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Iirlaste Kehastatud Looming
review by Andri Ksenofontov 07.02.2013

Fiona O’Dwyeri näitus „Külmad käed, soe süda” („Cold hands, Warm Heart”) Metropoli galeriis 12. – 20. I, Maria Kerini näitus „Kohtumiste märkmed” („Meeting Marks”) Tartu Loomemajanduskeskuse Trepigaleriis ja Fiona O’Dwyeri näitus „Ma kaevasin selle kleidi välja oma aiast ” („I dug this dress up in the garden”) Spargeli kohvikus 19. I – 2. II, Charlene McFarlandi näitus „Eedi & Éabha” Pingi galeriis kuni 27. II, kuraator Emer Lynch.
Eestlased näevad iirlastes ehtsate kultuuriväärtuste kandjaid ning ehedat kultuuri leiavad iirlased ka Eestist. See ei ole vahetuskaup vorst vorsti vastu, vaid mõlema oskus argihallusestki kunsti leida. Näiteks Fiona O’Dwyer kaevas oma aiast välja kleidi ehk pealkirjastas oma näituse „I dug this dress up in the garden”. Kleidi graafilised tõmmised, parimal Hahne­mühle paberil, rippusid Tartu loomemajanduskeskuse seintel. Fiona O’Dwyer koukis kleidi välja ettevaatlikult, koos mullaga, mille trükipress iga kord riidekoest paberile surus, kui kleit poognale sai sätitud. Tavalisest mullast sündis värvimuld. Nagu ka mõttekaaslased rühmitusest Outrider Artistsi, üritab Fiona O’Dwyer teha loomingut nii spontaanselt kui võimalik. Iga­sugune kavandamine ja fiksaatorite kasutamine vähendab tema arvates loomingu loomulikkust. Osa tema koduaia mullast varises Tartus pildi pealt maha ja segunes Eestimaa mullaga. Isegi joonistades proovib Fiona O’Dwyer pildist võimalikult mööda vaadata, tajudes käe tegevust ainult silmanurgast. Kleit ilmus välja naabritelt ostetud aiaosast ning kui ta kodulinnas näituse avas, siis oli kohaletulnute hulgas ka kleidi tõenäoline omanik, endine naaber. „Et ta ainult ülemisele korrusele ei läheks ja pildi allkirja ei loeks!” mõtles Fiona O’Dwyer endamisi, sest naabrinaine oleks kindlasti seose minevikuga ära tabanud. Sellist kunstiteose ja publiku tagasisidet autor ette näha ei osanud.
Tallinnas Metropoli galeriis oli Fiona O’Dwyeril samal ajal lahti näitus „Külmad käed, soe süda”. Asi sai alguse juba sellest, kui väike Fiona oma isa, populaarse kõrtsilaulja ja sama rännuhimulise emaga linnast linna reisis. Kus nad ka ei peatunud, inimesed jätsid Fiona isale asju, mis seotud kallite mälestustega. Need ei olnud ilmtingimata hinnalised asjad, kuid südamest antud. Fiona O’Dwyerist sai kunstnik, tema sõbranna ja outrider’ite rühmituse aktivist Maria Kerin tõi ta Tallinna, kus Margus Tiitsmaa ja Meeland Sepp Vedeliku rühmitusest koos Taave Tuutma ja Remo Randveriga avaetenduse andsid. Vedeliku performance paisus hüdroelektrijaama võimsusega kulminatsioonini, kus Tuutma virutas vabaduse peerud kõnekantsli ette ja kuulutas: „Meie reliikvia on vabadus!”. Tuleohutuse huvides siiski peergusid kahest otsast põlema ei pandud. Fiona O’Dwyeri näitus oli kokku seatud isale meeneks antud asjade põhjal. Ta lisas ka kolm elektripirni, kuhu peale oli kirjutatud tsitaat Apsley Cherry-Garrardi Antarktika rännuraamatust: „Tsivilisatsiooni luksus rahuldab vaid neid vajadusi, mida on ise tekitanud”.
Fiona O’Dwyeri looming kehastub maetud kleitides, elektripirnide tulikirjades ja külmades kätes. Koreograafi taustaga Maria Kerin on loonud meetodi loominguprotsessi kehastamiseks või, nagu ta inglise keeles seda ise nimetab: Embodied Creativity Process. Tantsustuudios, Skype’i, isegi nutitelefoni teel avab ta kunstnike loovust jooga tüüpi keskendumise abil. Selle tegevusega oli ta Eestis kahe nädala jooksul hõivatud pealkirja all „Kohtumiste märked”. Tulemustest kirjutab ta raamatu. Seda võib pidada vaba kunstiloomingu põhimõtte kuulutamiseks, mida ei piira eesmärkide seadmine, isegi mitte kaalutlev mõtlemine kunstiteose loomise hetkel. See on ettekujutus kunstist, mis sünnib kunstile omasel loomupärasel viisil, mida on parem oma sekkumisega mitte häirida. Outrider’id väldivad isegi projektiavalduste kirjutamist toetuse saamiseks, sest – kuidas saab loominguakt vaba olla, kui seda on juba projektina kirjeldatud?
