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N O S D R A H C I R E SHAN S T E O P E U G O R LUKA PALM
! L A I C E P S HOP T HE EYE IADT MAGAZINE
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So, this is it – the final issue of the Eye of the year, and the last of my tenure as editor. Over the last two years we have learned how to put together a magazine – sorting out printing and funding with a limited budget, arranging brainstorming meetings, putting together layouts, interviewing some of the most talented and interesting people within this college and distributing our efforts to every corner of the institute. It is a result that I am extremely proud of, and I hope it continues for many years to come. In this issue, we have interviews with two special past alumni – Niall Donnelly from the band Munky, who have just released their debut EP and are going to be hitting up Knockanstockan this summer, and former IADT student Rob Roche, who, along with his bandmate Timmy Nolan, comprise Long Island Sound, who have been a fixture on the Irish festival and club scene over the past few years. There will be hundreds of us in our final year who, in a few weeks, will be taking the next step into the adult world. These showcases of former students who have gone on to better things is illuminating – but we also have an article on the effect that the housing crisis has had and will have on our current generation, as well as articles on our reliance on alcohol, the pitfalls of content creation and the current movement for sustainable fashion. Also featured is Rachel Droop’s stunning photomontage work, which features on our cover, back-page and in her own dedicated section. Be sure to check her out on Instagram – you won’t be disappointed. Cheers IADT, it’s been a pleasure. Fionn
CONTRIBUTERS
EDITOR FIONN THOMPSON EVENTS EDITOR KATIE MALONE DESIGNER MICHAEL FORTUNE COVER RACHEL DROOP ‘Edinburgh Cover’
KATIE MALONE
KATIE MCCARTHY
NEIL WALSH
CHRISTOPHER O’FLAHERTY
AARON KAVANAGH MICHAEL FORTUNE
TS
CONTEN
N O S D R A H C I R E N A H S 04. M L A P A K U L 07. S T E O P E U G O R . 0 1 D A C N & T D A I 13. A E H S ’ O R E B M A N . A M 16 E R O F L A N O D 18. Y T E I X N A . 22 E D I V I D S U P M A C 23.
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E N SHA N O S D R A H C I R
Right now, a new generation of Irish artists
are reshaping the sound of the country. With the likes of Jafaris, Tebi Rex, SoulĂŠ, Kojaque, Celaviedmai and IADT student Luka Palm
influencing and moulding Irish hip-hop, we
are really experiencing a seminal moment for the scene as it undergoes something of an
uprising. With the large amount of creative,
young and talented artists that are coming of
age, the perception of what Irish music is, and what it can be, is changing and flourishing – along with its young generation.
Words: Katie Malone
Words: Katie Malone
“District magazine don’t care who I am or where I’m from, they just respect my music”
The Irish have historically been renowned for their way with words. With a nation acclaimed for its bardic poetry and Sean-nós, innovative literature with James Joyce and Oscar Wilde, and its highly regarded native trad, it is evident Ireland has always grown through musically poetic roots. Although Ireland has always been a creative hub for talent, it was quite a latecomer to the hip-hop scene. However, Irish rap has now arrived, with a huge array of diversity, and with its eclectic nature and lack of a singular definition or style it can be showcased as a mirror to the fluidity of contemporary Irish identity. In the last 20 years Ireland has morphed dramatically; the reminiscence of the economic crash is still visible, a large growth in immigration and multiculturalism has occurred for the first time and a rise in technology has made it easier to get access to an array of different sounds and genres. This has aided the popularity
of hip-hop, as it now centralises as one of the main genres of interest globally and in Ireland. The Irish festival line-ups have been the proof of this, majorly featuring hip-hop artist, with Longitude and Electric Picnic headlining some huge names in the business such as Kendrick Lamar, J Cole and Travis Scott. As for the Irish sound of hip-hop that is emerging, it is tough to classify. Socially conscious rap is common, with socio-political issues being a strong recurring undercurrent, showing itself in Kojaque’s Deli Daydreams. There is also a huge rise in the Afrobeat and R&B sound, with Soule and Jafaris producing rhythmic and melodic tracks that have been inspired by similar movements abroad. The sound of acoustic mellow bars is also evident in the scene, with dreamlike and instrumental fluidity that can be heard in up-and-coming artist Shane Richardson, whose melodic and poetic
tracks have been getting him a heap of recognition in recent times. Like most Irish artists in the hip-hop scene, Shane joins the new wave of hip-hop which is still emerging and building. A large amount of artists’ audiences in Ireland are built predominantly using social media and through YouTube. The lack of resources is a big barrier to entry, with the scarce amount that exists often being quite expensive. This is how Shane began, with the 22-year-old starting his music career in 2017 by releasing his first 6 tracks on YouTube. Shane spoke of how writing poetry and songs was something that had always been an outlet for him personally; he wrote his thoughts down on the notes on his phone, which were then crafted into his first EP – aptly named Notes. Shane was creating his work for himself on a personal level, but after showing some friends he decided to get the tracks formed and released. He credited his circle of friends who have
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helped shape his vision and have been a second ear – particularly FOZSA, another emerging artist who centres more on the instrumental and electronic scene. Shane has worked hard and taught himself how to produce music, ‘to make the sound I really wanted’. His first album on Spotify was called ‘State of Mind’, featuring eight tracks which showcase Shane’s eclectic sound that is both melancholic and mellow. When listening to Shane, a mixture of spoken word and acoustic hip-hop is evident, but Shane expressed the difficulty in classifying music under a specific heading, as ‘a lot of songs are different genres. One day I might feel like making a trap inflicted beat, the next day a mellow tune, I’m just going to do what I feel like at the time’. Intrinsic feelings of human emotion and coping with his own individual experiences are medial themes in Shane’s tunes, which could be influenced by him studying applied psychology here in IADT. A lot of Irish hip-hop at the moment expresses different insights into Irish life; with working class struggles and crime being a prominent theme, owing to most of the coming from the capital which tends to have larger levels of social and economic imbalances than the suburbs. Shane recognised this, saying ‘I just think being
true to what you live, they are speaking their truths and I respect that hugely and I appreciate that so much, I’m just gonna do the same’. His outlook on the Irish scene was refreshingly respectful and honest, as he focuses on his musical mantra being one based on ‘being true to what you live’. With his music featuring him rapping about emotions and anxieties, Shane’s music is an example of naturalising the feeling of being emotionally vulnerable and male. He spoke about this experience, saying ‘toxic masculinity, I’m trying to push that away, like if you feel a certain thing then deal with those things, the ups and downs’ and that he wants his music to be a message, and that anyone, including young males ‘can feel it too and that’s ok’. He recognises how males of his age can tend to repress any expression of their personal experiences of mental health issues due to the stigma surrounding it and masculinity. Shane is very down to earth and raw about his creative process: ‘I write that stuff for myself but if somebody can relate to it then that’s great, we’re both going through some shit and that’s alright’. Shane and his music have started to get noticed by different outlets, with District magazine listing Shane’s music
