Fern O’Carolan talks to Phillip Edward Spradley
Portrait of Fern O’Carolan. Photo by Sirui Mai. Courtesy of the artist.
Institutional disciplines and “traditional” gender roles are constantly under appraisal. Through introspection or being extrospective, the life lived can be assessed and reassessed with a new lens of understanding. To revolt against these institutions is to create your own education, community, and culture. Fern O’Carolan has taken her rich cultural history, personal values, and intrigue to find amusement within “classic” social structures.
O’Carolan was born and grew up in North Dublin; she currently lives and works in London. Her artworks challenge the aesthetics of femininity and feminism and demonstrate how the language and imagery used in these worlds can empower or exclude women, allow for assembly or separation, and stifle or inspire.
Early in her life, O’Carolan had a tendency to collect and archive: playthings as a child, concert ephemera, letters from a boyfriend. She creates artwork that recreates memories and atmospheres that are personally significant. Through assemblage and investigations, O’Carolan has realized that these time capsules are not only remarkable to her but also to others who have shared the sentiment of a life lived.
O’Carolan studied printmaking at Gray’s School of Art, Scotland, and received an MA in fine art from Chelsea College of Art, London. She has exhibited at SCREW Gallery, Leeds; The Bomb Factory, London; PLOP Residency, London; Slugtown, Newcastle upon Tyne; NO Gallery, New York; and WASTE!, London.
Sasha, 2023. Textiles, faux leather, metal rings, and stainless steel nails. 110 x 80 cm. Courtesy of the artist.
Phillip Edward Spradley: Can you share your experience of growing up in a rural area that was informed by church and religion and how you became interested in the iconography that surrounds it?
Fern O’Carolan: I grew up in the city center of Dublin, alternating between there and a country house my parents owned in Co Kilkenny. We used to visit there every weekend and I remember being filled with dread every time we had to visit. The house was eerie and dark, we had no cable tv and were surrounded by nothing but empty fields (the house was so haunted and the history of this house is crazy).
Coming from the city to literally the middle of nowhere as a kid I remember it feeling so jarring, to go from somewhere so lively to a place so tranquil and still. As the house was an old building, my parents would spend the majority of the time renovating it and as there were no phones back then I would find fun the old fashioned way. I’d wander about the fields, see baby lambs be born and would just walk forever in hope to find something somewhat interesting.
Adorable, 2023. Velvet, metal connectors, ball chains, faux leather, stainless steel nails. 140 x 106 cm. Courtesy of the artist.
In Ireland there are a lot of old ruins, maybe not so much anymore but back then it was super common. Farmers would buy land which would often have an old cottage attached and because they just needed the land itself the houses would just be left to rot. There was one near the house I used to go to all the time, it was a literal time capsule and looked as though it was just abandoned. Family photos above the fireplace, the table was set, clothes left to dry, this house was from the 1800’s and nobody had touched anything or been back to it for 50+ years easily judging by the era of items placed.
Adorable (detail), 2023. Courtesy of the artist.
One room in particular was filled to the brim with iconography (I could never go upstairs because the staircase was rotten all the way through) but yeah there was a massive wooden panel painting/print of Jesus and like a candle holder in front so you can pray to it as though you were in mass. This is super common back home, going into a house with iconography everywhere isn’t something I wasn’t used to but there was something about seeing this giant image weathered, rotting and falling apart within this isolated environment that stuck with me. After then I started to fixate on the semiotics of these repetitive images I would see on a daily basis. That uncertainty as a child is hard to describe and hasn’t left.
It was from you that I learned and understood the visual connection between the references to 90s charm jewelry and the amulets in religions that are an ode to individuality, with interchangeable charms and talismans that express beliefs, celebrate passions, and capture memories. How do you view this close relationship and its adaptation?
For me the connection between charm jewelry, amulets, iconography etc just clicked, it’s just another form in which we let our beliefs known on a visual basis. Conditioning through school textbooks probably had more of an impact on me without realizing, graphics of praying hands and photographs of smiling young women were super prevalent in the 90’s. Whether it’s a band shirt or a chain of rosary beads, regardless if you are into it or not, it’s self expression. Through the observation of iconography over time, I see no difference between these and other cultural signifiers.
Adorned, 2023. Velvet, metal connectors, ball chains, faux leather, and stainless steel nails. 134 x 80 cm. Courtesy of the artist.
Your artwork is very tactile. There’s a lot of process; a hand of making is seen throughout. You embrace the “craft process,” which assists you in playing on the aesthetics of femininity while also taking a serious subject and making it animated and accessible. How did you make these initial connections, and when did you discover this process to be personally successful for you?
The emphasis on being “practical” within the household was super prevalent throughout school so sewing is something I am just used to doing. I’ve always applied this method to my practice in various ways as it’s reliable and applicable to most materials. In art school I studied printmaking and the paper was £5 a sheet, I couldn’t afford that so I would go to household stores, second hand stores, hardware stores and find other non conventional materials to print on, as someone who collects and has always used collage in my work it just made sense. There was a stage in my practice where I completely flipped everything around and was painting for a bit, the love for the paint just wasn’t there and I was like what the f*** am I doing…. That was a really bad time, to sit there in your studio and be like “this is bad”. Everyone needs and should have an ego death, that for sure was mine.
Installation shot, chloé (with an i), Slugtown, Newcastle upon Tyne, 2023. Courtesy of the artist.
Blossom, 2023. Quilted faux leather, faux leather, yarn, hair bow, teddy bear fringing, love heart diamonds, wadding, stuffing. 110 x 100 x 35 cm. Courtesy of the artist.
A few months later we went to a pop up show at a concept store in Manchester, it didn’t have a name or anything but it was just a room filled with 80’s jackets, graphic t-shirts, photographs etc curated like a mini solo. I found all of the elements collaged together on the walls unconventionally really interesting. After that I made “You Are So Special To Us” and everything I had been trying to do materially and conceptually just began to mesh.
You pull imagery from many sources and collage it to make very complex and vividly colored sculptures that hold the nostalgic quality of a life lived. How would you describe your process of selection with such a deep well of resources and inspirations? Additionally, are there loose guidelines or strict parameters that you work within?
The imagery comes from distorted memories, like a weird dream you wake up from and can’t fully remember what happened but you remember specific signifiers within them? The only strict parameters I work within is to only use images and scans from primary sources, I’ve scanned a lot of the magazines I own and choose from there. Old blogs are amazing as well, it’s crazy to see how people would just upload folders of images regardless of how personal the situation/s.
You Are So Special To Us, 2022. Safety pins, 1940s photograph, latex prints, canvas, pleather, lacquer, rope, hair bow, crucifix, grommets, lock keyring, split rings, and enamel paint. 157 x 53 cm. Courtesy of the artist.
Can you share something you are in the process of creating or that you are currently looking at closely?
Recently, I have revisited a book called The Lonely Doll (1957) written by Dare Wright- a book gifted to me when I was seven. The book consists of black and white staged photographs of Edith (the doll), I remember this really stunning me as a child, both in their uncanny appearance and preceptable sexual undercurrent. The book shows a young woman in the 1950’s attempting to use objects to tell stories, something I have been looking more closely at within my own practice. Themes of childhood and loneliness draw me to Dares narrative, the idea of creating a fantasy world to escape the complexities of the world around us. Currently, I am in the process of bringing together disparate elements of my practice with the intention of re-creating fantasy scapes traversing my own experience of oppression.
You’ll Never Get To Heaven, No Gallery, New York; 2023
To learn more about Fern O’Carolan, follow her on Instagram at @xfernocarolanx