Tavapärasel projektijärgsel viisil jõudis Tallinna galeriisse Pink iiri noore klaasikunstniku Charlene McFarlandi näitus. Siin tuleb esile tõsta ka korraldajaid Emer Lynchi Iirimaalt ja Pingi galeristi Kateriin Rikkenit. Nad tutvusid Inglismaal õpingute ajal Sunderlandi ülikoolis, sealt ka mõte koos näitus teha. Üritus hõlmab veel kahte töötuba ja vestlusõhtut koos ettekannetega. Emer Lynch on kuraator, näituseruumi valmistas ette ja vestlusõhtu korraldas Kateriin Rikken. Tähelepanuväärseks teeb kogu ürituse põhjalik ettevalmistus, et soodustada sündmuse võimalikult suurt mõju ja tõhusat tagasisidet. Korraldajaid seob ühine vaade, mis jääb neil välja ütlemata, nimelt, et kunstis on oluline autori ja vaataja kommunikatsioon teose kaudu. Üks põhjus, miks kommunikatsioon antud juhul toimib, on kõigi korraldajate sügav professionaalne arusaamine ainest ja sellest tulenev teineteisemõistmine. Emer Lynch, kellel on bakalaureuse­kraad kunsti ja disaini ajaloos, pühendas 80 protsenti õpiajast praktilistele ainetele. Teoreetilistest ainetest pool oli pühendatud uutele teooriatele, pool filosoofia ajaloole. Tavaliselt minnakse Iirimaal pärast bakalaureusekraadi saamist mujale koolidesse magistriõppesse, et soovitud suunal eriala omandada. Emer Lynch kiindus klaasi ning kuraatorina on ta spet­sialiseerunud just klaasikunsti näitustele ja sündmustele. Tulemus Tallinnas räägib enda eest. Inspireerituna kunstnikest, kes sobitavad oma töid näitusesaali mööbli abil, palus ta ka Eestis tööde eksponeerimiseks vana mööblit tuua.
Charlene McFarlandi innustajaks on tema isa Hugh ja inspiratsiooniallikaks isa garaaž, mis pilgeni täis vanu autojuppe. Esimene mõte oligi tal metallitööd õppima minna, kuid siis läks ta klaasi üle. Garaažikola ei kujuta endast prükkarikollektsiooni, vaid see on auto tehniline ajalugu: mõtestatakse üleminekut ühelt lahenduselt teisele, hargnemistega iga uue detaili juures. Autode arengu kõige uhkeldavam aeg oli XIX sajandi lõpus ja XX sajandi alguses, kui kunstiilma valitsejateks tõusid art nouveau ja art déco. Siis konstruktsiooni ei varjatud, vaid tõsteti esile voolujooneliselt nagu Eiffeli torni puhul, mis kuulutas ette uut tehnikaesteetikat. Konstruktsiooni ilu jõudis otstarbekalt napisõnalise täiuseni juba enne funktsionalismi. Charlene McFarlandi töödes kehastab klaas tehnika ja ajaloo voolujoonelisust, klaasist puhutud torud ja lehtrid ühendavad esemeid isa garaažist. Klaastoru on võimalik lõpetada sinna tugevalt külge kinnitatud metallotsikuga nagu jalutuskepil või klaverijalal. Kui see metallots on magnetiseeritud ja magnetil on 150aastane garantii, siis nii sünnivad magnetliited, mis seovad klaasskulptuuri tervikuks. Tulemus on üllatav – tuttavate inimeste portreed. „Hugh” on tubli lühike pudel, korgiks Triumph Spitfire’ 1973. aasta mudeli rool. Kes siis veel ruulib kui mitte isa. „Earnesti” pika kaela otsa on kinnitatud ausa tööga mõlki läinud, aga muidu täiesti korras õlikann. „Fleming” on heitnud pikali neljale täispuidust leentoolile ning püüab roostes õlilehtriga vaikset automüra „Eoini” klaaslehtriga grammofonist. Tekib tunne, nagu viibiksid tubasel muusikaõhtul. Kavas on iiri lood diisli stiilis.