as a recommendation and adding him to their Irish hip-hop playlist on Spotify. Shane is grateful for this, saying how ‘District magazine don’t care who I am or where I’m from, they just respect my music and have given my music a great opportunity’. Upcoming artists such as Shane benefit greatly from plug-ins like that, because although Ireland is bringing out great talent, it can be very cliquey and difficult to break in. It’s a ‘who you know’ mentality due to our small island syndrome, but this has led to a number of grass root projects stemming from friendships leading to high quality collaborations and a network that is very supportive of each other such, as evidenced by the recent emergence of Softboy Records and their rising success. But through the entire process it is necessary to remind yourself why you got into it in the first place - ‘an important thing to always remember is to just have fun with it, don’t take it too seriously’. The Dublin night scene is notorious for clubs shutting down instead of opening, with the loss of The Twisted Pepper, Hangar and most recently District 8, which has led to a lack of creative spaces for artists to perform or for the audience to see performers live. Shane recommended Cleavage
“If somebody can relate to it then that’s great, we’re both going through some shit and that’s alright
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A K U L M L A P
HIP HOP
Words: Fionn Thompson
2018
was a breakout year for IADT student and rapper Luka Palm. Following on from his 2015 release Pink Lady – released when he was just 16 – the rapper hit new strides in 2018, releasing solo track San Pelly and collaborating with fellow Soft Boy Kojaque on Date Night and Politicksis, as well as performing live across Ireland and the UK, opening for the established Slowthai at his Dublin and London shows. The success of Luka is as much a testament to his talent as it is to the growing infiltration that hiphop is having on the Irish music scene. No longer the niche genre lying in the shadows for a chance to shine, hip-hop has unleashed its shackles, with a menagerie of talent sprouting from our capital and beyond. The usual suspects of techno and Harcourt St’s top 40s still reign supreme on any given weekend night, but hip-hop’s growing influence can be seen in the growth and success of alternative clubs such as the Sugar Club and the success of artist’s like Versatile, Rejjie Snow and Kojaque overseas.
The span between announcing himself to the scene with Pink Lady and his current resurgence has been almost three years – a long gap, but not surprising given his young age at the time. The two years following the release were quiet – ‘To be honest I wasn’t even taking music seriously back then at all - I was working on music like once a month. I did fuck all, I was surrounding myself with other artists all the time … I was just taking it all in. It was only about this time last year I started taking it seriously again’. 2018 proved to be the year when the wheels started turning, not only releasing more music but putting the plans in motion for new releases: ‘I’ve been grafting hard in 2018 so that I could release a lot this year … I’ll probably be releasing about 10 songs this year. I’ll be releasing my own project before the summer, so like April/May, then I have a few side projects that I’m working on with other artists. But then, before I drop my EP, I’m gonna be dropping a few singles to get some hype growing for the album.’ Not only has Luka increased his release
output, he has been performing live with increased regularity in recent times. Irish hip-hop has found continued support across the Irish Sea, and shows in the UK are quick to include Irish acts – and Luka is no different: ‘between October and December of last year, I think I played like four times in London, and with the tour with Kojaque I was opening for him in Manchester and stuff like that’. Not only is it a means to play to bigger crowds, it’s also a way of diversifying your audience, especially in the UK, with the massive hip-hop scene they have – ‘It’s definitely good for building up the international recognition but also building up the confidence of being around people who mightn’t have a clue who you are.’ And what of the crowd – is it mostly Irish emigrants or native English as well? ‘No, there’s definitely English people, but the Irish people are always the loudest people at the shows! They want to make it known that Irish people came out in London to see other Irish people. They’re proud of themselves for doing that, you know?’.
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“There’s the risk that the chilled out, funny, taking it easy buzz can go away. That’s what I know for a fact is people’s favourite part of Soft Boy
Our conversation naturally moves on to the Irish scene – the elephant in the room. Although growing, the limitations of the size and ambition of Irish hip-hop – and Irish nightlife in general – can be a strangling force on any rapper’s career. Luka agrees: ‘Dublin’s just not big enough.’ The size of Dublin and the old adage of “everyone knows each other” rings especially true in the hip-hop scene: ‘There’re these nights out in Dublin and there’s the same artists being put on the bills at the same times… It’s definitely a bigger hub than it used to be, but it’s just the same rappers doing the same sets.’ The need for the British scene is imperative then - ‘So, doing sets over in England is key, especially as they’re our neighbours and have a lot of Irish over there. So, you have to hit England – they’ve a huge music scene’. The recent closure of venues has sent shockwaves throughout the Irish music scene – with District 8’s recent closure being the highest casualty of a list that includes the likes of Hangar, with Twisted Pepper being the trend setter in this regard. The
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closing down of clubs, regardless of what genre of music is predominately played there, damages the reputation of Dublin as a spot to go out in, something that Luka elaborates on: ‘There’s a lot of clubs closing down here and not a lot coming up. The more clubs that close down, the more we lose our culture of being young lads and getting in bits on nights out, enjoying the music, it’s definitely bad news for the music scene because it destroys that Irish buzz of “we love music, we love dancing”’. There is, however, a silver lining, as the closure of clubs forces performers and promoters to create new spaces to express themselves – ‘Places closing down gives more of an opportunity for me and the Soft Boy lads to put on shows in abandoned hospitals, something random like that, or like old train stations. That shit’s deadly – its badass.’ ‘I’d love to do a little secret party before my album launch, literally sell like 50 tickets and text them the address on the day, something like that – go Boiler Room on that. Since
I’ve been making music in 2015, I’ve wanted to do a Boiler Room - either do my own one or get Boiler Room on board.’ But it hasn’t just been English audiences who have warmed to Luka – Northampton based rapper Slowthai was so impressed by him that he got Luka to open for his show in Workman’s - ‘The best day ever’ admitted Luka. Having only found about it three weeks beforehand, there wasn’t a whole lot of time to mentally ready himself, and the perceptions that people held about the English rapper’s personality were warned to Luka before the event, perceptions that, in the end, proved false: ‘Everyone around me was like “be careful around him, he’s a mad thing, he’s crazy”, but I met up with him and he was like the nicest lad I’ve ever met … Did the show with him, he brought me out on stage with him to do TN Biscuits which was fucking sick, it’s my favourite song ever. After the show, we just got on really well, and he invited me to open for him in London. So, I went to London 2 weeks later and
