Escolar Documentos
Profissional Documentos
Cultura Documentos
Public
Ed Carroll
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Introduction
In this article I will deal solely with three separate Irish projects that were
initiated by artists Seamus McGuinness, Ailbhe Murphy and Glenn
Loughran and involved working with many others, myself included, in
distinctive contexts. The first section of this article will document each of
the selected art practices, which have a civil orientation. The second
section will introduce an idea of civil society as a space to experience
being public with its potential for participation and reasonable discourse.
This section will also draw upon the writing of Emmanuel Lévinas whose
work questions the priority given to ‘thought’ and ‘thinking’ over and
above our dealings with our fellow human beings, in order to open-up
ideas about how to ‘value’ and ‘read’ cultural practices that produce an
experience of being public.
2003 in Ireland, 444 deaths were registered as suicide: 358 male and 86
female (Central Statistics Office, 2003). In the 15-24 year old age group,
108 people took their own lives: 92 male and 16 female. Suicide
surpasses road accidents as the principal cause of death for young males
in this age group.
This study examined Irish-lived lives, both male and female aged between
fourteen and forty-four years olds, lost to suicide between the years 2004-
2008. The process involved in-depth conversations with bereaved family
members and friends of over 104 suicide deceased over cups of tea in
their own homes.
During four days in June 2009, a private viewing of the art work (under
development) took place. The Galway-Mayo Institute of Technology Art
and Design was the site for the production, and about 20 staff and student
volunteers assisted the research team. The building was formerly a
seminary and its interior, a collection of small former cell-like structures
combined with large open spaces, was suitable in both scale and
atmosphere for the work. Over 100 people – families that engaged with
the project - made the journey by car, bus or train to Galway. For some it
was more than three years ago that they had picked up a phone and
agreed to participate in the research.
For the artist, bringing people together to view the works - or more
precisely the works in progress - helped to double-check his reading of
interview narratives, to observe and listen to family member responses
and to receive their permission to bring this work into the public sphere.
Each family had the chance to engage twice with the work, firstly
individually and collectively later in the week. It is the individual viewing
that will be my concern below.
In the first visit to the work the artist and the research team helped
mediate the encounter. Each family arrived at an agreed time and stayed
for over an hour. The artist introduced each work in what was an intensely
private individual experience, with the families only engaging with their
own donated materials. At the end of the visit bereavement counsellors
were on hand to meet with the families. What follows recalls each element
as it was encountered:
Lost Portraits Gallery. The families were directed into the Lost Portraits
gallery situated near the projection. It was a small white circular room in
which were installed 39 jacquard portraits of happy and beautiful young
people. McGuinness wanted to create ‘a portrait gallery, looking out to
the viewer, yet in absence - individually apart, yet collectively together’
(Artist Interview, 8th June 2009). The portraits were installed beginning
with the youngest - Rebecca, 14 years old – and ending with the oldest –
Hughie, 44 years old. Each portrait was installed at the actual height of
the individual. McGuinness (Interview, 8th June 2009) noted, ‘The
audience has to adjust so as to view the works(…) There were no corners
in this space for hiding or avoiding the gaze of the deceased(…)no corner
to hid, one simply had to engage’ (Personal interview, June 8th 2009).
Tapestries have always fulfilled the function of telling stories and are
‘suitable to witness to the sadness and sorrow of death by suicide’. A
mother succinctly recalled her experience: ‘I felt Fiona calling me over. I
stood in front of her and I put my hands at each side of her face. There
was nobody in the world but us’ (Artist correspondence with mother of
Fiona). Various family members caressed and kissed the tapestry with an
image of their dead child. Just like the human body, ‘it can be cut,
damaged and repaired, and ultimately both will disintegrate’. archive
print. Along the walls of one corridor was a long digital print banner (133
ft x 3ft). The image was a complete record of all donated items to the
archive, with the exception of photographic images. Seeing the line of
donated materials represented (books, toys, jewellery, etc.) a participant
remarked, ‘I didn’t understand it until I saw it in the context of all of the
photos. It made a touching catalogue of lives, of things, of the leftovers
when someone dies’ (Artist correspondence from families). archive films.
