Excerpt from “Two Points of View”, an interview with John Carson and Paddy Graham printed in Circa, No. 14, (Jan/Feb 1984): pp. 30-33. (Note: the following reproduction contains only John Carson’s segment.)
Is what we produce affected by the location it is produced in, and how much are we influenced from elsewhere? Circa asked two artists, John Carson and Paddy Graham to reflect personal experience of living and working in the two Irelands and estimate the impact that their particular locations have had on cultural production?
John Carson is a Belfast born artist who has worked and studied in Northern Ireland, England and the U.S.A. He is currently living in London. His work has variously used photography, performance, installation and publications to examine cultural indoctrination in Ireland and elsewhere.
Whilst looking for ways of earning money in the U.S.A. I came across an advertisement for people to do voices for a T.V. puppet show. One of the characters was to be an Irish drunk. I thought I was sure of a few dollars but I failed the audition and an American actor got the job. The Ulster accent completely baffled them.
The north of Ireland is a cruel obstacle to any notion of pure Irishness. Throughout its tortuous history it has been causing all sorts of identity problems with its volatile mixture of Irish, Scottish and English descendants with their diverse cultural and political interests. The northerner can be made to feel somewhat of a misfit in Ireland and abroad. Out of its home context the accent means ‘trouble’ of one kind or another. There is confusion for the unknown foreigner at a person from Ireland who does not have the standard stage and screen version of the brogue; and wariness from the foreigner or the southerner who recognises the accent and wonders ‘what sort’ they are dealing with in reference to politics and violence in Ulster. People of the North can claim British or Irish citizenship and so can choose whether they want to be ‘Irish’ or not. Without wishing to wade into the constitutional politics of it all I would say that the north of Ireland serves as painful evidence of the fact that the culture of any society can never be hermetically sealed. The culture of Ireland has been an evolving amalgam of invading and infiltrating forces. How far back should we go to define true and essential Irishness?
Several non-Irish artists living and working in Ireland as artists and teachers have made significant contributions to the development of art in Ireland and should justifiably be written into a survey of contemporary Irish art. Occasional visitors and outsiders tackle Irish themes in their work. Positive outside influences enrich the local scene and help to counteract introspective provincialism. However, given the politics of Ireland as a country subject to imperialism and various forms of outside exploitation, one can understand suspicion among natives as to the motives of people across the water. For instance, despite the integrity of any individuals, the predominance of English teaching staff in the fine art department at the art college in Belfast has associations with the historical possession of power and control in the particular colonial circumstances of Northern Ireland.
The political situation is such that it is possible to capitalise on the more sensational aspects of life in Northern Ireland for careerist reasons. At a talk Joseph Beuys was giving to coincide with his exhibition at the Ulster Museum in Belfast in 1976, an irate woman accused him of being “like the rest of them coming to pick the bones off the carcass”. She was not the only one to throw such accusations in the face of the publicity circus surrounding Beuys’ visit to ‘our troubled province’. Ironically Beuys’ visit and his ideas for a free international university proved instrumental in the formation of Art and Research Exchange in Belfast.
Consider the careers of Northern Ireland’s two most successful bands from the punk era. Stiff Little Fingers’ success owed a great deal to their being the calculated anger cry of frustration of bomb weary Belfast youth. Without the Ulster reference in their lyrics they would have been just another punk band. On the other hand The Undertones instantly catchy classic pop tunes on universal teenage love themes would probably have brought them fame no matter what their regional origins. To Stiff Little Fingers the fact that they came from and sang about Northern Ireland was vital to their worth, but The Undertones, although proudly asserting their Derry background, were not reliant on it for their success.
I remember a lengthy discussion among several Belfast artists invited to show as a group in London. Some in the group felt it significant that they be advertised as Belfast artists and others felt that this was not only irrelevant but that it could create unreasonable expectations from their work. They wished to be considered as artists irrespective of nationality or ethnic origins.
The work of artists concerned with specifically Irish subject matter such as landscape, townscape, people and politics of Ireland might rely on their Irishness for its insight and credibility and the label Irish Art would be readily accepted. However nationality would not be a crucial factor in the work of those dealing with purely abstract aesthetic or formal concerns within a general international fine art discourse. This does not deny the possibility of metaphorical readings within such work.
I take the term Irish Art, categorically, to mean art which has been made, shown and discussed in Ireland. But the definition can get blurred at the edges and I wonder about the art of Irish émigrés which may or may not be seen back home or the work of non-Irish artists dealing with Irish subject matter. Within the history of Irish art I can think of no particular style or technique, movement or medium which stands out and defines itself as exclusively Irish. I don’t think that the inclusion of a few spiral forms in a painting or sculpture constitutes significant proof of an aesthetic continuum. The absence of any major recognized historical exclusive’-ism’ in Irish art could have as much to do with the machinations of the international market place as anything else. Ireland exists very much on the periphery of the international art arena and the rules of the game are being decided in New York, London, Berlin and Rome. I am sure that if Irish angst could be sold as easily as the current German and Italian variety we would have ourselves a movement. The fabrication of history relates to the locations of power and wealth.
Our insularity does not cut us off completely from the world. Certainly in Belfast and Dublin all the international art periodicals are available to keep us up to date with the latest styles; and gallery and college structures ensure enough traffic of art and artists to keep us in touch. I have not sufficient knowledge of art colleges and art centres outside Belfast and Dublin to comment on the availability of contemporary art information throughout the country. But from what eventually surfaces nationally, art in Ireland over the years shows ample evidence of imported styles and influences adapted and modified by particular personalities within Irish art. I would tend to focus on content rather than form or style in searching for the Irishness of Irish art.
The first years of this present phase of political unrest in Northern Ireland seemed to be received with stunned shock by a visual arts community otherwise occupied with aesthetic and formal art arguments. The violent political turmoil caused some artists to fundamentally re-examine the context for their work. Subsequently I feel that two distinct attitudes developed within Irish art (allowing for manoeuvre in between) – those choosing to continue art practice primarily within a fine art aesthetic and formal discourse and those choosing to demonstrate a political concern in their work. Obviously work within this second category would be specifically Irish in content while methodology in both areas is influenced by international modes.
The word politics in Ireland is almost synonymous with the north/south, protestant/catholic, loyalist/republican dichotomy and this is the main subject for Irish political art. The wishful unification of the opposing factions is a recurring theme often symbolized by the obvious use of orange and green.
Being unaware of a definable Irish style or sensibility this is a type of contemporary work which I would think of as significantly Irish, in that the subject matter which it tackles involves questioning of the state and conditions of Ireland and Irishness and that is all that really distinguishes it from the art of anywhere else in the world where Art Forum, Studio International and Performance magazines are on sale. Ultimately I do not think it matters whether work can be classified as Irish or not, or whether it is done by a native or a foreigner, as long as the work is revelatory in some way.
People make Ireland what they want it to be. Within the desire for a neatly definable Irishness I find a number of disturbing notions such as the connivance to create a category for exclusivity or marketability, or the yearning for a glorious mythical past and future, or the wish to create a strong national identity for political control and manipulation.
Does conformity to a sense of national identity contribute to self-awareness? A stereotype is too simple and its apparent adequacy preventative of real understanding. Why should anyone conform to someone else’s fixed idea of what they should be?
I got a job in the U.S.A. as vocalist with a group of American musicians playing traditional Irish music. Our invitation to do a St. Patrick’s Day party was withdrawn because I refused to sing ‘When Irish eyes are smiling’.