less than a metre squared.* I tried holding out my thumb for scale, but my hand just looked monstrous and clumsily-designed by comparison.

Finally, the Puppetry Museum, down the road…

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Again, the pictures don’t capture the finest aspect of this museum, which is it’s impeccable curation and interactivity. One example: there is a room given over to object manipulation, where videos of three leading French puppeteers demonstrate how to animate simple objects into characters.

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I studied at CSSD years ago, the only university in the UK (maybe Europe? I can’t remember) with a three year, full time BA Puppetry degree. We worked closely with students on that programme, and so spent many extraordinarily fun workshops animating objects and watching cutting edge puppet theatre, an experience that is hard to explain to the Gen Pop, who think puppetry is essentially a creepy relic of old European fair grounds (and why wouldn’t they?)

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Actually, puppetry one of the most visually and physically exciting forms of contemporary theatre. My favourite ever theatre show is an object theater piece, from France. The museum was incredibly interactive in its manner of bringing both this, and the ancient and global origins of object theatre, to the fore.

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My TED talk on puppets is over, as is the Lyon section. Now, it’s time for some autumn sun.

Next stop? Montpellier and Marseilles!

S x

* I think?!? Can anyone really know an objects size from looking? I, for one,  regularly miscalculate and ricochet off door frames when walking into rooms.

Lyon came highly recommended by two friends – the previously mentioned David of CCI / Versailles fame, and my pal Urszula (who you might know as The Hidden Bloom on insta).

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Unfortunately, my three nights in the city felt more like a rushed day and a half, as I started to show head cold / covid symptoms on the train from Strasbourg. I got a rapid antigen test straight off the train, but as I became snottier and coughier by degrees, I then went and got the full PCR test. So I lost a day and a bit to staring at the walls in my (very cheap and very gross) hotel, isolating before the negative result. To quote French cultural icons B*witched… c’est la vie.

Getting sick in Lyon was a damn shame because, a chairde, it was absolutely banging. I loved it.

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I don’t often post pictures of food, but this fish soufflé in a lobster sauce was pure sorcery. It left me speaking in tongues and solving the Riemann Hypothesis. Then came dessert, an exquisite Île Flottante, which un-flattened my feet and enticed me to leave my wife (my wife being the main course).

Lyon is the gastronomic capital of France, famous for its tiny, cosy bouchon restaurants, so named after the tradition of wiping down your sweaty horse with a bundle of hay (fact check that, it’s true).

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The Old Town is beautiful, if a rather steep climb for the infirm, amongst whom I count myself (the head cold and the mystery chronic hip pain). I couldn’t get a picture inside the Cathedral as I walked in during Mass (awkward, but not the worst thing that happened to the congregation this week) but above is a picture of the Fourviere vista and the *cable car* that brings you there.

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And the Lugdunum Roman Museum down the road. Apparently, the amphitheatre held 10,000 audience members, with a smaller theatre beside it for music and poetry with a capacity of 3,000. Its Peacock, to the Abbey mainstage. Also, Lugdunum was named after Lugus, who is basically a post-Celtic Lugh.

I took a river cruise, which was quaint, and afforded some lovely views of Île Barbe.

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A must see, though an understandably harrowing experience, is the Resistance and Deportation Museum. Lyon was the Resistance Capital during Nazi occupation, and the museum is housed in the former Gestapo headquarters (take that, you fascist shitbags).

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I haven’t included many photos, as I spent most of my time in the documentary screening of the trial of Klaus Barbie, the Butcher of Lyon. After escaping to Bolivia in the years after World War 2, and then being discovered in the 80’s and extradited to France, he was put on trial for Crimes Against Humanity in 1987. The testamony of his surviving victims is powerful, awful stuff. Watching grandmothers and grandfathers, some of whom were permanently disabled from their torture, take the stand and face the impassive, antogonisingly silent man who subjected them to humiliating violence… it added an extra dose of snot and weep to my already melting face. Don’t miss it, and don’t forget it once you leave.

But we won’t give Klaus Barbie the last word on Lyon. I’ll shortly be posting a blog on the Cinema and Minitures Museum, and the Puppetry Museum. Two exquisite little museums, that require a post of their own.

Next stop? Montpellier!

S x

Mini-rant first. Going to the theatre in France is never easy. Granted, it would be easier if I spoke French, but I place the blame for what has happened purely on the shoulders of others because that’s what a good Sagittarius does.*

It happened to a pal in Paris first. He booked a ticket to see a show in a famous theatre, with a big old fancy building, and he turned up to find the show was, in fact, not on there at all. He re-read his ticket and there, at the bottom, upside down, semi-transparent and in cuneiform, is the name of the alternate venue. Lo and behold, the show is happening fifteen to twenty minutes away, and it’s time to hop on a bike.

Next, it happened to me in Nancy. The Opera house is VERY FAMOUSLY on Place Stanislas. Alas, I end up running through the streets with moments to spare to reach Salle Poirel – ‘salle’ meaning room, and not ‘un tout autre bâtiment’. Silly me for not knowing both the layout of the Opera De Lorraine, or every salle in city.