SIRP / Andri Ksenofontov see reviev online

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outriders in estonia

by Joe O’Muircheartaigh January 22, 2013

IT’S a long way from North Clare to Estonia.
In the cases of the travel arrangements of Maria Kerin and Fiona O’Dwyer, it’s a cross-country trip to Dublin for a flight to Riga in neighbouring Lithuania and then aboard the Tallinn Express for another four-and-half-hour bus journey.
But the path is getting well-worn at this stage and in both directions as the relationship and bond between two artistic melting pots – separated by thousands of miles yet hugely symbiotic for two different cultures and communities – continues to grow and feed off each one another……..

to read the rest of the article

http://www.clarepeople.com/2013/01/22/outriders-in-estonia/

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Strange, if the world was in a different colour…

by  Fiona Woods 2009

Déjà vu is a disorienting phenomenon, in which a recollection of the present coincides with the present itself, a momentary disjuncture in the flow of memory and time.

The French philosopher Henri Bergson (1859 – 1941) redefined the very nature of time. He viewed ideas of past, present and future as mere concepts, static representations of pure Duration. In Bergson’s account of time, past and present co-exist and are always already in the act of becoming-future and becoming-past. Time is not chronological.

Since what is real is continual change, form exists only as a snapshot of transition. Our intellect tends to solidify this fluid continuity of the real; the method by which we attach ourselves to the illusion of form is through the creation of a constant stream of internal images.

These matters go right to the heart of Fiona O’Dwyer’s work, Strange the rooms we’ve all lived in. In a play between duration, movement and form the artist pursues a strategy of repetition and endless return. At the centre of the work she has placed a set of moments and objects/images; these have been turned over and over, picked apart, troubled and worried by the artist, subjected to a variety of processes and practices, staged and re-staged as a series of events.

The work is permeated by the spectre of a film I Was Happy Here (1965). Scripted by Edna O’ Brien, starring Sarah Miles and Cyril Cusack, it was shot entirely on location in Co. Clare and London, unusual for the time. The film is a straightforward piece of narrative cinema – the heroine, a young woman, leaves Co. Clare for London and marries, but is not happy. After some years, she returns to Co. Clare but finds that she no longer belongs, that the former happiness she imagined eludes her.

O’Dwyer was drawn to the film initially because of her interest in the mechanics of film-making and the impact that the making of this film had had on the local area: what it had brought (employment, excitement, magic, pride, glamour) and what it had left behind – props and paraphernalia from the film that had found their way into people’s homes; places that had been rendered exotic through their re-framing as ‘locations’.

