Stories, Research & Projects
While our culture prides itself on ancient stories and songs, much of the communal oral tradition has been neglected today in favour of an online network that we are continuously co-creating together with a ‘global community’ of internet users.
There is something anachronistic about listening, undistracted and quiet, to a song being performed live in a room. Indeed, a formal concert is becoming quite an old-fashioned way of enjoying music. It is a ritual, protected by tradition and by imagined boundaries and customs. These rules protect the music and preserve the performance space. Performers and venues must adapt to the habits of the audience, but then again, venues and performers can choose to some degree who the attract – using publicity shots and branding to weed out the people who might just spoil the show by talking or filming throughout.
In Ireland, the traditional seisiún amhráin is a pretty out-dated scenario. Maybe it always was. However, to enjoy music and literature with nothing but the human voice is as ancient as communication itself.
It is rare for young people anywhere in Ireland to gather in a technology-free zone, absent of sound systems, televisions, or mobile phones. Therefore, there is one series of non-verbal symbols that connects all of us online: binary code. As we hack a complex combination of 0s and 1s on a daily basis, we might be excused for claiming we have mastered another, new language; one that our ancestors could fathom only as science fiction. For all the complicated mathematical systems humans have conjured, binary code has broadened the horizons of modern technology.
Against this background, anyone who participates in a traditional song session is deciding to participate in something old, absent of binary code. It could perhaps be described as primitive. It is a conscious, or subconscious, act of preservation of an ancient form of art. Maybe it could even be seen as a political act.
While driving to Malahide (where I work at Fingal Academy of Music) today, I came across Heed Fm. I didn’t understand what it was at first. I heard a candid conversation between two people, the apparent interviewee sounded like a young man in his early 20s. It was very raw, unedited, long silences, swear words. This was daytime radio.
I looked it up online: “Heed FM is a twenty-eight-day anonymous sound portrait created through one-to-one and group conversations in Dublin with people aged 18–25 and from all backgrounds.” The project is committed to creating an authentic representational portrait of a generation residing in the Greater Dublin Area. Heed FM worked with over 100 subjects, which it calls “contributors”, from all backgrounds – some are users of social services and organisations in the fields of homelessness, mental health, and addiction.
The project said: “it is important to have an accurate portrayal of how this demographic normally communicates, beyond the limited way it is currently represented through mainstream media”. Minimal editing was employed to record “the most genuine possible representation of the conversations”.
One of the questions that was raised to this young man was about his Irishness. He had moved to work in New Zealand, and he was asked how he felt about being away from Dublin and about his identity as an emigrant. It was interesting that he felt that there was nothing unique about the idea of Irishness. With the majority of media consumed by young people (arguably by anyone under the age of 50) coming from the United States of America, it is perfectly reasonable to suggest that we are more influenced by American culture than by Irish culture. The vast majority of Irish citizens are presented with USA politics much more often than they may read an article about domestic policy drawn up in the Dáil.
Regarding the ridiculous Presidential race taking place in the USA this year, it is a curious time to be an English-speaker. Along with Australians, New Zealanders, Britons and Canadians, Irish people are expected to engage with the democratic process of a foreign country as if it were its own. Is that not strange? Do USA politicians exercise more power of Irish citizens than their own TDs? It is clear that power is a clear and apparent indicator of capital – whether it be political, economic, cultural or social.
Tonight, I attended a workshop in sean nós singing. We sang a song called Éamonn an Chnoic. According to the sources most readily available through Google, the song describes a man called Éamonn Ó Riain (c.1670-c.1724). He was apparently considered to be the ‘Robin Hood’ of east Limerick and west Tipperary. He was sent to France to study in pursuit of the priesthood, but instead he returned and fought for the Williamite forces. Following the confiscation of Irish catholic land in the Act of Settlement 1652 after the Cromwellian conquest of Ireland, many dispossessed catholic landowners took to the forests and hills of rural Ireland to wage war against the British Crown forces. They were known as “raparees”.
Storytelling – whether through song or otherwise – is a reflection of a community’s shared myths and heritage. Is there anything separating the stories, the myths, the cultures of young Americans compared to young Irish people? Of course there is.
However, the storytelling tradition in Ireland is obscured to a frightening degree by the contemporary media. The cultural appreciation of Irish literature and art is weak compared to American cultural self-appreciation. The USA is a source of wealth. Within a capitalist system, producers/creators of services or products are drawn towards wealth. So it is more economically viable to indulge in American cultural practices. Ireland has hardly any indigenous cultural capital; very little that can translate into money anyway. Ireland’s successful industries today are largely imported. The industries that remain intact and successful to some extent are inevitably exported – especially cultural products. And to where are they exported? Largely to Irish America.