opened for him, he invited me to his gaff and was making me cups of tea and everything’ To be such an enigmatic and eccentric force on stage however, Slowthai does need to possess that side that hinges on the crazy – inspiration comes from the most bizarre places of our personality, and Slowthai is no different – ‘He does have a mad side. We’d be there chilling, and he’d be nicest lad ever, and then something will come up and he’d just turn into a mad thing for a few minutes. It was funny though, we all do it.’ Surely with a burgeoning relationship with one of the UK’s rising rappers, the possibility of a collaboration between the two couldn’t be far off – but Luka is wary of jumping the gun, and of remaining authentic: ‘I’d rather release music over the next year or two and then when I’ve made more of a name for myself I’d ask him. Obviously, me being in his gaff and shit it could have been easy for me to say “yo lets work on some shit”. I think that shit – especially when you just meet someone – is false and it looks like you’re using them. I’d want it to be genuine. I don’t even class myself at his level at all - so I’d want to up my game up or else I’d just get killed on a song’. Recent years has seen Luka become increasingly involved with Soft Boy records, the brainchild of Kojaque and Kean Kavanagh back in 2015. Despite being listed as one of their artists on the Soft Boy website, Luka insists it isn’t as formal as meets the eye: ‘We’ve never made anything official – I’ve never signed anything – it’s almost just more like a group of lads that you hang around with; you say ‘I just do stuff with Soft Boy’. With co-founder Kean Kavanagh describing it as a “faux-label”, the general impression is that Soft Boy is less a label and more a launchpad for collaborations, support and shooting the shit with a group of mates. The path of progress comes with conditions that can sometimes inhibit the very thing that contributed to its success – in this case, it’s the carefree nature that can collide with the more rigid demands of
business-minded endeavours. Luka is aware of this, but downplays its impact – ‘Obviously, there’s a business side to it, but that never comes into play really, it’s just all about having fun. It’s gotten a whole lot more businessy these days… In the last 6 months it’s become way more of a mad thing with flights, hotels all that. He (Kojaque) has a manager now, it used to just be him and Kean doing it all themselves, sorting out who’s going to be on the door, who’s doing stamps etc. They’ve way more time for the music now. ‘There’s the risk that the chilled out, funny, taking it easy buzz can go away. That’s what I know for a fact is people’s favourite part of Soft Boy: the humour and the buzz around it that it almost feels like a joke. And it being called Soft Boy, people like it because, as a word, people don’t like being called soft, but they ironically like it when it’s the music’ Not only is the nonchalant nature of Soft Boy presented in the appearances and antics of its members, but also in its music. Luka stresses the need to keep things light hearted – ‘When I make music, I just try not to make anything too serious, a lot of my tracks are just tracks that you’re not going to be depressed listening to. ‘Obviously I have songs that have meaning and substance to them but a lot of my songs, like Date Night, that’s just us taking the piss, we just wanted to have fun on a song. If you get too caught up with that, the listener never really gets a chance to chill out’. The need for balance and diversification is true not just on albums - ‘If you listen to Deli Daydreams, without ‘Last Pint’ and ‘Love and Braggadocio’ it’s kinda sad, like White Noise is a mad track, and Politcksis is a pretty like minor sad song’ – but also throughout the discography as an artist. Sticking to one formula is never a winner’s game, and sometimes speaking from the soul is the best course of action: ‘If you’re talking about heartbreak all the time it’s just gonna get old, you’re just going to sound moany. You have to mix it up, say some shit, don’t worry about it.
“You have to mix it up, say some shit, don’t worry about it. It’s gonna matter to someone – even if it’s one line
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HIP HOP
SMOKEY MORY BAZ JOHNNY WELFARE
ROGUE POETS Interview: Michael Fortune
I’m saying to you now, fucking five years ago it was definitely a different fucking landscape when it came to Irish hip hop music. SMOKEY: It was kind of dark as well cos Working Class was just running the circuit and everybody was trying to replicate Working Class. MORY: It was just dominated by Working Class records. S: GI was running it with Costello and Lethal Dialect. GI in particular uses that multiple syllable style and if you didn’t know multi-syllables and you weren’t rapping about Dublin city being a shit place, you were just a weird rapper! M: I still regard the lads who were making music five years ago as the better artists still. I don’t think anyone has done anything better than what they did yet. I just think what’s being done now is more approachable and people are actually listening to Irish hip hop. With the lads out there who are doing their thing now, it’s at a much more professional level. Their video quality is incredible, the production quality is incredible. S: I think creative industries have also
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grown up. There’s more people doing videos that want to get involved. M: Dublin is at the point now where it’s about to explode into something that can be beautiful and if everybody can get together and get behind that idea, there’s no limit to the potential to what Dublin can create. I can see so many people around me right now that are doing so much more than ever before. Everyone’s kind of forging their own path. Whether it’s in the media, magazines, music, photography, videography, everyone’s doing their thing right now and we just want to get a whole buzz going. Get people together and behind the movement. S: I’ve always kinda put it down to like, I think our generation is, not to sound cheesy but like, the generation of dreamers. Our parents wouldn’t have done this. Whereas we’re going to college now and we’re seeing opportunities and we’re taking hold of them. We’re coming into a more artistic age now than say 20 years ago. S: As well as that, subject matter has changed. It’s shifted. Kojaque has broken the barrier. He’s after coming out with this - it’s not essentially party music neither but it’s more emotional. It’s talking about ex-girlfriends and stuff. It’s not about drug dealers and gangs and shit. M: it’s about being a more normal Dublin lad. It’s about the session, being a bloke, troubles, and all that kind of stuff.
S: That’s it - it’s more relatable. And with Versatile, funny as it is, it’s also kinda relatable. It’s all about the session with them and that’s something that everybody does. It’s fucking relatable as shit. As great as Working Class was, you want to be at a session blaring Ketamine. M: Humour in Irish hip hop has always been very successful in Ireland. Cute hoorism is the best variety. I think Rubber Bandits are the two funniest men in Ireland. S: Even TPM are after coming out now. Fuck RTE? Man I blared that tune at least eight times the day it came out! I fuckin fell in love with that song. M: Irish hip hop is a young man’s game now as well. The balance has shifted greatly from who had the attention five years ago and who has the attention now. The taste of what people want in Irish hip hop. There’s so much more people listening to Irish hip hop than there was five years ago. Five years ago they still had this awful mentality. S: “I don’t wanna hear the Dublin accent” M: They can’t listen to it. I’m a very, very firm believer of always using your own accent. S: It’s keeping it real. It’s literally keeping it real. M: If you’re playing a character, do
what you want. But if you’re rapping as yourself, I’m a firm believer in using your own accent. Everyone in every country raps the way they are. Why should we be the suckers who have to piggy-back off a style. The problem is when everybody raps in American accents, it doesn’t give our scene any foundation whatsoever. When we are just copying and imitating something else, we will never be able to have the renaissance that we truly need. S: We can’t be jackin’ off other scenes because other scenes that had their renaissance didn’t do that themselves. At the end of the day, you’re from a city or a country and you can choose either to represent that or represent something else.
