Bulletin# Runaway Horse: Sale of Yeats’ Family Collection September 2017
The Irish State has the opportunity to stop the sale or to purchase the works of the Yeats Family. To create a new Museum or Gallery devoted to the exhibition, dissemination and public engagement of paintings, drawings, artefacts that tell the story of Irish modernism; Irish Independence; Irish women’s cultural production. This archive of material tells the story of Irish visual art and literature at its finest.
There is something to say in making this collection of artworks and their ancillaries in the form of photographs, letters, significant objects of furniture, not least the fact that of the Yeats paintings being offered on the open market will be available to leave Ireland forever: perhaps entering private collections out of access to the public. Among these paintings are astonishing works of joy; testimony to the power of art to uplift through times of political struggle towards permanent moments of epiphany. Such moments carry into our own times and out; the future of an international Ireland would be richer for the public presentation of these works as a museum and contemporary gallery, dedicated to the power of cultural language as foundational to the progression of a people. People as a nation; all those who were forced into exile; all those who have arrived; for its diaspora, visitors, guests; its future émigrés. Those who its people chooses to write to or listen to, to collaborate with. Such works would be in the investment of a future language based on common cultural experience and cultural possibility. The Irish people taking this collection for the country would be a power or sign of great political judgement; for a state to recognise that being founded on cultural energies and a state which at its outset included the importance of cultural presence and a new artistic vocabulary; and which drew on the ancient presence of a people and their island, that recognition, decided to make such works the centrepiece and emblem of a permanent public common and future. There are two titles among Yeats’ paintings that serve to make a point. One is ‘The Runaway Horse’: it is the child in the painting, his hair and the wilds of his body every colour known to the universe; the other is ‘This Sunset is Yours’: both catch and tune the uncertainty of time in ecstatic records of artistic energy. It would be tremendous, at this late moment, for the Irish government to recognise the importance of creative imagination as a mode of governance, which means custodianship on behalf of people towards what might become a part of the identity of the many. Something to share with those who are Irish, and to those who are not, a gift of the people from the people through the Irish state it elected to the future of Ireland and all its artists; to its guests and visitors; to future European and international generations who affiliate with Ireland’s artistic vision and celebrate its commitment to the arts.
Radio Rosario. A man waking, walking in Galway. Taking coffee in Berlin. Cycling into Connemara’s lost memories of a time before the old woman who remembers was born. Radio Rosario. A cigarette burns in time. Smoke disappears into the imagination of one who listens. Gone now. The radios that women carried from room to room; interior walls disappearing into the lives of others lived through the mystery and instructed routines of the air waves. The old leather seat abandoned; a prop in a theatre worn away by sounds of murder, mystery, songs that pass into racing horses and a dog or a duck that barks. He is now: in Galway; Clifden. A man drowns in the Corrib. Overdose. Life stands at the cross roads so precise; I have stood there too. That place where Myles Joyce hung; an intonation of sound that meant nothing to him. University Road. The Canal. The park entrance where the abandoned drink in the shadows of the islanders. So secure. Inside houses. Songs heard and watched through a distance of time that might be the colour of nostalgia. Radio Rosario. The clouds of Galway clear out the history of an illuminated swastika as the heron takes flight. When did the IRA blow it up? No trace now. As disappeared as the sound of a voice that travelled as far as any refugee stranded in Germany, Ireland; sitting alone in the rubble of that pavement or this river bank. She starts to transmit wireless messages: we are the audience who half understands her language; we know the names of the creatures she crosses worlds to reach in voice; in that outstretched arm reaching up holding herself for the time that’s in it.
Dissonant House, Artist Centre for Human Rights exhibition, Light Night Bluecoat, Liverpool Preview 19 May 2017
Bulletin # by Tim Maul
Bulletin # Manifesto Cacophony
We are inviting artists, writers, creative practitioners to write a clause in co-authorship towards a collective manifesto setting out an integrated democratic pan-global vision for the future out of the present. Artistic practice functions to produce latent potential energies and a new language-base for radical change at moments of political and democratic collapse in the political field.
Artists have languages in waiting for the things that have not yet found speech; for forms of dialogue that can not yet take place. This manifesto seeks to fabricate in spoken collectivity a directive for a new politics circumjacent to the stranded centre-stage of contemporary mainstream politics.
The ACHR will host and house the Manifesto Cacophony which will be a new model for living and thinking.
Each clause added will be anonymous but the manifesto will hold a list of contributors.