If it is possible to remove the modern concept of capital from our judgment – replacing a 21st century value system with another, more traditional one – maybe it is possible to appreciate the Irish culture at a higher level. Listening to Irish voices through a project such as Heed FM might be a way for us to access ourselves, rather than tuning into foreign accents, speaking about familiar but foreign concerns. It is no surprise that the accents of young Irish people are homogenising. It is no wonder at all.
Tonight, Eithne Ní Chatháin sang Éamonn an Chnoic to a small room of listeners. Yes, there was a transaction (we paid for the class). But was there something else happening? Another transaction? Maybe Eithne’s form of storytelling – an sean nós (the old way) – arguably one of the only ‘indigenous’ art forms still active on this island – just maybe it is preserving something invaluable.
If we could view our own cultural practices in this way, as something timeless, something priceless, then we could develop an appreciation of our heritage that straddles the old and the new. Without this, money talks. And only the valuable remains in a capitalist world. And it looks like that’s where we’re headed.
Written by Michael George Crawford from Warrenpoint. First published by V. G. Havern [Warrenpoint] and printed by Outlook Press [Rathfriland] in “Legendary Stories of The Carlingford Lough District (1913)”
Adapted by Dónal Kearney (2016)
North of the Clonallon Road in Warrenpoint rises the Hill of Jenny Black. It is named after an infamous old witch who dwelt there in the days when the dark arts held sway, when certain women were suspected of being in league with the demon. They were thought to have the evil eye and conjured spells to the injury of humankind. Every accident that happened was the suspected actions of a witch.
To the credit of the people of Ireland, it must be said that they took no part in the cruel torturing and murdering of persons suspected of witchcraft, which disgraces nearly every country in Ireland to this day. There was a statute passed by the British in Ireland against witchcraft. It wasn’t until the Witchcraft Laws were repealed by King George II that the ancient dames breathed freely once more after the long reign of terror and persecution against them. One might ask: where are they all now?
Jenny Black resided at the top of Clonallon Hill and she was held in the greatest terror by those believers in the dark arts.
She was generally seen sitting in her cabin at the wheel, spinning and weaving diabolical spells and charms in the usual manner of witches. Her black cat would blink at the fire in the grate, in the usual manner of black cats. It is said that her cat would talk to Jenny Black in front of visitors, until they fainted or fled with fright.
At this time, the hills of Clonallon were covered with dense woods, believed to be inhabited by evil spirits, devils, hobgoblins. The local folk would give these woods a wide berth after dark. Jenny Black was long noted for playing tricks upon nocturnal wanderers; she appeared in frightful shapes and would swoop down on them to tear or jostle them about the road.
One dark night, two farmers were returning from the town with their horses and carts. When they met the hill, Jenny was just alighting off her broomstick. The horses were not acquainted with Jenny’s particular form of travel – they bolted and galloped wildly back down the steep hill. At the bottom of the hill, the horses collided and sent their owners flying off the carts, headfirst to the ground. The horses, wild with fear, then trampled the men and killed them where they lay.
On another occasion, the witches fair and devils gay were enjoying an evening’s entertainment in the wicked woods of Clonallon when they were disturbed by a farmer of the name O’Hare. Slightly under the influence of the uisce bheatha, and spirited by his indulgences, O’Hare boldly faced Jenny’s assembled guests. He was not in the least bit cowed by their numbers and horrible appearance. Stepping unsteadily forward, he challenged the whole condemned lot to fight him. Looking around and smiling at each other, the beasts fell upon him with teeth and nails, tore at this flesh and beat him over the head with their limbs.
Jenny Black, cleverly manoeuvring the broomstick, swept down from the air like a hawk, lifted him out of the woods and sailed through the skies towards the lough. Halfway to Carlingford, Jenny dropped the unfortunately O’Hare far into the dark waters below, where he sank and remained below the surface. The farmer O’Hare’s sad fate kept local folk from meddling in the devil’s business any more. They spoke of Jenny Black in a more respectful manner after that.
One night, a couple of teenagers went out hunting started a hare on the witch’s hill. Their dogs gave chase to the hare, which ran round the hill, doubling and twisting back on its own tracks. The youths noticed that the dogs were not too anxious to get in close on the seeming hare, and they became suspicious of the animal. They called the dogs off – at that moment, the hare turned into the withered and naked old witch known as Jenny Black.