First time I met Mory we were rap battling. M: Yeah he called me out for a rap battle. S: It was fucking shockin, he murdered me, it was bad. M: But like I was still really bad as well. Just that little bit less worse than Smokey. S: That’s it. The Wispa Gold wrapper, do you remember that? Fuckin hell. M: At first we were just messing around. We were still just solo artists having a bit of a laugh and then we kept
making a few more tunes and we were like “let’s just do this!”. When you put all of us in the same room, we’d just working together. When we go off on our own you find that we just get too fucking lazy. Can’t pull the finger out to get shit done. When we’re always around each other, we get it done. And we’ve been artists on our own for so long that we’ve had years to forge who we are as individuals so I think Rogue Poets is the four of us coming together and fusing that. We don’t really have a hive mind so we’re never gonna be one thing. S: That’s the thing, we’ve been doing it so long individually that the four of us coming together, it’s almost like a beautiful clash if you know what I mean. Like it fuckin’ works!
Every track is a different story. It’s a different buzz, it’s a different craic. S: You listen to the mix tape man, it’s diverse (Róg Tapes Vol.1). M: We are three different MCs with three different approaches, which gives it that uniqueness. When we’re creating songs, we’re trying to pick a subject. There’s a lot of serendipity involved. Lots of happy accidents. Everyone throws an idea into the mix and the
song is borne out of that. Shinobi is that typical, bragadocious, “I’m here, look at me” hip hop. S: Karpackie is really strange. Probably the biggest brain fart we ever had. It was so beautiful how it came together cos I’m producing my solo project Live From Somewhere and I had like every other beat made, there was just one beat I couldn’t get right. And then I finally got it right and I was like “lads I want yous to listen to this”. So I play the beat and the samples playing and Mory goes “ah fuck off Smokey”. I said “what you mean?” and he just goes “listen to this”. Plays a trap beat with the exact same sample in it. Next thing I just start spitting a verse. I fucking come out with “Karpackie, Karpackie, smoke hash with your nanny” and next thing it’s fuckin’ born! M: He was using his voice differently and he wasn’t feeling it at all. We were just like “no man just do it, just do it, it actually sounds real cool, it works. S: I was taking the piss man! I was dancing this shit! It was the biggest pisstake ever - I sound like I’m nearly crying! M: When I showed my granny the song, we were in the car driving around and I played the song and my Granny goes “He sounds like a pigeon who’s found a nice piece of bread and he’s looking at it there like “Ooh! Ooh!” S: It’s trappy and it’s fun and people love it but then when you actually
analyse the lyrics there’s a few serious points in there! M: The song is just about Karpackie though at the end of the day. S: Too right! M: And then Fool’s Gold, that’s just the darker, political shit. And then Jazz Cabbage was like a Cypher tune, where we all just come up with verses. And then, well Submission! Submission is a fucking unreal tune. S: It’s just me rapping about patsy man. M: And the trials and tribulations of trying to give it up, and then everyone saying you’re soft and then “come on, get back on, you’re grand”. It’s a fucking incredibly accurate description of the trials and tribulations of being a man who sniffs a bit too much well. S: I feel like I caught it well. Since I started college, techno was usually the thing. Majority of nights that you go out to, it’s usually techno based. So techno and drugs are going hand-in-hand. Drugs have always been a problem with Irish youth but everyone’s doing them now. That’s part of the reason why I wrote Submission - because I had such a big problem with coke you know what I mean? But I wasn’t the only one in my friend group. There was probably six other heads going through the same shit. That was just my immediate friend group so think of everybody else who’s going through that. It’s a very relatable thing to talk about but it’s also on the
darker side of things cos people don’t really wanna hear that.
We’re trying to touch everything and have a nice charm about it as well. M: For me the aim of the label (Róg Records) was first off to create a platform for ourselves. A label kind of unifies a scene. You could have all of us from around the same area, doing the same stuff collaborating with each other, but when we unify under the same label, it’s kind of “all for one and one for all. We’re in this together and if one of us is succeeding it means we’re all succeeding” S: I want people that are going for the same end goal as me, to be with us. That’s essentially what Rog Records is to me. Just a load of respectable people doing the same thing, having the same love for it. M: We want to promote a more positive message as well. Hip hop in Ireland, it can be quite cliquey. There’s not enough support between people in the scene. We want to send off a message, we want to create a unity in Irish hip hop.
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Photography: Sarah Jane Kehoe
I’m going for oldschool, boom bap, fuckin’ funky. S: With the solo EP (I call it Live From Somewhere), I’m gonna write the lyrics me self, produce the beats me self, apart from one. Every song leads into the next story. I’ve based the whole thing in a room with that after-sessiony buzz. Everybody had that one mate when you were younger that you’d go back to theirs. The ma lets you smoke a few joints in the sitting room - grand. And you just talk bollocks you know what I mean? And those five songs are essentially the shite talk. It goes from stories, to happy/funny buzz, to kinda sad, to reminiscent. You’re almost on a rollercoaster. I’m trying to replicate that after-sessiony, few-joints-in shite-talk in between to really tie it together. M: I’ve got my solo project which I’m working on as well which is gonna be self-produced. I’ll be going for a completely different sound from Smokey though. He’s kicking old-school 90’s beats. I’m going for the deep liquid trap. Nice 808’s, loads of high hats. And my lyrical content is very much a wakeup call to Ireland. Cos shit’s fucked up. S: Very.
M: And I feel like Yeats, when he wrote September 1913, completely disillusioned with Irish society and the lack of romanticism, and fighting an oppressive ruler essentially. But I’m not gonna be writing it in a very political way that’s difficult to listen to. I’m gonna be tackling issues that are literally effecting everybody and when they hear what I have to say they’re gonna be very much in agreement. S: Myself and Johnny Welfare are gonna be releasing a beat EP of just hip hop instrumentals. And Bazzy’s working on his solo stuff as well. He’s actually got a dance EP that he’s gonna be releasing. Dom Slinky. And Bazzy also has a solo hip hop thing he’s working on too. With Bazzy - Massive Attack is his thing. Plus, he’s Greek! So that’s also something to keep in mind. He’s quite experimental and the Mediterranean in him definitely comes out in it. M: Fuckin’ right it does. S: So within the next year there should be nearly ten bodies of work on Rog Records.
