cyanotype images from village shop printed onto paper made from unclaimed receipts from the shop
I left the serenity of the mountains for the city this weekend and it’s been emotional. I experienced sunshine and seagulls alongside serious economic and social debate at This Situation by Tino Sehgal and then crashed back to the true reality of poverty through Seamus Nolans 10th President.
On Wednesday as I sat slurping tea with Heidi, discussing our plans for upcoming residencies; she will go to Paris on 1st May for one month, I will go to Leeds for a week at the end of May. As a plein air painter mainly working in rural locations – the city will be a challenge for her. I must produce and exhibition in one week at Leeds. The finer details are all to be worked out on arrival. It is exciting but also I think we both feel apprehension around what it is possible to produce in these circumstances. So why do it, and how does it affect the work you produce?
For now I have relocated to the Gaeltacht, not far from my home, but far enough away for me to dedicate my time to making art without feeling guilty about choosing this activity over housework or spending time with my family. I’ve been productive; I get up go to the studio, make work, talk about making work, think about work, write about making work. In the evening I can call my friends and family and at the weekend I go back and work in the little shop and have family Sunday dinner. It’s like having a normal full time job (and then working part-time at the weekend).
If I were at home I would not have a studio or a space of any kind to go to. I think this is the key to making art – having the space to do so, and this is what residencies offer: a place where you are supposed to make art. Of course you still have to do housework, cook and clean up after yourself but the rest of the time is working and living as an artist. If you are lucky there are other artists around to discuss art and if not you can talk to yourself in the form of a blog, although I believe there are a few who actually read what I blurt out.
I had a fairly good reason to leave my safe studio and head for the city; I had been invited for an interview at one of Dublin’s most established artist led galleries. Due to various factors a friend has worked out I have about 5% chance of getting this job, but it was still worth the trip. It’s always good to meet people in your field. The art world is so small but getting in the door is not easy. If a door opens only slightly artists must wedge their foot in there and hope that they are wearing the appropriate footwear. As it turns out I was wearing shoes that “mean business and look good whilst doin’ it”[1]. Hopefully this is the kind of candidate they are looking for and they saw my shoes.
Those shoes took me to the National Concert Theatre where IMMA have temporarily relocated. I was quite overwhelmed by the exhibition downstairs ‘I Know You’ and my feet were in bits as I finally made it up the stairs to Tino Sehgals work. I’d never experienced his work and so it was very daunting. I don’t really want to say much about it because you have to be there yourself but I spent about half an hour in the room with the six performers and began to drift off when they turned their conversation over to me. I was daydreaming, it had started when I was contemplating something there were discussing about being involved in your community and I started to wonder about this dynamic between me as the viewer/audience and they as performers. The sun was shining in the skylights warming my aching feet which were now stretched out before me when they pointed to me and asked: what did I think? As usual I was too honest and admitted that the sound of their voices had carried me off into the fluffy clouds and I was not even aware of their current dialogue. They did not seem offended and I stayed for a while as they pondered on the world outside above them, then I made my way down to Temple Bar where I visited Sean Nolan’s 10th President.
Outside on the streets of Temple Bar some young men were singing, maybe imitating Justin Beiber and they were being cooed at by a large group of young girls with backpacks. Men in and out of white vans carried tools and drilled into the road. The last of the deliveries for the bars and restaurants were being dropped off by people navigating the cobbled streets laden with boxes. Inside the bars the cover bands played and tourists sang along clutching their pints of Guinness. A group of charity collectors stopped for an al fresco coffee in the all too infrequent Irish sunshine.
Amidst all this drama, I entered a glass door on the corner and was confronted with the background story for the 10th President. The show was minimal; a poster, a framed letter from Michael D Higgans and a small table with booklets. As I read the vinyl on the wall I began to well up with emotion. I tried to walk as calmly as I could around the corner when a film was playing. In the dark I wept as the text in the film told of this young boy who died aged just 10 years old from abuse whilst in the care of the state. Because he was poor his life was not valued and he became the victim of the frustrations of those whose job it was to care for him.
The artist has requested that this young boy become the 10th President, the highest honour that can be given to a citizen. Nothing can undo what harm has been done, but this act which I feel could not have been requested by any other representative only an artist shows what art can do to be part of the community and give a voice to those who are invisible. Surely it is our responsibility as artists, with the freedom this allows us, to do what we can; exercise this freedom for the betterment of the community, city, country or world we live in?