The dogs yelped with fright and the boys were petrified. The witch then cast a spell on them, led them into a chamber in the hill, which was filled with people older than the witch herself. They lured the young fellows round a cauldron that was swirling wildly. The others were throwing strange herbs into the seething pot, and the boys knew instantly that they were in the presence of witches and wizards.
Jenny Black then forced the boys into a dance, their partners being two of the ugliest witches of the company (which was saying a lot!). For hours they were trapped in that mad whirl. The sweat rolled off them, their heads were light and dizzy with the crazing dancing. They minds swam and their bodies ached, but still they were compelled to jig. They realised that the hags were dancing them to death, revelling in the energy of their souls, dripping them dry through the medium of dance.
When they were near their last gasp, one of the lads remembered he had a small witch-hazel stick in his pocket. Witch-hazel was said to possess the power to resist the spells of witches, if properly used. So he dipped into his pocket as subtly as he could – he made it part of his manic dance – and he touched his partner’s hand with the witch-hazel. With an awful shriek, she disappeared. He quickly danced around the room before the crowd could fathom what was happening and touched the rest of them with. Right enough, they all vanished and the boys escaped. However, their dogs had sadly become the party’s feast.
She often wandered the fields of Warrenpoint as a hare. She milked the poor farmers’ cows before the people were up in the morning – a common deviance of witches. On Hallows Eve, the witch and her evil companions concocted their strongest spells for the year ahead. To thwart her designs, the planters carried lighted candles through Clonallon’s woods, from eleven to midnight (the principal time of their operation). If the lights burned steady and clear, the people would triumph over the witches in the year ahead. However, if the light blew out while they were in the woods, the locals would be subjected to the witch’s power for the ensuing year.
Eventually, the local folk burned Jenny Black at the stake. Since then, the woods of Clonallon were consumed by a purifying fire. Her old home was destroyed and the forested site of her evil deeds were levelled.
To this day, there are some who believe that Jenny Black still haunts her hill in the form of a white hare.
As gentle mists roll out the bay,
Like velvet lies Clonallon grey,
Jenny sang a haunting tune and
set her sights by the spotlight of the moon.
The women of the town,
they owe old Jenny more than they can know.
They men are leading timid lives
For on their antics she does not look light.
Upon the lough, a silhouette
Upon the lough, so cold and wet
And so they talk – “We’ll get her yet!”
And so they talk upon the lough.
Hunted like a witch from Hell
- before she died, she weaved a spell;
Clapped her palms and screamed until
the curse was cast on Jenny Black’s Hill.
To this day, she roams the fields;
An old, white hare – Away she steals!
That name still lingers on our ears
despite the passing of the years.
This piece was written as the final assignment of the Music & Social Action course with coursera.org and Yale University (USA) on 5 April 2016.
On the island of Ireland – both Dublin and Belfast specifically – political conflicts remain regarding the acceptance and tolerance of certain groups (eg. migrants). I see xenophobia and social exclusion as problem both socially and politically in my community.
Artists, as citizens, can make a positive contribution to society by organising and creating spaces where more cultures are shared. There are many people who are not touched or included by mainstream activities. I see a potential role for artists in working with migrants, refugees, Travellers, and/or other groups to facilitate the expression of that community’s identity. If artists choose to work with under-represented groups, they can begin a process of community-making.
The Artist's role
As Dewey and Barnes expressed in their letters, art can be “soul-thrilling” and makes us pay attention for moments of beauty. It draws us into a different space, out of our daily lives. It takes us to a different way of feeling something. Often that feeling happens for no longer than a moment – but people hang onto those moments. This usually comes from an aesthetic experience; as Maxine Greene says in “Releasing the Imaginations”:
Aesthetic experiences require conscious participation in a work, a going out of energy, an ability to notice what is there to be noticed in the play, the poem, the quartet. Knowing ‘about,’ even in the most formal academic manner, is entirely different from constituting a fictive world imaginatively and entering it perceptually, affectively, and cognitively.
Art changes the way we participate in communities around us by expanding our understanding of what forms of participation are possible. It gives us a sense of control over our communities, so that we may imagine what it could be and then organise and mobilise people to make that happen.