The Lighthouse is great because we’ve been crying out for a buzz in Dun Laoghaire for so long S: The first show we ever did was the Lighthouse. It was the first Bodytonic gig and we sold it out. 250 was the capacity and we kept letting people in. M: Up until the Lighthouse started doing these gigs, pubs were closed at half 12 and that’s it, everybody home. But now the Lighthouse can go on ‘til half 2, even 3 with the late license. But it’s the only venue in Dun Laoghaire so we’re definitely gonna make sure to give it space. We don’t want to play to the same audience again two weeks later. We want to make sure that we keep spreading it out to newer places and newer things.
IADT & NCAD
Merger in Our Midst? Words: Zoe Agerr
In a postmodern era of fake news and media frenzy, there are those who rush to publish the first inclination of any exploitative truth where possible. During the midsummer of 2018, the media reared its impetuous head in response to a report commissioned by the HEA. Said report was obtained by a journalist and included the proposal of a merger between NCAD and IADT in the formation of a university for the creative arts. Concerned for the future of IADT and the prospect of merging with a college some see as our rival, we exclusively interviewed Annie Doona, former registrar and president of IADT since 2011. T HE EYE IADT MAGAZINE
“what people forget is that there’s only two courses in common between IADT and NCAD – Fine Arts and Vis-Com
Seeking some clarification on these recent rumours we were met by a well-prepared woman with all the answers to our proverbial woes. According to Doona, a report was commissioned by the Higher Education Authority (HEA) in examination of a possible merger between IADT and NCAD following the previously published Bramford report in 2013. This contemporary report was then reconsidered and discussed in a monthly HEA meeting held in April of 2018. The published minutes of this meeting discussed the development of support for the arts, among five other recommendations. The detailing on a possible merger between IADT and NCAD is construed in this recent progress report by Dr Gary Granville. And so, the fabricated truth was born, with somewhat tangible grounds for assuming a merger was indeed being considered. These facts may seem futile and humdrum, but it is in fact the cause of these rumours, which are dismally just that, rumours.
consumption, but it was leaked into the public domain.’
Although in the minutes of the HEA’s April meeting, it’s noted ‘the report required some edits before it could be released’, a journalist then procured of copy of this progress report. News publications and commentators were swift to publicise the suggested merger and it was soon transcribed into presumptuous knowledge that a merger was indeed in the works. In an interview with The Eye, Annie Doona was quick to note:
‘We do a lot of joint student projects, joint research, we’re involved in a number of ACCESS initiatives with them, we’re involved in the learning city initiative with them, so we do a lot of work together, we do a lot of lectures there and they do some here.’
‘that report shouldn’t have published, it wasn’t finished, it wasn’t a great report, it wasn’t for public
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Doona elaborates on the fact that that her counterpart at NCAD, Sarah Glenny was met with the same initial shock when met with publications and reports detailing a possible merger. The IADT president also maintains that this report is external and is certainly not a reflection of any current negotiations between these institutions. Both NCAD and IADT have now seen this report but it has not been published. With strict regulations on the graduation of an institution to a university, Annie Doona believes it would inevitably be extremely difficult to merge both colleges if it was indeed being considered. Despite the fact that there is no merger in negotiations, both NCAD and IADT host many preexisting collaborations;
The facts are ironclad for Doona, if a merger were to happen there would be needs which would have to be met for both institutions. A major issue which has been continuously perpetuated by the media and expressed through student concerns, is the overtly publicised financial state of NCAD as an institution
and the problematic idea of merging while they are still working to improve this. As Doona explained, IADT is solvent, and NCAD are not. Rising to the defence of the university she stated: ‘Sarah is doing a great job to reduce the debt over there, but it will take a number of years to do that. So, we are not going to merge with an institution that has a large amount of debt’ External articles have given the impression this was a very real plan, and one that would be in effect almost if not immediately, although this is clearly not the case. Doona reiterates a fact which remains true: ‘what people forget is that there’s only two courses in common between IADT and NCAD – Fine Arts and Vis-Com.’ And so, in some ways, a merger would not make sense for either institution. In exploring the idea of a collective ‘University of The Arts’, the interest of IADT’s president was most definitely piqued. Reaping the benefits of cooperation while still maintaining a degree of autonomy and specialisation would be prioritised for Doona. An umbrella university which would cover the arts is an idea that would be welcomed although in reality it is impossible to imagine the length or indeed effectiveness of such a concept or construction. Doona is inherently aware of the pressures that students (and particularly students of the arts) are
confronted by – ‘we know student accommodation is a big problem, nationally and for us in Dun Laoghaire’ and informed us she has been in contact with private developers and housing suppliers due to the lack of funds currently in IADT. It is no surprise that money is a big issue, not just for IADT but for every college in Ireland – ‘all of us have had cuts in funding {…} funding with higher education has been difficult in recent years.’ Doona addressed that she is aware ‘students are having to buy more and more materials and equipment’ and that ‘the funding has been very difficult for the sector over the last 10 years’. Although students are made aware in the application for these courses, the costs of supplies it is still an issue which faces those in the art department of IADT. A user on Reddit claims
improvements in these areas. Although the alleged merger of the two colleges is not in negotiations for now, there is huge expansion to be seen in IADT which many students are inherently unaware of. IADT has recently acquired €30 million for a new digital media building to be opened in 2022 (the only thing approved for funding out of many proposals for student centres and other facilities which were prioritised). With huge forthcoming development and proposals for the growth of IADT, it must now draw the attention of students. It could be asked where is next for IADT, although the answers await in the new strategic plan for 2019-2023, which should be published very soon.
