A & E

Since the signing of the Belfast Agreement in 1998, many of Northern Ireland's major paramilitary campaigns have been on ceasefire or their leaders have declared their war to be over. But even today, the institutions that sprung from the accord have failed to bridge Northern Ireland's deep sectarian divide.

Case in point: 37 "peace walls" separate communities in and around Belfast, 18 more than in 1998. Hence, two-thirds of the population lives in segregated areas -- Protestants with Protestants, Catholics with Catholics.

To the outside world, the car bombings and Molotov cocktails of yesteryear seem to be a distant memory. In fact, many peace walls, filled as they are with vibrant murals and graffiti that encourage peace, are now tourist attractions.

Gone is the devastating violence that once shook Northern Ireland to its core, but for most who live there, the memory will never die.

That's something to keep in mind when viewing "Tides," an exhibition of new works by nine artists from Northern Ireland that fills all three floors of Carnegie Mellon's Regina Gouger Miller Gallery.

"These artists address a variety of subjects, in many different mediums, to explain the range of issues still permeating Northern Ireland -- and also what it might mean to be an artist in a place undergoing political transition," says Hilary Robinson, the Stanley and Marcia Gumberg Dean of the College of Fine Arts.

Setting the tone of the exhibition is the video installation "Something You May Later Rely On" by Sandra Johnston. The only piece on the first floor, it's the first work visitors will come upon.

One might become lulled by watching young children play in and around the streets and parks of Belfast on two large video screens suspended in one half of the gallery. But more than likely, the viewer will be overcome by the audio portion of the video in which a woman talks about lives lost, especially her two young children killed by a car bomb in 1976.

On the second floor, the somber tone continues. Peter Richards' massive five-part pinhole photograph "Take too, little action," with its ghostlike figures staring back at the viewer, serves as a haunting backdrop to Michael Hogg's installation piece "Pivot," in which a stack of political posters is propped just out of reach, on top of a ladder.

But, as stunning as these works are, underscored here by their dominant placement in the center of the gallery, most will likely be drawn to the far right side of the space, where the distant sounds of Irish drinking songs and Christmas carols can be heard behind a large curtain.

There Seamus Harahan's video "Tessies" plays on a large screen in front of a few haphazardly arranged pieces of thrift store-quality furniture. Filmed in a shebeen, the Irish version of an American speakeasy, in Tyrone during Christmas 2000, the rowdy old folk in the video give the false impression that time has stood still -- as if nothing ever happened in their community and nothing ever will.

The piece is particularly poignant in light of Aisling O'Beirn's installation "And Other Storeys" arranged on the floor on the other side of the second-floor gallery. Comprised of seven cardboard models of historically important structures that each relate to specific political or social events, they are haphazardly arranged on the floor.

Not surprisingly, three of them relate to the IRA. One is the Walker Monument, where Sinn Fein counselor Manus Canning reportedly hoisted the Irish Tricolor flag on St. Patrick's Day 1956. But visitors might be surprised to find among O'Beirn's models his version of the New Orleans landmark Superdome. The makeshift shelter of thousands left homeless in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, its inclusion here underscores the point of the installation. That is the relationship of these structures to their specific histories and how each particular history speaks of specific yet significant events.

Finally, the third floor offers a place for quiet contemplation, especially when viewing the seven digital photographs by Mary McIntyre. They feature nook-and-cranny views of overlooked spaces in and around Belfast, such as a pond in a park, a gallery in a museum or a hillside leading up to an office building.

But most arresting is Ian Charlesworth's piece "Always, again," which dominates the back wall. Made of five large sheets of plexiglass, it's covered in a hazy linear pattern design that was made with smoke from a candle run back and forth on the surface of each piece.

On the floor in front of the work is Alistair Wilson's piece "Giverny II," which simply comprises several large discs of acrylic that reflect Charlesworth's piece magnificently. It's really a sight to behold.

All in all, the exhibition offers aesthetically pleasing yet politically resonant works that say much about Northern Ireland today. If these artists prove anything, it's that resilience is a key factor in getting through life in their part of the world and, perhaps more importantly, that some memories will never fade.

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