Her research led O’Dwyer to an original wooden ‘set’ that had been used in the film. Relocated from the shed where it had been stored for 40 years to her own garden, this set became a ‘strange room’, full of narrative and cinematic resonances that began to call up aspects of the artist’s own autobiography.  Her response was performative – she started to insert herself retrospectively into the film, albeit a version of the film that had never existed, constructing new props from her own collection of family objects. The resulting works superimpose layers of time, fiction, history and personal memory.

What comes through Strange the rooms we’ve all lived in is the artist’s tireless pursuit of something both imagined and unimaginable. She wonders if the world was a different colour in 1967. She has pored over photographs from the time, isolating small sections in which patches of colour seem to vibrate on a different wavelength. Employing a laborious four-colour intaglio photo-etching process, she has set out, not to reproduce images but to remake those vibrations of colour as she imagines they might have been.

The resulting etchings appear both as prints, and as projections onto objects, sites, buildings. Projection is thematically and technically important to O’Dwyer, and she returns again and again to a method of projecting images and films out of doors onto gable walls. She has described the resulting movement-images as being “full of air” but they are also penetrated by the world, by the textures and materials of the walls they temporarily animate.

This working and reworking of the image blurs boundaries between memory and matter, between fiction and reality, between this place and all places. O’Dwyer’s method of working does not fix the image but destabilises it, opening it up to flux, to shifting relations of visibility. Neither space nor time is privileged in this fluid continuity of the real.

Fiona Woods
July 2009

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Strange the rooms we’ve all lived in

by Michaële Cutaya 2009

circa see review online

Memories and films are often associated – in imagination we visualise our memories as akin to a film projection for instance – which may have something to do with a shared elusiveness. A film is always somehow happening in between two photograms and memories unpredictably unfold around objects or places. Both elude our grasp.

At the heart of Fiona O’Dwyer’s body of work Strange the rooms we’ve all lived in, there is a film: Desmond Davies I was happy Here (1965), and there are memories: of the film in the making but also the artist’s owns of another film of other places. Through series of performances, installations, projections, and various – mostly analogical – processes: printing, etching, drawing, filming, recording, the artist seems intent on inscribing, on embodying film and memories.

As the catalogue accompanying the exhibition suggests, the works on show in the Courthouse Gallery and in the town of Ennistymon are only the latest part of a body of works that has developed over two years with I was happy here as its Ariadne’s thread. The film, scripted by Edna O’Brien and partly shot in Ennistymon and Liscannor, recounts the return of an unhappily married young woman to the Irish seashore resort she felt happiest. She romantically associates this happiness with her love affair with a fisherman. Confronting her memories she realises her delusion but finds joy in the sea air, on the beach, in the music and seems to reach an insight to her longings. Strange the rooms we’ve all lived in – it is a line from the film – engages with both the narrative content (the diegesis) and the making (the exegesis) of the film.

The association of the film with Ennistymon and Lahinch beach echoes through the work: as the film was shot on location its making has left traces: props which have been kept by the inhabitants of the area, sets that were stored in someone’s shed for forty years, memories of the shooting itself such as Sarah Miles being permanently attended by a make up artist, and obviously the places presence in the film. O’Dwyer overlays the realm on-screen and the one off-screen in staging projections of film-stills with the props and sets used in the making, whether a bicycle or a bedroom set. The film was also shown in Ennistymon’s main street, which has a scene practically to itself thus creating a mirror effect for the viewers.

Another form of appropriation is the re-enactment of certain scenes such as the bicycle rides for the two channel video projection Endless returns: the artist repeated a long ride on Lahinch beach and transposed another – circular – from London to Lahinch beach. Rather than simply reproduce the scene she tried to recover an impression, a light atmosphere which permeated the film’ scene1.

A London’ scene in which the heroine felt most acutely her alienation and loneliness while standing in front of a shop window filled with television sets is the starting point of a performance, in turn leading to two installations. O’Dwyer set up sixteen television sets on Lahinch beach to form a stage for her singing of Oh Danny Boy. A recording of her singing as well as the elements of the performance – the magnetic recorder, the fur coat and the television sets were composed into two installations in shop windows accompanying the courthouse gallery show.