‘IADT hasn’t prioritised its creative courses in over 10 years now … The arts block hasn’t seen investment in over a decade and even basic things like studio space are at a premium.’ An unforgiving call-out which is somewhat false, although this could reflect the frustration felt by students studying in the Design and Visual Arts department. This rationale is felt throughout IADT and the state of all artistic sectors across Ireland, where there is a rooted lack of funding which prevents growth in these areas. Sadly, it may actually be all about the Benjamins and as Benjamin said himself ‘An investment in knowledge pays the best interest’ (Benjamin Franklin). Before analysing the merger of any institutions there must fundamentally be
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AMBER O’SHEA / ‘Self Titled’
Amber O’Shea IADT 2nd year Photography osheaophotography@gmail.com IG: O.SHEA.O
I work through a number of different mediums because I am influenced in more ways than one. Photography allows me to fuse them into one by bringing them altogether that’s what keeps drawing me to the medium. I’m not sure if I have a particular style of artwork, I find as an artist you are forced to find your style but for me I like to progress onto new ideas, designs and structures and show my growth through my work. I want my work to grow and not feel inflicted to look a certain way to fit in or to be categorised. I just want to create. Create in more ways than one, I don’t want to be dehumanized by competition, subjectified by power or objectified by money. Whether my work will progress and expand or stay on a secluded platform maybe even be viewed by a big audience or none. My work is created for me and it’s created for the purpose of creation. To me being aware of why you are creating and what is driving you to continue to make is success itself. As artists we tend to feel like we haven’t reached our successes because we haven’t got grand lavish objects as outcomes. But to me we already have succeeded, we just choose not to see it. We can often lose sight of reality, and of ourselves by being projectivied by certain aspects. I have learned that you can’t always win. You have to keep trusting your decisions and actions. I work through a number of different mediums because I am influenced in more ways than one. Photography allows me to fuse them into one by bringing them altogether that’s what keeps drawing me to the medium.
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I’m not sure if I have a particular style of artwork, I find as an artist you are forced to find your style but for me I like to progress o nto new ideas, designs and structures and show my growth through my work. I want my work to grow and not feel inflicted to look a certain way to fit in or to be categorised. I just want to create. Create in more ways than one, I don’t want to be dehumanized by competition, subjectified by power or objectified by money. Whether my work will progress and expand or stay on a secluded platform maybe even be viewed by a big audience or none. My work is created for me and it’s created for the purpose of creation. To me being aware of why you are creating and what is driving you to continue to make is success itself. As artists we tend to feel like we haven’t reached our successes because we haven’t got grand lavish objects as outcomes. But to me we already have succeeded, we just choose not to see it. We can often lose sight of reality, and of ourselves by being projectivied by certain aspects. I have learned that you can’t always win. You have to keep trusting your decisions and actions.
T HE EYE IADT MAGAZINE
AMBER O’SHEA
T HE EYE IADT MAGAZINE
GRADUATE FILMMAKER
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FILMMAKER
Interview: Michael Fortune
DONAL FOREMAN
The IADT film graduate discusses film school, filmmaking, and his new documentary ‘The Image You Missed’
I
t’s ten years now since I graduated. 2008. I think we were actually one of the first years to do the four year degree. I remember there was a certain sense that we were kind of guinea pigs to some new things. You missed out on a few things too. The national film school building was only built in 2013. Yeah, we didn’t have any of those fancy new resources. We were watching movies, in class, with the lights on, on a tube TV. For your portfolio you had a lot of short films which had screened at the Fresh Film Festival right? Yeah, I entered that from 1999 to 2004 with a group of friends. Basically from when we were 13 to 18. And we won in 2003, at long last. Then they get you to make a film to bring back and show out of competition. That was really my first film school; I owe a lot to them.
What would you say to the current students? I was a know-it-all in film school. I think sometimes I rubbed people up the wrong way in the administration, because I had a certain attitude. And I learned that that was not gonna get me anywhere you know? Humility, being able to listen and make people feel like they’re being listened to is really important if you’re trying to get people’s help. Whether it’s funding or people working with you. I’ve taught in various capacities before and I can see those students in the back of the class being like “what the fuck have you got to offer”. I think you learn, and you can learn the easier way or the hard way, that that’s not gonna get you too far. A recent IADT graduate survey called First Destinations shows that one year after graduating a majority of film students are in jobs that they rate as “highly relevant” to their course. 63% - which is higher than any other course at the college. 63% is high?
Good memories of IADT? Not everybody enjoys college. Mixed. Overall, I don’t regret doing it. I think I got a lot out of it. There were problems along the way but I think with film school, wherever you go, you get the most important things - meeting collaborators, having access to equipment, and having deadlines that are making you actually focus and get stuff done. Everything beyond that is kind of secondary.
The highest. It’s good news for the film students. What was your experience after graduating? I was very much focused on doing my own work. Making my own films. I suppose there were a couple of different career tracks presented to us. One is working your way up from the bottom, through the industry. You get a job as a runner on a set and gradually work your way up through the
camera department, through production departments, and learn the industry that way. Editing was one of my strongest skills and one of the things that I enjoyed the most. And if I wanted a career in that, the typical route would be to get a job as a runner at Windmill Lane, or one of these production houses, and you serve the coffee and run errands for a year. Then they might start you on assistant editing work, for three to four years. And finally they might let you edit an episode of reality TV or something, you know? And those kind of trajectories just seemed really bleak and boring to me. I mean, it works great for some people. It depends. I think if you just enjoy being on set and being involved in the day-to-day handson stuff of the camera department and what not, you learn a lot doing that. It’s just a slow road. Your approach was to make your own films? I was just going make my own stuff and see where that leads me. The first year out of college, I applied for funding for a lot of things. Short film schemes. A producer took an interest in me and we applied to the Arts Council’s Reel Art documentary scheme. We got short listed but then didn’t get it. And then I found myself a year after having graduated and I hadn’t made a film yet. So then I made something that was totally improvised, that I shot in Temple Bar over one night, from like 8pm to 4am, and just shot on the streets with a few actors. That was quite energizing. Over the next two years I made three or four short films that
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GRADUATE FILMMAKER were all made for next to nothing. Just with favours. About a thousand euro was probably the biggest budget that went into any of them. You were focusing on building up a track record? Yeah. For example there was a cinematographer in my year, Piers McGrail, who’s doing very well now. He just shot a Liam Neeson movie in Belfast. He shot all my shorts in college and the first few years out of college. He made a decision after graduating. He invested in a RED camera. So he did a little bit of assistant work during college but then he just got his camera and started building up his own reel as a cinematographer. And then gradually, over the years, built up a reputation, got more and more work, and now he works all the time. You were taking the same approach but without specializing in say, cinematography. Yeah, which means at the end of it, you still don’t get paid or make any money.