And what am I doing? Well firstly I am ‘being’ an artist in Ireland and this is a start.
[1] Comment from performer at This Situation
On Wednesday as I sat slurping tea with Heidi, discussing our plans for upcoming residencies; she will go to Paris on 1st May for one month, I will go to Leeds for a week at the end of May. As a plein air painter mainly working in rural locations – the city will be a challenge for her. I must produce and exhibition in one week at Leeds. The finer details are all to be worked out on arrival. It is exciting but also I think we both feel apprehension around what it is possible to produce in these circumstances. So why do it, and how does it affect the work you produce?
For now I have relocated to the Gaeltacht, not far from my home, but far enough away for me to dedicate my time to making art without feeling guilty about choosing this activity over housework or spending time with my family. I’ve been productive; I get up go to the studio, make work, talk about making work, think about work, write about making work. In the evening I can call my friends and family and at the weekend I go back and work in the little shop and have family Sunday dinner. It’s like having a normal full time job (and then working part-time at the weekend).
If I were at home I would not have a studio or a space of any kind to go to. I think this is the key to making art – having the space to do so, and this is what residencies offer: a place where you are supposed to make art. Of course you still have to do housework, cook and clean up after yourself but the rest of the time is working and living as an artist. If you are lucky there are other artists around to discuss art and if not you can talk to yourself in the form of a blog, although I believe there are a few who actually read what I blurt out.
I had a fairly good reason to leave my safe studio and head for the city; I had been invited for an interview at one of Dublin’s most established artist led galleries. Due to various factors a friend has worked out I have about 5% chance of getting this job, but it was still worth the trip. It’s always good to meet people in your field. The art world is so small but getting in the door is not easy. If a door opens only slightly artists must wedge their foot in there and hope that they are wearing the appropriate footwear. As it turns out I was wearing shoes that “mean business and look good whilst doin’ it”[1]. Hopefully this is the kind of candidate they are looking for and they saw my shoes.
Those shoes took me to the National Concert Theatre where IMMA have temporarily relocated. I was quite overwhelmed by the exhibition downstairs ‘I Know You’ and my feet were in bits as I finally made it up the stairs to Tino Sehgals work. I’d never experienced his work and so it was very daunting. I don’t really want to say much about it because you have to be there yourself but I spent about half an hour in the room with the six performers and began to drift off when they turned their conversation over to me. I was daydreaming, it had started when I was contemplating something there were discussing about being involved in your community and I started to wonder about this dynamic between me as the viewer/audience and they as performers. The sun was shining in the skylights warming my aching feet which were now stretched out before me when they pointed to me and asked: what did I think? As usual I was too honest and admitted that the sound of their voices had carried me off into the fluffy clouds and I was not even aware of their current dialogue. They did not seem offended and I stayed for a while as they pondered on the world outside above them, then I made my way down to Temple Bar where I visited Sean Nolan’s 10th President.
Outside on the streets of Temple Bar some young men were singing, maybe imitating Justin Beiber and they were being cooed at by a large group of young girls with backpacks. Men in and out of white vans carried tools and drilled into the road. The last of the deliveries for the bars and restaurants were being dropped off by people navigating the cobbled streets laden with boxes. Inside the bars the cover bands played and tourists sang along clutching their pints of Guinness. A group of charity collectors stopped for an al fresco coffee in the all too infrequent Irish sunshine.
Amidst all this drama, I entered a glass door on the corner and was confronted with the background story for the 10th President. The show was minimal; a poster, a framed letter from Michael D Higgans and a small table with booklets. As I read the vinyl on the wall I began to well up with emotion. I tried to walk as calmly as I could around the corner when a film was playing. In the dark I wept as the text in the film told of this young boy who died aged just 10 years old from abuse whilst in the care of the state. Because he was poor his life was not valued and he became the victim of the frustrations of those whose job it was to care for him.
The artist has requested that this young boy become the 10th President, the highest honour that can be given to a citizen. Nothing can undo what harm has been done, but this act which I feel could not have been requested by any other representative only an artist shows what art can do to be part of the community and give a voice to those who are invisible. Surely it is our responsibility as artists, with the freedom this allows us, to do what we can; exercise this freedom for the betterment of the community, city, country or world we live in?
And what am I doing? Well firstly I am ‘being’ an artist in Ireland and this is a start.
[1] Comment from performer at This Situation
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