Her working through the film’s impressions seems to have unlocked some form of methodology for the artist to engage with her own memories. They are more directly addressed in the photographs, drawings and prints occupying the ground floor of the Courthouse gallery. A series of drawings attempt through tentative tracing to shape memories on paper, mapping an event as in What happened that night or placing a moment such as another singing of Oh Danny Boy.

A series of colour photo etchings, made from 1960’s photographs of O’Dwyer’s family, presents as coloured fragments of her past. They are identified by their location and date, ‘Valentia Ferry 1965’, ‘Balinagleara  interior 1965’ or ‘Millhill Dad ‘64’ but what she tried to inscribe through the printing process is rather a coloured sensation distinctive to 1960s photographs. The drawings and the etchings share a certain sketchiness, like a scratching of surfaces as if to scrape the literalness of the photographs or the narrativity of the event to reach the texture of a memory whether a colour a sound or a movement.

The photo etchings were also used for several out-door projections and for lighting the objects that are the subject of the five large photographs that occupy the central space of the gallery. The rather small objects – a purse, a syringe, a heart-shaped vessel, a bottle and a comb – which all have an intimate connection to O’Dwyer’s past, are given an almost monumental presence through the magnified scale of the photographs. Staged, named by sand-blasted words and hallowed the light of the past they seem to belong the objects are drawn from their insularity to be given a perspective.

Strange the rooms we’ve all lived in composed a complex body of work with multiple media interweaving the world of I was happy here and the artist’s. Beyond the sharing of a place, Desmond Davies’ film and O’Dwyer’s recovered memories have a common concern with the sensation of light and a certain affinity with words but maybe more crucially with what constitute a memory, how is a place or an impression remembered, how deluding memories can be and ultimately how and what construct an identity.

Michaële Cutaya 2009

circa see review online

Fiona O’Dwyer
The Courthouse Gallery, Ennistymon
18th sept to 19th October 2009

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Innovative exhibition traces time’s course
by Ros Drinkwater 04 October 2009

Not content with its allotted gallery space , Fiona O’Dwyer’s new exhibition wends its way throughout Ennistymon in Co Clare, making its mark in shop windows, in pubs and projected on gable end walls.

We expect our artists to think out of the box, but this is a particularly inventive and ambitious undertaking comprising photographs, drawings, prints, video/sound installations and archive material.

O’Dwyer’s starting point was the making of a film shot in Clare in 1965, I Was Happy Here, scripted by Edna O’Brien and starring Sarah Miles and Cyril Cusack.

She was drawn to it initially because of her interest in film making, but what really sparked her imagination is the impact the making of the film had on the local community, plus what it has left behind – props that can still be found in people’s homes, and places rendered exotic by the memory of their use as locations. There are few more potent ghosts than those left behind by a film unit.

The exhibition’s title references a wooden set used in the film, stored in a shed for 40 years and now relocated to O’Dwyer ’s garden. This prompted her to consider her own autobiography, and she began to insert herself retrospectively into the film, constructing new props from her own collection of family objects.

Only an artist would wonder if the world was the same colour back in the 60s, and O’Dwyer explores the notion in a series of images (etchings and projections) made by a laborious four-colour intaglio etching process.

The end result is thought-provoking, invigorating, a fitting tribute to the talents of O’Brien, Miles, et al – and beautifully summed up by the film’s US title, Time Lost and Time Remembered.

Strange The Rooms We’ve All Lived In, new multimedia works by Fiona O’Dwyer, Courthouse Gallery, Red Couch Space, and various locations around Ennistymon, Co Clare, until October 19, www.fionadwyer.com.

This story appeared in the printed version of the Sunday Business Post Sunday, October 04, 2009

http://archives.tcm.ie/businesspost/2009/10/04/story44701.asp
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