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Cinematographer is a much more marketable trade than writer-director. Is it a trade-off though? Some small amount of the 63% of working graduates are making their own films as opposed to making other people’s films right? For sure, yeah. I think there’s three people from my class, including myself who have made features — most recently Dave Tynan, who made Dublin Oldschool. ON MAKING A FEATURE
from starting out. It’s like if someone’s been at it for ten years, they’ll go “oh, I guess he’s here to stay. I guess he’s going to keep making work”. Then the second route is you make a short that has very high profile success internationally. So it gets nominated for an Oscar, or plays Sundance, Toronto or another A-list festival. And then that can establish your reputation. But I got rejected from all the short schemes and while I played a fair few festivals with my shorts, they didn’t get into Sundance or anything close to that. So there wasn’t anyone knocking on the door looking to help me out. How did you make your first feature?
As a director, I think there’s two paths to making a feature, that would be most traditionally accepted in Ireland. One of them is you go through all of the funding schemes, kind of like stepping stones. So you would do a Filmbase short. You’d do a “short short” with the film board. Then you’d do a Signatures short (their longer, bigger budget short scheme). You go through all of these, proving yourself at these different levels, and then they give you money to do a feature, which often seems to take, ten years probably,
So as I said, Fresh Film Festival was my first film school. Film school was my second film school. And the short films I made in the few years after college was the third film school - and a lot of that was working with actors. I’d say we had two weeks of acting workshops in the four years of college. It was definitely one of the neglected aspects. With each short I would try out a different approach. I was like, “okay this time I’ll just make it up from scratch with the
Photography: Athur MacCaig
“
I found myself a year after having graduated and I hadn’t made a film yet.
“ actors”, “this time I’ll have an outline”, “this time I’ll have a full script” and I would do a lot of auditions and use the auditions as an opportunity to just rehearse and improvise and experiment with actors. So I learned a lot that way. It was through the rehearsals with the actors that I wrote the script for my first feature, Out of Here. Generally in the film industry rehearsals wouldn’t be very common. There’s some filmmakers who swear by it, but often it’s considered a luxury. With Out of Here we did two weeks rehearsal. We rehearsed during the day and then I’d go home and write, and then we’d try the scenes the next day - that kind of thing. It’s also very difficult to get funding for a film without a script - someone like Mike Leigh can do it, but as a firsttime director, assurances that you’re going to figure it out in rehearsal don’t get you very far. So I knew I needed to go a different route with Out of Here. I worked with an independent producer, Emmet Fleming (none of the established Irish companies were biting), and together we organized
a crowdfunding campaign, offering shares in the film for €150 a piece - a little different to the usual Kickstarter model, because these were literal shares of the film’s (potential) future profit, rather than donations. We raised €25k production budget this way, and then we submitted a rough cut to the Irish Film Board who contributed €15k to cover post-production costs. ON THE NEW DOCUMENTARY You got Arts Council funding for this one. What would you say about attracting them to the project? Well, the key thing about the Arts Council is that their remit is to fund experimental film, so you need to show that you have some kind of recognition and track record in that field. They’re trying to support what the Film Board won’t support. And obviously “experimental” can be a pretty nebulous and disputed term, but the bottom line is you need to convince them that you’re making something that’s outside the bounds of conventional narrative cinena. And then they really just let you do it, and you send them the film when it’s done. There’s a great amount of freedom and trust involved. It’s very different from the Film Board which is closer to a studio model, where they want to be more intimately involved and give you notes and feedback as you develop the project. With the essay documentary, you discovered a form that gives you as much control as you need for a personal project like this one. Yeah. I directed, produced, and edited. I shot the new material for it. In the last couple of months, I brought in the usual post-production specialists: I
worked with a sound designer, I had an assistant editor helping me with some technical things and I worked with composers and a colourist. But for most of the process it was just me, so there was no real separation between the roles. It was all just filmmaking. Which was how I started out as well. The only thing is that it does get lonely. You miss other people. So I wouldn’t want to work like that exclusively. I definitely want other people in the room next time. Actors, preferably. At the moment you’re busy taking the documentary to film festivals. What was the submission process like?
producer who’s handling the logistics of submitting to festivals, such as making and sending DCPs and press packs, and I’m just doing all of it myself. I’m my own producer, distributer, publicist, so it’s a lot! There is a satisfaction in being in control so I can make more considered decisions than someone else might - for example, making sure the poster, the design and everything is exactly how I want it. And learning how all of those things work. So I think that when you do delegate to other people, you know what they’re doing and if they’re doing it well. So it’s been a good learning experience, but yeah, no it’s wreckin’.
What I learned is you should almost never just submit a film blind. I would always make contact with the programmer before submitting. Email them - it helps if you have some mutual connection - and tell them about the film or offer to send them a link. Otherwise you’re just getting lost in a sea of submissions. When they know who you are, they might end up watching it themselves. At the big festivals, they get thousands and thousands of submissions. So the first gatekeepers are usually interns. You should never take that stuff personally because it literally could be a hung-over eighteen year old watching your film at 9am and falling asleep five minutes in. That could literally be why your film got rejected. And from what I’ve heard, most festivals only select something like 10% of their program from open submissions. What’s this stage of the filmmaking process like? Fun or exhausting? It’s both. It’s been six months already. It’s definitely exhausting because again a lot of people would at least have a
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Words: Aaron Kavanagh
An Asshole’s Guide to Anxiety I’m not a kid; I’m fat, ugly, and I don’t need my parents to buy 18-rated video games for me
I
t seems like now people are comfortable about being candid about their mental health issues and general anxiety. And that’s great. Why perpetuate any remaining stigma about mental health? Why suffer in silence when you’ll soon realise that so many people have experiences with it? Here’s the thing – this isn’t going to be advice or help for your anxiety. Sorry. I’d be a hypocrite if I acted like an authority on combating anxiety. I’m not. I’m just an asshole with anxiety. I want to clarify straight off the bat that I don’t think people who have anxiety are assholes. Of course not. There are, however, people with anxiety who just so happen to be assholes. I should know - I’m one of them. So, this piece is for the assholes, but it’s also for the do-gooders who try and help assholes like me because, as an asshole, I find these altruistic well-doers who volunteer their time out of the goodness of their hearts, who study anxiety and mental health to benefit people who are struggling, to be just a little bit twee and saccharine. Now, I’m sure these are just the personality traits of people who aren’t hedonistic assholes, out for number one (I’m assuming - I can’t attest to that) but, from the perspective of an asshole, any sign of merriment or optimism comes across as perfunctory and insincere. It feels like you’re treating us like children, or that we’re somehow defective. You tell kids lies about fictional things like Santa Claus, or the Tooth Fairy (or functional governments) in order to shield them from the harsh realities of life. And it feels like that’s the trick you’re pulling on us. When you smile ear-to-ear and tell us everything’s going to be okay, you’re making me feel like a kid. And I’m not a kid; I’m fat, ugly, and I don’t need my parents to buy 18-rated video games for me. I know you’re doing your best, all I’m saying is a little cynicism goes a long way. This is going to sound weird, especially considering the premise of this article, but I can’t tell if I’m an asshole or if it’s just ‘my anxiety’. When I started getting ‘my anxiety’, I got super grouchy and irritable. People would just make