The family then walked into a small video-viewing booth. One of the short
films projected a favourite designer waistcoat once worn by the deceased.
A narrative of the interview with a family member speaking about the
deceased’s love for the suit accompanies the short archive film. With the
exception of the waist coat, all other short projections showed images of
the deceased.
It was in the archive rooms that the families had a great sense of
ownership. The families were not audience. They had become co-
producers of the work. Afterwards one family member remarked, ‘I loved
that each person had their own room … I guess I didn’t expect it to be as
much about us as about the people we had lost’ (Artist correspondence
from friend of Michael).
The idea that the work is as much about the people who are left behind by
the deceased as the deceased themselves captures an essential element
of the work. Finding a voice and confidence with which to use that voice
is no easy thing in a society where suicide is still stigmatised and
institutional failure goes unrecognised. An important aspect of the
aesthetic is to create the capacity for cultural action by families acting
collectively and politically.
This is the context and the people about which Tower Songs started its
recording and documenting work in 2005. Tower Songs was an art project
initiated by artist Ailbhe Murphy in 2003. From 2006 until 2007, while
working as an arts programmer with CityArts, Dublin, I was responsible for
the Tower Songs Project. During that time I had a unique opportunity to
learn many things about artistic collaboration in context with others,
especially from the artist, the artist team and colleagues from Fatima
Mansions. It remains a long-term city-wide project which seeks to
celebrate through voice, sound and song the memory and experience of a
number of tower block communities across Dublin as they make their
transition from tower block living to major urban regeneration initiatives.
One night, on June 27th 2006, the residents of Fatima Mansions
(supported by Fatima Groups United) and the Tower Songs artist team
created an event to mark the final demolition of the flats in Fatima
Mansions. As residents of Fatima were settling into their new homes, the
flats were being demolished. The H & J blocks remained standing until the
end of June, and then the time came to say goodbye. The flats, once full of
life and sound, had fallen silent. The balconies where everyone stepped
out to chat, to hear, to watch, to call and to participate in life unfolding in
Fatima were empty and quiet. Neighbours, who are only next door in their
houses, nearby on the new streets standing at their gates, for a time felt
faraway. To mark this moment in Fatima, Tower Songs recreated an event
to bear witness to what balcony life did mean to the people who lived
there. On that night the balconies became a performance space, a
disused flat became a sitting room and the washing lines and bins became
filled with sounds.
In workshops prior to the event, residents made it clear that most of the
Fatima drama was carried out on and from the balconies. The event
involved the community on the night both as audience and participants
whereby residents helped to guide members of the public through what
was once Fatima Mansions.
The area was cordoned off and people gathered outside to gain entry.
Groups of thirty people were brought into the space and welcomed by
their community guide. While people waited, they heard a recording
facilitated by artist John Mahon involving children in the creche creating a
soundscape of local environmental sounds.
As soon as everyone was welcomed and divided into small groups by local
youth workers, they set off with their guides. The Tower Songs artist
team, Sean Millar, George Higgs and Brian Fleming, organised three sound
communities for the “Tower Songs: Fatima” event. Each sound
community was arranged in the H & J blocks, which were demolished
following the event.
The intention was for the audience to move amongst these communities,
for their attention to be drawn to the sounds. The space became a
tapestry of sound as the audience moved in and out of three sound
communities in sequence.
Then the groups were guided to a flat in which a group of young people
who had been facilitated by songwriter Sean Millar performed a song
called Faces are Still the Same. Using a Karaoke format the singing group
comprised of youth workers and teenagers who sang live while sitting on
a couch to the audience huddled together in the darkened flat. Finally,
each group moved across the yard and up to the first balcony to join in
the performance of the ‘Goodbye Song’. Thirteen women who were former
residents of the Blocks composed the song in collaboration with the artist
Sean Millar. Millar explained, ‘If the song had not functioned like a ritual
then it would have been useless’ (in Szálka 2007: 25 f33). People stood in
a line on the balcony and were asked to place their hands on the
shoulders in front of them. Accompanied by three string musicians the
song was performed up to twenty times during the night.