Bear in mind that, like any sensible traveller, I’m booking tickets online – you gotta plan those short city breaks in advance. I realise now that the capricious nature of the French theatre makes this a bad plan. You need to walk in to a physical box office, look the middle aged saleswoman dead in the eye, and buy your ticket in person, so she can tattoo venue directions into the skin of your forearm.

Anyway, all this is to say I bought tickets for the Strasbourg Opera on Saturday and turned up to find the show was on in another city in Alsace, which made loads of sense.** And thank god I resisted the urge to book a theatre show in Lyon for Wednesday, because it was cancelled by the time I arrived in the city, today. Why? Because they’re probably all Geminis.*

Theatre aside, Strasbourg really a cutesy little Germanic pêche of a city. Check out these adorable buildings (all of which are probably showing operas from the regional theatres of Dunkirk and Nîmes)

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And of course the Alsacian Museum, which raised the bar on rustic, romantic interiors. Try and beat THAT, Marseilles. Ya can’t.

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Next stop? Lyon!

S x

* I don’t understand horoscopes and have no idea if this is true.

** It made no sense.

Today’s all about the art, plants and art about plants, so hold on to your chausettes. A visual bombardment is coming your way.

First, the Musée des Beaux Arts De Nancy. Small, excellently curated, and full of STRONG WOMEN.

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After all those definitely-dead Old-Timey painters whose names I forgot to take down, here are some artists that are hopefully alive as of 3rd October 2021, whom I will therefore credit…

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Then there was the Botanical Gardens, which were, in a word, wholesome.

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Then it was the Musée de l’École de Nancy and the Villa Majorelle, the former Art Nouveau homes of Eugène Corbin and Louis Majorelle respectively, and staggeringly beautiful examples of the architecture, design and art work of the movement.

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You can really make an Art Nouveau pig of yourself in Nancy, I’ll give it that.

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And finally – the Opera De Lorainne in the Salle Poirel. Full disclosure – I’m not low key bragging about being an Opera goer, I’ve actually never been to one in my life. It was a concert – Debussy, Karłowicz, Sibelius and Strauss – and the fact that I was there at all says something profound about Nancy’s evening entertainment. Still, it was really great, and David would be proud. And to bring the theme back to STRONG WOMEN, check out that conductor.

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Next stop? Strasbourg, ma cherie!

S x

That’s how you know I’m a writer – I take big literary swings, like that title.

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Would you look at the ACTUAL STATE of how fancy Nancy is though. It’s got gates. It’s got gilding, everywhere, and it’s own signature quiche.

Nancy will be a two-part post only because I thought that the installation in Place Stanislas deserved it’s own attention. You’d usually head to Place Stanislas to see the Hôtel de Ville / Opera House / bougie cafés etc… but lo and behold, it is currently home to something many times more interesting than local government, opera and pastry (and I don’t say that lightly).

An incredible ecological art installation…

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Shaped like a giant drop of water, this ‘ephemeral garden’ is just 2021’s offering in what is a yearly tradition of pop-up gardens in Place Stanislas from late September to November. Expect trees, flowers, wooden bowers and shelters, multimedia installations, photography, chairs and benches to chill on… I mean, it’s just a super cosy, charming use of civic space.

This years theme is water, which you can probably tell from the pictures. I also feel duty bound to pass on the tourist board message that the Jardin Ephémère is ‘built from a sustainable perspective using recycled materials and plants which will go on to be used in other green spaces‘ and also that it’s ‘a fine tribute to Nancy’s botanical traditions that so inspired the artists of the Ecole de Nancy.‘

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It is a source of such unspeakable joy to me that this fabulous event is organised by the city’s Parks and Gardens department. Obviously great local government exists outside of Pawnee, Indiana.

Anyway, learning about this pop-up garden tradition really made my day. Having said that, if the recurrent question being posed as I travel from place to place is – ‘Could I live here, longer term?‘ then the Nancy answer is Heck. No. I’m just not built for this kind of quiet, dignified life. If you’re someone like me, Nancy is very much a visiting city.

Still – I’m on a visit, amn’t I?*

Next stop? Strasbourg!

S x

*Amn’t is a word in Dublin. Be culturally sensitive.

I’ve started my French trip in the Centre Culturel Irlandais again, with my great pal, Irish composer David Coonan. Anyway, we found ourselves eating brioche in the courtyard one morning and considering one of the great questions of our time. What happens when the obscenely, grotesquely rich hanker for a simpler life? 

They build a sanitised, replica rustic village on the grounds of their palace, and then they role-play life as a normaller, of course! At least that’s what Marie Antoinette did in the grounds of Versailles, a gaff so nauseatingly extravagant you’ll need to juice cleanse after visiting to set you right.*

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(For accuracy’s sake, the Oxford Dictionary defines a ‘normaller’ as a person of modest means, who keeps chickens, tends crops, and doesn’t use the national exchequer to cosplay serfdom or bend reality to their will).

