Meaningful and absurd
In Tom Fitzgerald's works at the RHA, bizarre creatures and fantasyland settings mask a biting commentary on modern society, says Billy Leahy
A History of Silence by Tom Fitzgerald.Ashford Gallery, RHA, until 18 May
Walking around Tom Fitzgerald's exhibition A History of Silence is a quietly liberating experience. Surreal, fun-poking landscapes populated with various victims and self-appointed rulers of Celtic Tiger Ireland, bizarre sculptures that seem to come from an Absurdist sci-fi fantasy and a series of satirical slate etchings with dear old Cathleen Ní Houlihan as the protagonist are both baffling and outrageous.
Armed with a vivacious imagination and a host of pet subjects – he admits a keen interest in the "interconnectedness of things", philosophy and beliefs, absurdity and the preservation of the planet – Fitzgerald brings the viewer through fantastical terrain and surreal surrounds with a wry sense of humour. If the visual imagination is not celebrated in Ireland, as Fitzgerald has previously decreed (in a nation of poets, playwrights and novelists), it would appear the Limerick-based artist is on a mission to put that right.
Most of the works in A History of Silence consist of mixed media drawings, with Fitzgerald's insistence on employing only sandy-coloured acid-free paper (he is environmentally aware) giving each image a desert-like backdrop. The composition and imagery owes much to surrealism, but one suspects Fitzgerald has only arrived at this language through a love and affection for Absurdism. Often large expanses of paper are left bare, with the dialogue confined to a condensed area, but instead of knocking the works off kilter – and one suspects this would be quite easy – it imbues them with an innate lyrical balance.
Chequered chessboard patterns reoccur, vaguely attempting to map space and bring order to the chaos of Fitzgerald's intricate miniature worlds, as angels flitter and zebras wander through the works undisturbed. Humour and satire are rarely far below the surface. Incisive one-liners and ridiculous non-sequiturs take turns throughout the works in a style slightly reminiscent of David Godbold's work. The physical materiality of the world, another one of Fitzgerald's confessed interests, provides plenty of material for sardonic comment.
'Garden of Eden discovered in IKEA basement – partially assembled', a typical Fitzgerald work, observes the rampant commodification of modern society, with the result that true value and beauty is often overlooked. Modern Ireland often finds itself the target of Fitzgerald's cutting humour, but the net is cast wider than our shores in the brilliantly judged 'Swarm of angels causes panic in Pentagon' and 'Tobacco Industry supplies Adam & Eve with lung bypass technology'. The latter drawing is accompanied by a grotesque stainless steel, brass and wool sculpture of that very lung bypass device.
Six circular slate etchings – the Cathleen Ní Houlihan series – sees Fitzgerald focusing his attention on modern Ireland as an Sean-Bhean Bhocht, sells her soul for a home in Foxrock ... only to be subsequently denied planning permission. Elsewhere, Cathleen is found being harassed by an Old Irish Saint shortly after achieving a lifetime ambition thanks to body enhancement technology. It is ridiculous and absurd, but also an amazingly accurate boot into the ribs of self-obsessed Irish society.
His imagined universes may be filled with bizarre creatures and fantasyland apparel, but there is little doubt Tom Fitzgerald's biting humour is closely focused on the real world. "The intellect," as he has said, "is not the only way to apprehend reality."