Speaking after the event, Jim Lawlor, the team leader of the youth project
in the area, noted, ‘The Tower Songs project has drawn in and lifted up
the voice of large numbers of residents. It has also helped craft and give
full expression to the distilled experiences of mothers, sons, fathers and
daughters in ways that have created pride, defiance and optimism’
(Conference Presentation, 30th November 2006).
The idea of this project was to locate a temporary pedagogical site called
Literacy House. The idea formed slowly through conversations among key
participants in 2008. Located in Priorswood on the northern inner suburb
of Dublin city, the project was developed by artist Glenn Loughran and
women from the Priorswood Travellers Support Group. Priorswood
Community Development Project is part of the Irish Government
Community Development Programme, which was launched in 1990 by the
Irish Government with the specific aim of supporting local groups to
overcome problems of poverty and disadvantage. Aside from its role in
the local community as a resource centre, the centre also develops
programmes, using arts and culture, in response to local problems like
drug misuse and joyriding. TravAct, which is part of the Priorswood
Travellers Support Group, participated in the Literacy House Project which
was run largely by members of the Travelling Community.
The work involved the placing an old mobile home, often referred to as a
‘trailer’ by Travellers, in different locations throughout the area and its
gradual renovation into a temporary space for education and art. For
those who are not familiar with Traveller culture, a description by an
American visitor to the project is helpful. Con Christenson (Email
communication dated 17th August 2009) noted:
The Travellers are what many call Irish gypsies, but I learned they are not
descended from the Roma people of Eastern Europe(…) Traveller
culture is rooted in Catholicism, preserves its history through
storytelling, deals with debilitating prejudice and other social issues
and is now looking at how to maintain of a traditional lifestyle
challenged by everything modern.
The complex negotiation of site permission to place the trailer in different
locations and subsequent renovation of the trailer became a point of
departure for a pedagogical process with Traveller women. Each
participating group discussed the difference between inclusion and
belonging and these conversations became the driving force behind the
project. It led to a series of reflections and home-grown publications about
its meaning with reference to family, halting sites, education,
employment, the state and citizenship. For Loughran,
The focus is placed on the will of the individual to find out something for
oneself and to teach it to their neighbour without aid of a master.
Emphasis is on ‘the group, not a teacher, researching and taking
ownership’. The process started with each member researching ‘how to
make a book’. Once the book was made it was used to collect the
resulting research material. From this point on the group considered how
the space might look like and function as an adult literacy space. To do
this each member researched how to change or reconstruct a part of the
space. The content of the books explored what it meant to ‘belong’ and its
polar opposite ‘not belonging’. Specifically barriers such as inadequate
housing and literacy became important subject matter in the books.
At the end of each discussion, the group was then asked a series of
questions relating to the group process and the work produced. These
interviews are edited together and provide the basis for explaining the
project and process to the next group in the next site. As each group also
produced a series of art books, the formal process realised the production
of over twelve books that collect the research process, which have been
used to develop literacy skills and give expression to the stories and
debates emerging from the process.
Loughran took his cue from Jacques Ranciére’s study The Ignorant
Schoolmaster (1991: 39). Here Ranciére’s idea of emancipatory learning is
to engage the totality of human intelligence in each intellectual
manifestation. He argues that much of the benevolence of education
towards ideas of citizenship and equality actually has done 66little to alter
the problems associated with educational disadvantage (1991: 101).
One can teach what one doesn’t know. A poor and ignorant father can
thus begin educating his children: something must be learned and
all the rest related to it. On this principle: everyone is of equal
intelligence.
Ranciére’s main objective is to develop a political theory that could be
used to reevaluate the concept of equality and build a theory of radical
equality. He argues that the state cannot allow or produce this
progressive kind of pedagogy because education is controlled by the
system (Ranciére, 2004: 223).