Versailles, the French word for ‘extra ‘, is quite a good day out even for a socialist , if you can set aside the horrific implications of hoarded wealth and just get into the themed rooms, mirrors, and marked-up macaroons. Which I can, and did.

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I did nothing of grand cultural significance in Paris, other than chat long into the night with friends, so here’s some more shots of me being a tourist. (I ordered duck, if you’re wondering.)

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On a more artistic note, the time in CCI was, as usual, incredibly inspiring and kitted out with super cool people – writer and journalist Una Mullally, film-maker Paul Rowley, actor and novelist Karl Geary, animator Tomm Moore and the incredible Irish actor and writer Shane O’Reilly. Being the most illustrious of the lot, I was neither intimidated nor star-struck, and was as comfortable cosplaying someone with an equally successful career amongst my new pals as Marie-Antoinette was in her model village.

Next stop? Nancy, baby!

S x

*I never juice cleanse, and you shouldn’t either.

Hello there, a chairde.

It’s been a while. Pandemic, innit?

Like many of you, I’ve been somewhat grounded recently, though you’d never know from this website. Having travelled to Paris in August 2020, I promptly stopped updating my ‘Current Status’ page, giving the impression I’ve been swanning around the 5th Arrondissement ever since.

Really, I’ve been in Dublin, working away, watching Star Trek, and brushing up on my Irish. And pressing forward into new and exciting areas, despite no digital signs of life (pandemic, innit?)

The news on the street is – and I deeply hate this word, but needs must – I’ve pivoted. Quite a large pivot, actually. Since March 2020, I’ve gone from working as primarily a playwright, to working primarily a screenwriter. And things have taken off, in no small part because of the wonderful Jean Kitson at Kitson Press Associates who I signed with last June. She scooped me up after my first TV writing credit with Ink and Light and the rest, as they say, is puns and high-brow poo jokes*.

This change of focus has been very practical, given how animation is thriving and theatre is, well, rather strangled and spooky at the moment thanks to Covid. But it was also a very personal decision. We won’t go into it over-much, but I will say this – I now get to write full time, and I get to write comedy, and I get paid a decent wage, and I feel five years younger, and the future is bright. This is a standard of living that Irish theatre simply *cannot offer* anyone but Marina Carr (minus the comedy bit – she’s a very serious, very beautiful, real-life witch from Offaly). Also, animation writers, it seems, are made less miserable by there profession than theatre-makers. Go figure.

And there are more changes on the way, too! Within Super Paua (and we’ll be announcing a changing of the guard very soon!) but also in regards to where I call home for the foreseeable. I’ve decided to head to France for a bit, and see how much of the next two to three years I’d like to spend there. Sadly, it looks like I’m not getting out to New Zealand any time soon, and have a dúil to wander a bit on the European mainland. Because… why wouldn’t I?

Keep an eye on the blog for news from the road!

It’s good to be back.

S x

*The poo jokes are also low brow

This weeks episode of Super Paua Stories podcast (and the second last one of the first season!) features an original story by Dublin theatre-maker, spoken-word poet and knitter of epic balaclavas – Lewis Kenny!

Lewis’s story – Duisíonn na hIoraí Rua – is a fable about invasion, rebellion and acorns (naturally) which explores the forest politics of two warring bands of squirrels.

Read by Super Paua collaborator and actor Graeme Coughlan and directed by Mark Ball, Duisíonn na hIoraí Rua is the post-colonial rodent adventure that we didn’t realise we’d been waiting for.

Beir bua, comrades!

S x

Have you heard of the 0/1 Knapsack Problem? Or the story behind ‘Newroz’ – the Kurdish and Persian new year? Have you ever wondered what you’d pack in your bag if the world was ending and you had to run away?

I’ve been working on a show about all of the above things, and more, in response to the Covid era, and on behalf of my company Super Paua. We’ll be taking part in Prototype at The Festival of Curiosity, next weekend on Saturday 18th July. It’s very exciting, I am not entirely sure what it’s going to be yet, but I know it’s going to involve packing and the apocalypse, and loads of spooky storytelling fun. Come join!

Follow the link to sign up!

S x

Beidh mise agus mo chara Ursula (comh-stiúthóir de Bombinate Theatre agus bainisteoir Gaelach de Scéalta Super Paua Sraith 2) ag déanamh ceardlann scríbhneoireachta saor in aisce Dé Máirt 14ú Iúil! Dírithe ar daoine 16 bliain d’aois is sine, roinnfimid comhairle, leideanna agus ciall praiticiúil libh i nGaeilge agus i mBéarla a bhainneann le meáin do dhaoine óga. Fáilte romhaibh go léir!

Chun pairt a glacadh sa cheardlann, cliceáil ar an nasc seo!

Myself and Ursula (co-director of Bombinate Theatre and Irish-language manager of Super Paua Stories Season 2) will be offering a free writing workshop on Tuesday 14th July! Aimed at anyone over 16 years of age and older, we will be sharing advice, tips and practical knowledge relating to children’s media in Irish and in English. All are welcome!

To take part in the workshop, click on this link to register!

S x