JOANNE LAWS INTERVIEWS EILIS O’CONNELL ABOUT THE EVOLUTION OF HER PRACTICE OVER FIVE DECADES.
Joanne Laws: Perhaps you could start by outlining the environment and appetite for sculptural practice in Ireland in the late 70s, as you graduated from Crawford School of Art and Design?
Eilis O’Connell: There was a passion and intensity for sculpture in those days. I remember a show called ‘OASIS’ (Open Air Show of Irish Sculpture) and annual exhibitions like Living Art and Independent Artists. I first exhibited my work as part of The Irish Exhibition of Living Art in 1972. Can you believe that I was so brazen, to put my work into a national show when I was only in second year of art college? We were encouraged by John Burke to submit work and that experience was brilliant; it gave me confidence. There were a lot of talented people around but sadly many of them emigrated. There was nothing to stay for; it was very tough. I know artists complain nowadays about having no space, but it was absolutely dreadful in the 70s and 80s. You just accepted that you had to work in some old, freezing, derelict building. Property had no value so it wasn’t maintained, but on the plus side, you could rent places fairly cheaply. Lots of people emigrated during the recession and didn’t come back. I eventually emigrated in the late 80s.
JL: You were a cofounder of the National Sculpture Factory in Cork. How did this come about?
EC: I worked with Vivienne Roche, Maud Cotter, and Danny McCarthy on securing a studio for sculptors in Cork city in the mid to late 80s. I was a member of the Arts Council for two years previously and made them aware of the lack of studio space in the city, that was written into policy and funding was allocated. So, it was just a matter of finding a building. The old tram depot on Albert Road in the city centre was ideal, but it took a long time to get the project off the ground. Maud, Vivienne and Danny did most of the work, as by that time I was based in London.
Around this time, there was a public backlash to one of my public artworks, The Great Wall of Kinsale (1988), which was just a nightmare, so I decided to leave Ireland. I moved to London by myself with basically nothing. Then I got the PS1 residency, so I went to New York, where I met a woman from Delfina Studios, who was asking if anybody wanted a free studio in London. I applied and got a free studio for two years which was a stroke of luck. Delfina was brilliant and really supportive; during the two years, I had four open studios, which was a great way of meeting people.
I then began to apply for public art commissions in the UK. Strangely enough, the Kinsale piece ended up being my saving grace and opened doors for me; the opportunities just flowed. I won a competition for Cardiff Bay Arts Trust, Secret Station (1992), a sculpture in patinated bronze and galvanized steel. I did another one in Milton Keynes, The Space Between (1992), in bronze and fibre optics, and another for the London Docklands Development Corporation. I was on a roll of winning competitions and thought it would never end. After a while, public art competitions became a big thing in England, with huge budgets, and people like Anthony Gormley going for them. Those were really exciting times.
JL: Speaking of Gormley, his Sculpture for Derry Walls (1987) had a very strong public reaction too. I think it was covered in graffiti and even had moulten plastic poured over it at one stage?
EC: Yes, one of the figures had burning tyres placed around its neck. Gormley had a great line about that; he said that the sculpture was “catharsis for the city” – something for people to vent all their anger on the piece. It’s made of cast iron, so it could take the abuse. In a way, it’s a perfect piece for that time and space.
JL: Your practice involves dual strands: public artworks that are often vast in size; and the sculptural objects you make on a more domestic scale. How do you approach this tension?
EC: I make everything small, even in preparation for something bigger, so I can solve all the problems on a small scale first. If you make a small version of something, it’s only a matter of scaling it up and engineering, which I do quite instinctively. I would prefer to just be working on big things all the time, but the only way to fund that is through commissions. The context of where and how a sculpture is placed is so important; it has to be allowed to create its own atmosphere.
JL: Dramatic variations in scale were also seen in your survey exhibition at VISUAL Carlow, which included a vast new commission for the Main Gallery. At over 21-metres in length, it’s possibly the largest sculpture I have ever encountered in a gallery in Ireland. What can you tell us about this work?