So what can the artist achieve by working in the community? Greene writes that experiences with the arts can open us to new ways of seeing things. Our assumptions about the way life can be can fundamentally change. This “imaginative opening” comes as a result of “aware engagements”. Greene believed that “art allows people to write and rewrite their own lived words”.
“Community cannot be produced simply by rational formulation, nor by edict. Like freedom, it has to be achieved by persons offered the space in which to discover what they recognise together and appreciate in common. It ought to be a space infused by the kind of imaginative awareness that enables those involved to imagine alternative possibilities for their own becoming and the group’s becoming.”
As a performer, you are given a room, an audience. You are granted value in that context. People will listen to you, however momentarily, and then maybe take an interest in your performance, your ideas or your story. They may at least consider things they might not otherwise have contemplated.
The performer should not be a DISTRACTION to the music. If the performer is a persona – or a commodity – then the person in the audience may be discouraged from really listening – because of what the persona represents. Likewise, art is separated from the mass of people when physically located in a preserve of some kind.
One of the biggest challenges is actually getting people’s attention. So the artist must always be careful when relating to a pre-established community. As Austin Stewart has said, there is a distinction between performing ‘at’ the public instead ‘for’ the public. In the words of Oron Catts, the artist works as a ‘cultural producer’, producing sources of cultural life. Once it’s released into the wild, the artwork has its own life.
Art and Politics
As for this social or political role of the artist, Herbert Marcuse said that: “Art is committed to an emancipation of sensibility, imagination and reason”. Furtwangler famously said that art and politics have nothing to do anything to do with each other. However, Marcuse also said that, the more immediately political the artwork, the more it reduces the power of estrangement and the radical transcendent goals of change. Transformation doesn’t mean a rejection of the world, but instead might demonstrates to a person that the world is plastic, is malleable, is open to change and is open to their presence.
Oron Catts argues that art is more powerful when it is ambiguous. This way, you force the audience to be challenged by the issues rather than by your opinions as the performer. When you become too literal, so that they know what you think, then the audience addresses you as a person, your opinions, and they don’t address the issues.
A suitable model of artistic action might be resistance and critique. Resistance means, rather than reforming or improving (because this is often impossible to gauge without hindsight), we can only resist with good intentions. Resisting something we disagree with, in an active yet peaceful manner, is the very basis of democratic citizenship. You can also be “critical”. Rather than social activist/advocate, a critic is a very important role. Music/art can be a way to “depart” from the things you oppose. Bring people together with you in peaceful opposition.
“I love America more than any other country in this world, and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually." - James A. Baldwin (Notes on a Native Son, 1955)
Art can provide a space and the freedom to say unpopular things or the freedom to say beautiful things, that perhaps have ‘no point’. Indeed, artists don’t have to sign a dotted line that claims that what they do is real or true. They can claim to be doing one thing and actually accomplish another thing.
Greene discusses how Dr Martin Luther King Jr’s “I have a Dream” speech made visible an abstraction (rather than a reality), but also made visible the faces of particular people in the minds of the listener. Artists can provide the imagination to move beyond the actuality/reality, taking us to a point where we feel better equipped to act. An artist’s vision can provide us with evidence, or language, or belief that had not yet existed. With this new resource, we are better positioned to do something. In MLK’s example, Americans in the 1963 could listen to the conviction behind MLK’s words, his utter faith, and believe that this new reality might indeed be possible.
Many believe that, if you’re motivated by social activism, it’s not just your practice – it’s what you do everyday and it’s how you feel about everything. Just like art. Dublin artist Emily Robyn Archer has said: “Philosophically, art should birth an idea of a new world… Individual artworks are tiny increments of that happening… I hope for someone to think about something they’ve never thought about before even though that might not seem like an ambitious target”.
Art gives people a voice
When people feel like they don’t have the knowledge or the speciality to comment on something, to have their opinion heard, it’s important to help them do so – to reach out to venues outside the gallery space, to connect with communities.
“The arts are not for the privileged few, but for the many. Their place is not at the periphery of daily life, but at its centre. They should function not merely as another form of entertainment, but, rather, should contribute significantly to our well-being and happiness – John. D. Rockafeller III.
Jane Jacobs advocated for the enlivening that arts organisations can bring to an area. Cities were successful when they stimulate informal street-level interactions, creating a “feeling for the public identity of people”, a web of public respect and trust, and a resource in times of great community need.
