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the cabin at road books

If you are a writer or an artist, if you value solitude and have a project you want to work on in a peaceful place, here is a secluded wooden cabin in Inniscarra, County Cork. The cabin is a green roofed building looking onto woodland on one side, garden on the other, with large studio space and kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, well-heated in winter.

Judy Kravis and Peter Morgan have been working for many years on an environmental project on the thirty acres around the farmhouse and cabin, including native woodland, meadow and pond. They keep hens and have a large organic vegetable garden. Artists and writers who come to stay will be expected to engage with this project by helping on the land, in any way they are able, for a few hours a week.

Road Books is a not-for-profit organisation. Our residencies rely on artist fees to operate. The weekly fee of €200, which includes heating, bed linen etc, goes towards the costs of running and maintaining the cabin. You provide your own food. If you don’t have transport, we can arrange trips to shops. You are expected to leave the cabin clean.

Residencies are for one or two weeks. Applications are accepted on a rolling basis. There are some bursaries available, and we are working on developing more.

If you have a project you want to work on, please send a brief outline (up to 250 words), with the dates you’d like to come, and a link to your own website.

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The moment of utmost clarity of the landscape is at once the moment at which individual existence dissolves at its limits and is dreamily transformed into thin air.                                                                                                                              Jean Starobinski

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On a lovely and far-wandering walk a thousand usable and useful thoughts occur to me.                                                                                                                 Robert Walser

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Life is a walk across an open meadow.
Russian proverb

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For many years, my walks have taken me down an old fencerow in a wooded hollow on what was once my grandfather’s farm. A battered galvanized bucket is hanging on a fence post near the head of the hollow, and I never go by it without stopping to look inside. For what is going on in that bucket is the most momentous thing I know, the greatest miracle that I have ever heard of: it is making earth.
                                                                                   Wendell Berry

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...there would be no deceit and no violence, and everywhere peace and satisfaction would reign ‘if only all men would cultivate the fields and provide for themselves by the work of their hands’.
                              W.G. Sebald

I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
      Wallace Stevens

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