EC: I had a completely different plan for that show, but Benjamin Stafford (Visual Arts Curator at VISUAL) saw a piece in my garden, Capsule for Destinies Unknown, which I had made for a contemporary sculpture exhibition in England called ‘ARK’ in 2017. I thought of the ark as a symbol of refuge at a time when so many refugees were crossing the Mediterranean Sea and tragically drowning. The original piece is asymmetrical and is bolted into concrete outside, so I came up with an idea to make a second version that would be symmetrical, in order to balance. Capsule for Destinies Unknown – series two (2024), comes apart in three pieces. It held the main space in VISUAL perfectly; the width of the space is great, so it was interesting to deal with it diagonally. The viewer had to walk around the piece and were forced to really look at it.
JL: How do you sell your work?
EC: I show with a gallery in London and with Solomon Fine Art in Dublin, so they kind of keep me going. And then I have my sculpture garden – an acre of land surrounding my studio at The Creamery in Cork. It was a concrete jungle when I first got it, and I’ve spent a lot of time re-landscaping, planting trees, and levelling out areas. It is all hills and I have learnt so much from placing the sculptures, moving them around, seeing how one piece affects the others, and so on. People make appointments to visit, and I have open studio days, and that is how I sell the big pieces.
JL: That sounds very DIY.
EC: Oh, it’s pure DIY. The only way to survive as a sculptor is by doing things myself. Nobody’s going to come and do it for you; it’s a lot of work, maintaining the sculptures and keeping them looking pristine. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by my studio with literally 50 years of work stored in there. I keep things that I value, but I do have clear-outs from time to time. I still have a 40ft container full of stuff from my Douglas Hyde show in the 80s. They’re pieces I spent months making, and it’s really hard to know what to do with them.
JL: What are you working on at the moment?
EC: I’m doing a piece for Wilton Park in Dublin which is an homage to the pioneering Irish writer, Mary Lavin, who wrote for The New Yorker and other publications. In a world of male writers, she was really ahead of her time. I decided to cast a biomorphic piece in mirror polished stainless steel, which is a really difficult process. Few artists use this medium, so I just wanted to see if I could do it. We’ve done a test piece and so far, it’s brilliant. I’m making it in Spain and Greece. I used to do a lot of my commissioned work in Britain with good fabrication companies and foundries but with Brexit, this is now impossible.
JL: What do you think are the challenges for Irish sculptors?
EC: In a word, space. There’s a lack of space to show contemporary art on a large scale. Access to affordable studios and housing are massive issues for artists in Ireland right now, but perhaps housing more so. Looking on the bright side, the digital world has made it possible to be creative with no studio but for a sculptor it is imperative to have a dedicated space for simply messing around, learning how to use tools, and develop skills. That haptic element is crucial; there is something very satisfying about making something by hand from scratch.
JL: To conclude, what can you tell us about your materials and values as a maker?
EC: Well fundamentally, I just love making things. I’ve always got about 20 things on the go. In an ideal world, I’d be in my studio making things all day long, but that’s not realistic. I have to deal with emails and collaborations, which can take away from one’s personal creative time. I like the social aspect of collaborating – it keeps my mind open to new possibilities and processes.
I used to make everything myself in steel but to be honest, I’m beyond that now. I don’t want to spend every day grinding metal; it’s a really hard way to make things. I still use steel occasionally for armatures and things, but now I use Jesmonite; it is a very versatile medium that you can pour or use like clay. I’m very curious about new materials. I worked with resin for ages and eventually decided that I hate it; resin looks beautiful but it’s toxic as hell. The thing about sculpture is that no matter what materials you use – wood, stone, concrete, plaster – the dust is hazardous. I switch materials because I like learning new things. The last thing that I want to do is repeat myself.
I’m fascinated by the structure and longevity of materials. Good materials are sustainable and the great thing about metal is that it has value, so it is recycled. Some of my small pieces get translated into stone and that has been another learning curve. Things that I make in metal cannot be made in stone simply because stone has no tensile strength, so it is hard to defy gravity. I have learnt to respect its weight while trying to remove as much material as possible from the block. Stone and bronze are so resilient. When buried for 3000 years, bronze will come up even more beautiful, with a patina that’s slightly etched. I love the fact that a metal or stone sculpture will outlive me.
Eilis O’Connell is an artist based between Cork and Kerry. ‘In the Roundness of Being’ was presented at VISUAL Carlow from 17 February to 12 May 2024.
eilisoconnell.com