We want to encourage citizens to become curious about other people in their city, rather than fearful. We want people to feel more connected. You don’t have to climb out of your community to make it awesome! You don’t have to go somewhere that doesn’t belong to you. You are the creators of your own place. Art isn’t defined by some other community – you can be the drivers of that. Arts exist in every neighbourhood! It’s happening – they just need space and materials. It’s happening in people’s bedrooms, in basements, in alleyways. Initially, Pablo Casals thought that the music scene in Barcelona was not representative of how much talent and creativity was in the city! So he took action!
Ai Weiwei, the infamous Chinese dissident artist, has said: “I think my stance and my way of life is my most important art… I want to prove that the system is not working. You can’t simply say that the system is not working. You have to work through it… As an artist, you see different forms and different ways; to find a new way of communication and reach out.”
A lot of artists have totally isolated themselves emotionally and physically from society. This is where their art comes from and it is interesting and important because it is a reaction to something within that society – it’s perhaps a statement that this particular artist feels like her society is unworthy of respect/tolerance. It gives the audience a new perspective; an outsider's perspective. That is a political and social action in itself, albeit an individualistic one.
"Humanity is the goal"
Art and community are inextricably linked. The art we make is informed by the place where we are, the community we’re in. And vice versa: there is an imprint on public life because of the activity and the process of being an artist in a community. Artistic projects are often a response to some cultural behaviour or trope. In turn, art influences culture because it’s what we see in the streets, it’s what we listen to in our bedrooms, it’s what we read on the bus. Indeed, Bronislaw Huberman said: “The true artist does not create art as an end in itself. He creates it for human beings. Humanity is the goal”.
For Daniel Barenboim of the West Eastern Divan Orchestra said: “Within the communion of the orchestra, people can open themselves to each other.” Instead of making an overt political statement with the music, Barenboim said that the music-making process creates a setting in which people can engage directly and peacefully with the issues: the orchestra “is, of course, unable to bring about peace. It can, however, create the conditions for understanding, without which it’s impossible even to speak of peace. It has the potential to awaken the curiosity of each individual to listen to the narrative of the other and to inspire the courage necessary to hear what one would prefer to block out.”
Of the orchestra, Edward Said commented: “strange though it may seem, it is culture generally, and music in particular, that provide an alternative model to identity conflict… Ignorance is not a strategy for sustainable survival… The art of playing music is the art of simultaneously playing and listening, one enhancing the other... This dialogical quality inherent in music was our main reason for founding the orchestra… Separation between people is not a solution for any of the problems that divide us, and ignorance of the other certainly provides no help whatsoever.”
Jazz pianist and composer, Vijay Iyer talks about performance as an opportunity to be present with others: “Everyone becomes an equal participant in that respect. It therefore opens a possibility for community.” When we gather, we have an opportunity to think about who’s there, who isn’t, and why. And what dynamics are in the room that link us. And also what separates us.
It is this sentiment (reiterated by so many of the specialists in this course) that I think is important for me as an artist – as a performer and as a community music education professional. To paraphrase Iyer, performance is a service. It’s about community and collaboration, about connecting with each other in a human sense and sharing a common experience. The artist cannot impact on people’s behaviour – the artist can only influence the minds of those people who engage with the artwork.
The revolutionary values of creativity
Brazilian educationalist Paolo Freire said that a “humanist, revolutionary educator… must be imbued with a profound trust in people and their creative power”. In Freire’s problem-posing teaching format, the teacher presents the material to the students for their consideration, and reconsiders her earlier considerations as the students express their own… [P]eople develop their power to perceive critically the way they exist in the world with which and in which they find themselves; they come to see the world not as a static reality, but as a reality in process, in transformation.”
Therefore, the teacher is not presenting something finished; there is always something to discover by the learners, together.
So, by entering a classroom, not expecting students to acquiesce, the teacher has to respect what the student might bring to the teacher, and realise that the students’ thoughts/reactions may be much more valuable to them in their everyday life than what the teacher is trying to impart. The knowledge of the teacher is not more important than the student’s experience. Where a teacher demonstrates excitement and passion, energy and enthusiasm, this might be the most valuable lesson in music education.
As well as these values, a starting point for any artist hoping to combat social exclusion through community arts practice might be the idea of TOLERANCE. Freire said that “being tolerant is not being naïve. There is an ethical, political duty to be tolerant. But it does not demand me to lose my personality.” Tolerating difference in society, in democratic governance is highly important to art.
Art provides for creative spaces in which we can experience something different/new in a safe space. Music has a temporal, performative quality. To experience it, people have to be captive at the same time. This is where a lot of the power lies.