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excuses that it was just ‘my anxiety,” which it was, but that’s been me for the last couple of years. At what point does ‘my anxiety’ become me? ‘My anxiety’, as it’s presented as a separate entity, and oddly enough, often presented with some sort of sentience and intellect (often sympathetically, too: it’s not evil – ‘my anxiety’ is trying to benefit me, it’s just doing a piss poor job of it) has become symbiotic. I feel like ‘my anxiety’ has overrode who I am. I’m not going to go too much into it, because I have no delusions of grandeur about how interesting of a character study I am, but the abridged version: I once didn’t have anxiety issues, then I did, and since then it’s been with me every day since. It’s been so long that I can’t remember who I was prior to ‘my anxiety’ I’m often amazed at the crazy things I did prior to having anxiety. That’s not to suggest that I was some absolute mad lad prior to ‘my anxiety’, but what constitutes ‘crazy things’ to me now is going someplace and not considering an exit strategy, you know, just in case I die or something. When I first started getting anxiety, all I wanted to know was “Is it ever going to go back to normal?” ‘Normal’, in this regard, meaning pre-anxiety. Truth be told, I can vouch for just how ‘normal’ I was, pre-anxiety, but it was better than the near-agoraphobic mess I was. Here’s the short answer: no. Sorry if that’s a bummer, but if you laughed at my caricature of a mental health professional earlier and are disappointed that a self-appointed asshole doesn’t follow in that path, then that’s your fault. The truth is, I’ve felt everything in states of panic – heart racing, dizziness, sweating, numbness in my limbs, hyperventilating, not able to catch a breath, my throat closing up, jelly legged - like I was having coronary issues, like I was going to pass out anything you can name. That, married with my hypochondria (I once joked to a nurse that you could describe the symptoms of menopause to me and I’d think I had it - she looked blankly at me and explained that menopause only affects women of a certain age) does
not equal a good time. In my head, I must have been on the precipice of death or serious illness hundreds upon hundreds of times. The fact is, you can’t go back from that. That shit will stick with you. It doesn’t mean it has to define you. It defines me, maybe, because I was so devoid of any kind of personality to begin with, so the anxiety probably just filled in the void. Maybe the irritability and flakiness that comes with anxiety gave people the illusion of a personality, even a bad one, where none existed? Or maybe I’ve always been an asshole? Or maybe I was a good guy until ‘my anxiety’? I don’t know and you don’t care, so let’s move on. Here’s the thing – I know you suffer from panic attacks and I suffer from panic attacks. Knowing that I’m not the only one who has anxiety issues doesn’t alleviate my anxiety, and I’m sure it doesn’t alleviate yours. You may have panic attacks, but they’re not the same as my panic attacks. My panic attacks are worse. My panic attacks are more life stagnating. And maybe that’s where we should finish this article – I know anxiety, especially when new, can really mess with your head, make you doubt yourself and what your abilities are, but you still have whatever mental and physical facilities you’ve always had. Nothing has changed - except your thought pattern, and that can change again, so you can live your life as you see fit. To give you something to be optimistic about through your trying times – at least you’re not the person who wrote this. Even if I eradicate my anxiety, I’m still the person who wrote this. And no matter what state you’re in, you’re not! And I think even the most hardened cynic can crack a smile at that, even if only as schadenfreude at my expense. Feel better? No? Well, if you expected a suppression of your anxiety from a free student newspaper, I’m sorry to disappoint.
Words: Christopher O’Flaherty
The Divide Between Business and Arts Students
I’m going to start with a very simple question - is there a divide? That is a definite yes. According to one of my interviewees, they have been in the college for 4 years and haven’t.
Have you ever noticed that business and art students never seem to Nothing - it just decreases the quality of integrate with each other? Yeah, so did I. The divide in IADT has been student life because it means student are a problem in the college for some time now. The start of this unusual less likely to make new friends and diversify occurrence seems to be unknown, and I call this unusual because their experience in IADT, which I’m sure is not our small student population means that we should have better what the hierarchy intended. integration across all courses. However, this is not the case with Now I’m not just going to complain about the college. So, I have interviewed several people to understand the current situation without offering some the current divide that exists on our campus. solutions. I’ve talked to my peers, and a common I’m going to start with a very simple question - is there a divide? talking point was a solution to correct the ideas. That is a definite yes. According to one of my interviewees, they The general consensus? The increase of social have been in the college for 4 years and haven’t established a spaces. The Chapel is the main social space in IADT, reliable and good relationship with a person from any of the and while we all do love playing some pool or foosball art courses. Now this isn’t a rare example - art and business there really isn’t a whole lot to do there. When the students have different interests. One is very subjective and Chapel is busy there’s almost no place to sit and by personal, requiring a more creative outlook on life, while the time it’s your time on either of the tables its most business is very much how to run a business, accounting likely you have a lecture to get to! The lack of space and and examples of successful businesses - all very factually activities in the Chapel means students tend to congregate driven courses. That’s a huge difference. However, elsewhere, leading to less integration and a lack of a focal though that is only one aspect of the divide between point within the college. To solve this, I suggest that IADT the two groups. There are so many students in IADT puts on more events that promotes socialising, an example that have tonnes of similarities between them. This of this being the women’s networking event they did recently. is shown through the mixing in the societies - there One complaint was that the campus is a ‘dry campus’. Now, is clearly potential for mixing. we all know the restrictive licensing laws, especially in terms of How did the divide occur then? Well, I’d have to security, but it wouldn’t hurt to have some sort of BYOB night, say it occurred long enough ago for it to be this or to re-establish the tent for RAG week. Another suggestion I noticeable and present within the college. So, received was to add more things to do in the Chapel, such as more we can only really hypothesise. I say it likely pool tables, as there are two foosball tables that do not get as much occurred from the separation of courses into use as the pool table. Why not remove one of them and replace it different buildings. Business students are with a pool table? Another idea would have an entire new social place, primarily in the Carriglea building, while the but that doesn’t see so feasible. art students are mostly in the Quadrangle Now to close this article, I hope this puts some awareness to the social – essentially segregating the two into divide in our college. I hope this encourages everyone to synergise with different parts of the campus. What is the people they may not know. Don’t be afraid to say hello to someone, you benefit from that? may regret it if you don’t.
T HE EYE IADT MAGAZINE
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