Sailing somewhere, perhaps Byzantium
Sketches for a review of Niamh Barry's latest evocation of queer life in Dublin
Niamh Barry is among the most significant queer artists working in Dublin today. She may also prove to be one of the more consequential. Not merely because her art engages with issues of perennial importance to queer people, but because she has managed to capture in the aperture of her camera the quotidian reality of what it is to be a queer person living in Dublin today – an experience defined by a rich sense of community, for many, but also one of profound uncertainty as prevailing economic and social circumstances make the achievement and maintenance of communal solidarity all the more important. She offers a repertoire that deftly grounds the abstract in the particular; a series of works that extrapolate from a small world the deepest questions of queer life, identity, and love. Barry brings an acute sensibility to bear on her subjects, one as cognisant of the obvious manifestations of queer sentiment and affection as of the liminal spaces that rest between, usually going unnoticed. This sets her apart in a Dublin milieu she has come to dominate: her appreciation for the subtlety of gesture and intention, and her focus on the invisible social constraints that can hinder queer people from actualising their desires and realising their hopes. Her ultimate purpose is to render these barriers conspicuous, thereby providing the grounds for us to transcend them.
This is the theme of her current exhibition, Interpersonally Queer, currently on display at the All my Friends pub on Meath Street in the Liberties. This marks the third instalment in an ongoing series. The first, 2020’s Queer Hearts of Dublin, marked an impressive debut, presenting in a series of portraits a collection biography of Dublin’s queer community, then wrapped in the throes of Covid and a profound anxiety engendered by the pandemic. Her second undertaking, No Queer Apologies, which debuted in February 2022 and was published as a book later in May, was comparatively more ambitious and confrontational. The impetus for it arose from the sharp escalation in homophobic and misogynistic violence that swept Dublin and Ireland during the winter of 2021-22. Ultimately, the project served as a call to action and to greater solidarity in the face of those pernicious social and political forces that would, if permitted, ‘sanitise’ or stifle legitimate queer expression.
Although essential in these troubling times, achieving such a form of communal solidarity is less than straightforward. The premise presuppose that all queer people are starting from the same position, that they may find communality purely in their ‘queerness’ – assuming there to be only one, totalising definition of queerness (of course not). Such an assumption belies the reality of our social conjuncture, wherein one’s class background, race, gender, or disability (including ‘hidden disabilities’, such as autism) hamper their efforts to integrate into a queer community; to acquire the sense of belonging and acceptance they both require and deserve. A meaningful form of queer solidarity may not be achieved until such divisions are identified and transcended. In this respect, the importance of Barry’s work becomes clear.
Interpersonally Queer presents a collective portrait, with an emphasis on collectivity that distinguishes it from her previous works: for it is only as a collective entity that the queer community can defend and assert itself. The portraits are sumptuous, ornate, and intimate, all caste in a roseate hue that compliments the joviality of the group portraits and renders uncanny the singular portraits. In the first category, we are presented with shots of friends getting breakfast on Capel Street, conversing on a south Dublin rooftop, with the turquoise dome of the Mary Immaculate church in Rathmines providing a backdrop, and housemates bonding over a mutual love of fashion within the narrow confines of their Dublin flat. These group portraits serve to illustrate what queer collectivity ought to resemble: cooperation underpinned by mutual affection. The remainder of the portraits seek to demonstrate the antimonies of the forgoing ideal. Two portraits distinguish themselves, in the beauty of their composure and the force of their affect. Both are set on dancefloors reminiscent of the 1980s: one crowded, the other deserted except for two people. Here, we see a queer girl throw a tentative glance of affection towards a straight girl who looks away, nonplussed. The stark simplicity of the composition, focusing our attention on these figures and the absence dividing them, makes the former’s remorse palpable, amounting to a powerful meditation on queer desire and its attendant hazards. Although set on a crowded dancefloor, the second portrait achieves something similar to the first. Our attention is drawn to two figures on opposing sides of the composition, their figures illuminated against a crowd caste in shadow, glancing at each another. Two former lovers, the manner of their dissolution effected their relative positions within the small world of Dublin’s queer community, setting one set of friends against another and sowing a general discord. None of this aides the cause of communal solidarity. Neither do internecine conflicts arising over class, gender, or race: these need to be reconciled in pursuit of a higher end.
One could accuse Barry of being less than forthright in her advocacy for queer solidarity. This, however, would be to misconceive the tenor of her art and the nature of her sensibility. Each of her projects mark a development, not only in presentation and execution but in purpose. In Interpersonally Queer, Barry lays out the groundwork for something new, supplanting her previous project having appropriated those components that serve her current purpose. Here, Barry is engaged in defining and clarifying the contradictions that currently hinder Dublin’s queer community. She is celebrating what we have, but urging us not to rest on our complacencies: there are barriers that prevent many from participating in a community that ought to be inclusive and accommodating. It is only in recognising and transcending these barriers that we can secure and improve what we already have. In any case, despite the rich achievement demonstrated in her work so far, we can rest assured that Barry’s most important work rests ahead.