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WORDS Tom Lordan PHOTOS Anthony Hobbs the represe
ntation of nationally significant historical figures is at the heart of O’Donoghue’s project in this exhibition, it’s clear how fertile this territory is for the contemporary artist. Indeed, O’Donoghue’s investigation into the meaning of historical subjects as symbols and social constructs is something that predates this exhibition. A useful document to refer to is Art, Imagination and Public Service, a publication released in 2021, wherein O’Donoghue stated that, “History painting was for many years regarded as the highest form of art, but it fell flat on its face and died about 150 years ago. It had become exhausted; it was predictable, theatrical, and propagandist.” O’Donoghue’s paintings are anything but predictable: they are mixed media tapestries, consisting of several formats including photography, and unlike Maclise’s painting, each of these artworks employs a collage-effect, combining different images and materials on a flat, one-dimensional surface. Again, by contrast to the theatricality that typifies history painting and Romanticism both, the style that results from O’Donoghue’s aesthetic choices is overridingly cool, in the detached and impersonal sense, and this produces a rewarding tension within the exhibition space. The detached aesthetic is also at play in O’Donoghue’s style of figuration, or put otherwise, in the manner of the characterisation of his painting’s protagonists. Maclise’s The Marriage of Strongbow and Aoife characterises Aoife as a demure, innocent princess, brightly lit by the sunlight that breaks through the storm clouds; a pawn in her father’s Machiavellian strategy for power. Strongbow, on the other hand, is cast in shadow, his bearing regal and imperious; he holds his bride’s hand with an armoured glove, strengthening by reflection her status as a sacrificial lamb. Whereas the allegorical models of Gaelic princess and colonial general are clearly defined by Maclise, O’Donoghue’s figures are more psychologically opaque. His individuals are situated in a white non-space, and are either distracted in thought or else stare blankly at the audience. They are almost confrontational in their refusal to carry any emotional or metaphorical charge: their neutrality completely rebuffs our desire to project onto them meanings and values. According to Rooney, this neutrality was carefully considered by the artist: “Hughie has always been keen to stress that the paintings are not ‘portraits’ in the orthodox sense, but reflections on historical figures.” This psychological restraint, an “eschewing of the pictorial tradition,” serves to give the audience the space they require “to consider what they actually know and feel about characters who have played important roles in the evolutions of the nations that we inhabit.” Aesthetic to one side, the actual selection of historical figures is another clue to the restless reappraisal that lies at the root of O’Donoghue’s practice. Unlike Maclise’s painting, where conquered and conqueror are held absolutely separate – virtue and violence distinguished in high relief – O’Donoghue creates connections between British and Irish nationalities. I was especially intrigued by the pairing of Michael Collins and Emily Davison, the suffragette; “both ideological activists who changed the status quo significantly by attacking the establishment,” as O’Donoghue noted in our emails. Of course, given his personal history, O’Donoghue’s encompassing perspective makes sense: “I have lived in both Ireland and England all my life and know, through research of my own family background, that ideas of identity are rarely straightforward.” This intuition into the fungibility of identity leads to O’Donoghue’s primary assertion, that “history is complex,” and national narratives “often seek to simplify history to serve their own interests.” Undaunted by the challenge, O’Donoghue’s response to Maclise’s masterpiece raises the audience’s awareness of our national attitudes and historical assumptions, to place them in the foreground. The result, as you slowly make your way from one end of the long room to the other, is compelling. Hughie O’Donoghue: Original Sins is at the National Gallery until May 21, free admission. hughieodonoghue.com 49