Walking into Temple Bar Gallery and Studios for the exhibition My Brilliant Friend feels like entering a different world. The industrial feel of the space, the anonymous magnolia walls (brilliantly interrogated by Avril Corroon in her film Fresh Paint on the Walls), the dim lighting and sparseness of the artwork all combine to produce a strange, almost dystopian sensation. If this is a reflection of Dublin in July 2016, it’s not a terribly encouraging one.
My Brilliant Friend is a collaborative exhibition by Michelle Browne, Avril Corroon, Ella de Búrca, Lisamarie Johnson and performance group Laugh a Defiance. The artists were invited to respond to the idea of an exhibition about Dublin in July 2016 and their lived experiences of that. It was conceived as a kind of “psychogeography”, which, explains curator Rayne Booth, refers to “the practice of travelling through a city or a landscape and describing it not just by what you see, but by researching and describing past events that happened there.” She continues, “I felt that it would be impossible (or maybe disingenuous) to approach an exhibition about Dublin in the present moment without referring to ongoing feminist and political issues.”
The title is drawn from an Elena Ferrante novel which documents the friendship of two women growing up in post-war Naples. Rayne says “I felt that the story of the two women could serve as a kind of an overall allegory for feminism and the issues that we all face as women. Also I like the reference to solidarity and generosity in the title. We can all be fans of each other and promote the brilliance of our friends, rather than trying to keep all of the success and glory for ourselves!”
Michelle Browne’s work, Mná na hÉireann, is probably the most striking piece in the gallery. It consists of a large wooden kitchen table, on which are carved the words of article 41.2 of the Irish constitution, which designates the special place of women in the home. Interviews with women who have been involved with politics in Ireland (including former President Mary Robinson, Senator Ivana Bacik, Clare Daly TD, Frances Fitzgerald TD and many others) are projected from speakers overhanging the wooden kitchen stools. It’s a creative examination of women’s roles in society, transporting the most important political issues to the most domestic of environments. Respect for women’s work in the home is at the centre of the work, with the kitchen table resembling a monument to the inspiring women and mothers of Ireland. But the plurality of women’s experience is equally important, as reflected in the title and the wide range of voices chosen, all integrated to feel as if they are sitting with you, having a chat around the table. One small criticism however, is that the voices are sometimes difficult to hear over the noise from the street outside and the other installations.
Avril Corroon’s video work Fresh Paint on the Walls is a witty investigation of issues around the private rental market, gentrification and, in an absurdist twist, magnolia paint. The satirical documentary-style voiceover delivers an increasingly bizarre script with a deadpan tone that evokes the wry humour of Corroon’s imagination. While not as explicitly feminist as some of the other works, this is a timely exploration of one of the crucial problems Dublin currently faces. The landlord, played with relish by Jeremy Earls, is an utterly grotesque figure, licking the walls and drinking paint, with a bullish demeanour and truly disgusting skin make-up. The vision Corroon paints of Dublin is nightmarish. Magnolia paint is a terrifying capitalist conspiracy. The tenant is small, scared and vulnerable. The cafés and cookie shops are encroaching; if the landlord finds out he’ll raise the rent.
The second video installation of the exhibition is Ella de Búrca’s Saying is Believing, in which the artist confronts intimate questions about her gender, her past and her practice while being interrogated, mocked and assessed by her own alter ego, represented by a 16-year old actor (Laura-Louise Reay). The two screen format places the viewer in between the two actors, as if drawing us right inside the mind of the artist to eavesdrop on her private mental battle. Her identity is fractured, both thematically and stylistically. She wonders aloud, somewhat nervously, about her past experiences and how they have shaped her gender, about her identity as an artist and a woman, and about how best to combat fear and self-doubt. The piece is deeply moving and a little disorienting; the viewer is forced to flick their head back and forth between the screens as the poetic narrative builds in intensity. Laura-Louise Reay’s performance is compelling, her assuredness contrasting with the older artist’s wide-eyed vulnerability.
Performance artist, poet and healer Lisamarie Johnson performed her work Soulcall on the opening night of the exhibition. Remnants from the performance are on show in the gallery; an intriguing disconnected photograph and frame entitled My twin flame, portrait of a wedding (unmarried mother), a Magpie bouquet and a piece of rose quartz, which we are invited to hold over our heart to promote healing. Laugh a Defiance Episode 2 will be staged in the gallery on Friday 2nd September, with Mason Leaver Yap and Vaari Claffey on vocals, Miriam O’Connor and Jesse Jones on scenography and Sarah Grimes on drums.
This is an exhibition with a lot to say about feminist issues, both in an abstract, philosophical sense and in the actual political climate of Dublin in 2016. It is also deeply personal. These are artists, as Rayne explains “who really live these issues.”
“I hope that it will give people a bit of space and time, to enter the gallery, hear the stories and see the work, and give some headspace to what it is like in Dublin right now, for all of us. From a personal perspective, I think we still have a long way to go before women are equal to men in this country.”
My Brilliant Friend runs until Saturday 3rd September in Temple Bar Gallery and Studios.
Words: Naoise Murphy