There is something quite subtle here. This process takes the risk of
allowing the politics come from an otherwise mundane process. And
it does. Because to discuss equality in education you do not need to
add politics, because its politics is ‘who teaches who and why’.
While I worked with City Arts Centre during its Civil Arts Inquiry
(www.cityarts. ie), the idea of civil society came to be understood through
dialogue, cultural production and publication. The Inquiry involved an
eighteen-month period (20022004) of art programming and reflection
about the role of art and society. During the Inquiry, the English
philosopher Anthony Grayling (Civil Arts Inquiry 2003: 30) proffered a
perspective on the role of originating experiences in civil society. He
identified a qualitative shift away from a savage existence to one which
can be termed ‘civilised’. The crucial moment takes place as the focus of
celebration and honouring shifts from that of ‘the warrior to the civic
virtues’. In Aeschylus’s Oresteia, Orestes, son of Agaenon who was
pursued by the Furies because he had murdered his mother
Clytemnaestra in revenge for the murder of his father, appeals for mercy
and Athene summons a thousand citizens to sit in judgement on his case.
Thus, a new process is introduced which is about being human with each
other rather than the power of force or privilege.
Hello. Yes. I’m from Poland now, in Warsaw. I stayed in prison a month, in
Brussels. They put me on a plane accompanied by two big men and
sent me to Warsaw… In Warsaw I applied for asylum as soon as I
learned about it… They kept throwing me from one country to
another. Like a ball; using the ‘Dublin criteria’ (Dublin Convention)
as an excuse. Come here, go there. They don’t care what you feel;
they just make you feel unwanted.
The strain of coping with the order of life is common to both texts.
Something is not quite right. Both illustrations assume the breakdown of a
sense of community in a society. Absence is predicated by
precariousness, a desire for freedom from alienation and isolation yet also
an imprisonment. Suspicion and mean-spiritedness abound. Both
protagonists, due to the injustice of the context, are unable to awaken or
experience an individual or collective faculty of being in society. At its
most basic level, this faculty encompasses how to be human and in
relationship with others. One thing is certain - without this intuitive
faculty, located in the common sense of the individual in society, it is not
possible to speak about ‘civil society’.
The connection I wish to draw between the discussion so far and the
Lévinas’s philosophical insight concerns his orientation towards being for
others and his perspective on the neighbour and the stranger in society.
He never used the phrase ‘civil society’, but the experience of proximity
to the other is closely bound to the idea I propose for civil society. Also,
his writing and ideas have particular resonance with the cultural practice
outlined above as Lévinas resisted a solely egobased understanding of the
reality of knowledge. For him, knowledge is devalued when driven solely
by a desire ‘to be: already an insistence on [my] being as if a “survival
instinct”(…) were its meaning’ (Lévinas, 1997: 132).
For him Lévinas the human person is launched, like Moses in the basket,
‘when human existence interrupts and goes beyond its efforts to be ……
the human being’s existential adventure matters to the I more than its
own’(1998: xii). He suggests that aesthetic experience must be released
from its the historical association with logical reasoning(1995: 53).
The implication for the human person was succinctly recalled by Lévinas
by drawing upon a comparison between two versions of a sentence from
the Talmud. ‘Every man is obligated to think that the entire universe has
been created because of him.’ This article attempts to suggest a way of
being open to cultural practices that can awaken a dormant civil society.
Referring to that sentence in the Talmud, Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin, an
eighteenth-century Lithuanian rabbi understood it in this way: ‘Every man
is obligated to think that the subsistence of the entire universe depends
exclusively on him, that he is responsible for it.’
This article was published in conjunction with the launch of Life:Art during
Kaunas Biennial TEXTILE 09 (www.bienale.lt/lifeart).
Published by the Irish Youth Work Press,20 Lower Dominick Street, Dublin
1. Tel: +353 (01)8729933 www.iywc.com ISBN: 978 1 900416 77 1