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A closer look at Dundrum Inner-city resident Leopold Bloom, the hero of James Joyce’s Ulysses, dreams of moving out to leafy suburbia. He has his eye on Dundrum, south of the city, where he imagines living in a bungalow called “Flowerville” or perhaps “Bloom Cottage”. Over a century later, Dundrum is still an attractive place to live. Introducing Dundrum shopping centre If you’re coming from the city by road, the first sign of Dundrum is its magnificent bridge, which carries the Luas tram line over the busy Taney Road junction. It is named after

Montpelier Hill, better known as The Hell Fire Club to Dubliners, is a lovely place for a weekend walk. It has a variety of short forest trails and provides wonderful views of the city from the south-west. On the weekends you can find it busy with urbanites escaping the city and dogs running free. At the top sits a large hunting lodge where, if the stories are to be believed, some very strange things have happened. Originally there was a passage grave with a cairn at the top of the hill. Speaker Conolly, one of the wealthiest men in Ireland, built the hunting lodge on its site. Conolly is said to have destroyed the cairn while building the lodge, using a standing stone as the lintel of the fireplace.

Perhaps you seek refuge from the clamour of the city? Then head away from Stephen’s Green. Walk up Harcourt Street. Take a left. And approach the gates at the end of Clonmel Street. Enter. And breathe. Around you are green lawns. Trees, Fountains. Statues. A rose garden. A maze. A grotto. An elegant promenade. And, crucial to our purpose here, not very many people. Indeed, mid-afternoon of an autumn’s day you may very well have the place to yourself. The place is Iveagh Gardens. It’s a Victorian park. So is Stephen’s Green, of course. But the difference in the atmosphere is pronounced – a direct result of its history.

Meet the people behind Anu Productions Louise Lowe and Owen Boss have worked together for almost 20 years. And many of those years have been spent at their co-founded venture – Anu Productions. Louise Lowe is a theatremaker, while Owen Boss is a visual artist. And, together, they have created a company that takes an interdisciplinary approach to dramatic performances. Combining their skills, they create unique works and experiences. To find out more, Dublin.ie’s Derek O’Connor sat down with them to discuss their work and how it’s shaped by the city of Dublin. Combining visual arts and theatre One of the main goals of Anu Productio

Our Dublin Photo Diary series continues with the remaining eight portraits of photographer Shay Hunston’s People Of Temple Bar project. Earlier this year, I began a project to photograph and document, street by street, the independent retailers in Temple Bar, one of the oldest parts of Dublin. As each street was completed an exhibition of the photographs was staged in the shop windows. A collage of the photographs was also displayed on each street. The project helps to create a greater awareness and promote the businesses and streets in the area. I started the project at the quieter, Christ Church end of Temple Bar, many of these cobbled and terraced streets such as

As part of our ongoing Dublin Photo Diary series, we showcase the best of Dublin based Photographers. This week we feature the work of Aidan Kelly. Having worked for such clients such as Mercury Prize nominee Gemma Hayes, Gavin Friday, Ruby works records, Brown Thomas, Jameson Irish Whiskey, U2, Sony, Rodrigo y Gabriella, Choice Cuts music with Candi Staton, Axis Ballymun for the Irish Arts Council, Hypnotic Brass Ensemble, Channel 4 UK with renowned playwright Martin MacDonagh, Oscar winning Fantastic Films, Ireland and many others, Aidan has certainly built a formidable reputation in the industry.

Being in The Dubliners always made you feel like a bit of an ambassador for the city. I mean we were all instantly recognisable, and I think people felt at one with us. There’s a nice feeling of unity about being a Dub. And Dubliners in general never made any great fuss of their own sons and daughters who became well known (laughs). When The Dubliners celebrated their 50th anniversary in 2012, I had been with the band for 48 of those 50 years. I served an apprenticeship as an electrician in the ESB, and worked there as a draftsman for a few years. But the music was always a hobby, and at a certain point I had to give it up and join the lads. It was precarious in the early days, but there was always a great sense of adventure about the whole thing. We were doing it for the craic as much as anything else, and gradually it became a living. I think anybody who can extend their hobby to the extent that it becomes their livelihood, that’s a real privilege. Especially anyone who’s making music.

I’m from Clondalkin, and I’ve recently set up a support group for people who are bereaved by suicide, having lost my own son Daniel to suicide in 2014. It’s been running for a couple of months now. There are no support groups out there specifically for parents, so I set up my own one. We have eight people in the group, and we meet up every two weeks locally, in a house connected to St Ronan’s Church

For the first in our Dublin Photo Diary series, we asked photographer Shay Hunston to talk about his People Of Temple Bar project. We’ve featured eight portraits in Part 1 with the remaining eight to be featured next week: Earlier this year, I began a project to photograph and document, street by street, the independent retailers in Temple Bar, one of the oldest parts of Dublin. As each street was completed an exhibition of the photographs was staged in the shop windows.

In my dream, the Blessington Street Basin fills with the Liffey’s stout-­bottle waters, but still the swimmers come, in droves, on the stray sovereign of an Irish summer’s day. The river courses through the city, turning concrete roadways to canal banks that shrug their shoulders into dark water; a man rises, seal­-like, in his caul of silt, to wave. At the sluice gate, where the river bends out of sight between toppling buildings, a black dog jumps, again and again, into the water. And there, at the edge of vision, my parents, ready to join the swimmers, gesture their cheerful farewells.

Whatever a CV says, we are born in rooms and grow up in houses. Cities come later, long after streets and shops and villages and churches and a signal box at the level-crossing on Sydney Parade where an elderly man with enormous ears, who is almost deaf from fifty years spent switching points on the coastal track, gives you a Victorian penny to insert in the slot of a thing never seen before in the whole wide world: a vending machine that sells British bubblegum called Zapper to twelve year-old schoolboys who wear short grey trousers in mid-February.