I recently attended a meeting of a men’s group; in part to be a participant in a training session they were having, but also to meet some men that would hopefully be taking part in focus groups for my research.  The idea was to meet the men in an informal session and build rapport, so that they would feel more comfortable during the focus groups at a later date.

I didn’t really know what to expect of the men’s group meeting.  I knew one or two of the organisers of the event and I chatted with them as the men began to arrive, bustling about pouring coffee and tea while chewing on biscuits.  Although I shared the same hair colour as most of the men (well at least those that had it) I was significantly younger in years.  Worry crept into my head.  These men wouldn’t want to take part in my research I thought.  They wouldn’t understand what I was trying to achieve, or so my worries led me to believe.

As the room filled with approximately 20 men or so, I sat on the end of a brown leather couch with two older men.  Another man sat to my left in an office type chair.  We turned to each other and gave a nod, and like the beginning of most Irish conversations we commented on the weather.  Once the formalities of cold snaps, frost and terrible winds had been addressed, the older man told me about his motorised bicycle.   Now to be honest I wasn’t expecting this man to be cycling a bicycle at all, let alone a motorised one!  He was a fascinating character, gentle in manner with deep piercing green eyes tucked in under bushy grey eyebrows. 

The training began with a general introduction, then into the topic of multiple intelligence theory and an overview of learning styles.  We then divided into group work, to discuss our own intelligence type and learning style.  I was grouped with three men, all in their mid to late seventies.  The man with the motorised bicycle, Des*, took the lead in the activity.  He began by telling us his name and then went around the group asking the men theirs.  We began our discussion and what unfolded amazed me.  My preconceptions and assumptions came to the fore.  I had under estimated these men.  Although slow in movement, gentle in voice and quiet, these men were intelligent, sharp and thoughtful, with experiences behind them I hadn’t imagined.

After the group work, the training pushed on, and eventually we were to reflect on what we enjoyed doing, and what it was we did that we “lost time” in doing.  My group reformed and Des took the lead.  The man on the end of the couch, Tom, told us for him it was his work he enjoyed most and lost time in doing.  He was an IT specialist, and had worked with computers since the 1960’s.  The other men were impressed to say the least. They said they didn’t understand computers and although Des had done a course in them, he still didn’t know how to use one.  Tom tried convincing Des and the other man Jim that they should try to learn how to use computers and encouraged them to get a smart phone!  He then demonstrated how he could use his Sony smart watch to check emails and how he could voice command his smart phone.  “Jesus! This is like Star Trek” Jim blurted, “Can you believe it?”   We laughed.

Jim told us that he also loved work and before he retired would lose time in the shop he owned.  Now he takes long coastal walks and “the scenery is beautiful” he told us. 

For Des, he remember how as a young boy he would lose time in a little hermitage he made for himself.  Near his childhood house, he told us, there was a thicket of brambles.  He managed to drag a sheet of linoleum under the brambles to form a base, over which he scattered piles of pine needles.  Over the thicket he draped a tarp.  The brambles pierced the tarp, and Des said the light used to shine through in glistening rays.  It sounded magical.  It was here that time passed without notice for Des. 

But Des told us then of how something really terrible had happened to him when he was sixteen.  I was quietly aghast at his revelation, but the other men did not flinch, they just sat quietly and listened.  We were all strangers to Des, yet he felt safe enough and comfortable enough to share this terrible misfortune that had befell him.  Des told us, this incident had a terrible affect on him and “for ten years I went into myself, I didn’t do well”.  But at the age of twenty-six Des started to come through his ordeal - “others had gone on and progressed; got degrees, families.  I had just started to come round and had been left behind”.  For him he began reading and writing.  “I loved writing essays and loved reading.  When I began reading I became interested in poetry, philosophy and theology.  This helped me greatly”, he said.  Des still writes and enjoys the art of Haiku – the Japanese art of short poetry.  He said he’s also still waiting on all the royalties from his writings to start flooding in, but it hasn’t happened yet!

I was moved by Des’ story and impressed at how the other men had gently listened. Then their attention turned to me, it was my turn to share.  I told the men of my love of painting, how I could get lost for hours while working on a canvas.  The process of mixing paint and applying paint to canvas, I find thoroughly relaxing and distracting; it is a retreat into my own world.  The men nodded and offered how they wished they too could paint.

After this group discussion, the room of men came back as a whole.  The training wrapped up and an open discussion unfolded.  The room was actually made up of three small men’s groups, who had come together for the morning to take part in the training.  The facilitator invited each group to tell us about their men’s group and what their group does.  The men spoke about trips they had been on, guest speakers who had given talks, activities they enjoyed and things they hoped to do in the near future.  Discussion ranged from philosophy to film, health to rheumatoid arthritis.  One man, Andrew, told us how, if he doesn’t change position every thirty minutes he completely seizes up “if you don’t use it, you lose it!” he proclaimed and the room laughed; he also told us he was “a grumpy old bastard” and one of the best exercises for older men was gardening, even though he “bloody hates it” himself! 

The facilitator then invited me ‘the man who has come a long way to be here today’ to tell the men a little about my research, given some of them are going to be participants in some focus groups.  I told the men in lay terms what I was up to and as I finished the men began talking.  Some of the organisers were visibly surprised at the level of engagement and what began to unfold.  My topic had caught the men’s attention and they began sharing their views on drugs and alcohol, and on younger men and the youth of today, to which the facilitator thankfully intervened “Oh now hold on! Hold it there men!  Save it for the focus groups, wait until then!  Jesus Clay, you’ll have no problem getting these men talking, you just wont be able to shut them up!” I laughed.   “Brilliant!” I thought.  My focus groups will be lively judging by the men’s reaction. 

After the training was complete some men approached me to ask questions about my research and express their interest in taking part.  We headed into another room for soup, sandwiches and cake.  The conversation flowed from one topic to another and I did my best to take it all in.

This was the first men’s group I had attended and I must admit I really enjoyed it.  I am use to working with young men who are often rough, rowdy and ready for action; however, this was a new energy for me.  The atmosphere around these men was still, gentle and warm.  These men were comfortable in their own skin, tolerant of each other, they weren’t trying to compete with each other nor assert themselves over one another.  They were happy to be simply in each other’s company.  I had arrived with my own preconceptions and assumptions but when I left, I brought with me new understanding and appreciation for age and what it brings with it.  I actually wished I could have spent a little more time with these men, I enjoyed their company and look forward to hopefully seeing them at some of my focus groups!

*Pseudonyms used throughout.

Clay Darcy, February 2015

However, Irish people generally have no problem talking about a stranger’s illicit drug use.  Nor for that matter do they have any difficulty in talking about alcohol, in fact many revel in it.  It’s a regular occurrence to hear Irish people talk about being on a night out and how much alcohol they drank, and how drunk they were.  Irish people have an exhaustive list of weird and wonderful words and phrases for being drunk – “hammered”, “squiffy”, “pissed”, “blotto-ed”, “skuttered”, “gee-eyed”, “bo-jangled”, “twisted”, “bolloxed”, “three sheets to the wind”, “langered”,  “ossafied”, “lamped” and the list goes on!  This is drug talk, yet very few Irish would consider it as such.  This is because very few Irish would include alcohol in their construct of a drug.  

My own PhD research is interested in Irish men’s views on men’s recreational use of illicit drugs, and how illicit recreational drug use contributes to the construction, display or maintenance of specific masculinities.  My research is still in its early phase.  However, recently I conducted a pilot focus group with a group of young Irish men.  Although still in the process of analysing the data, what emerges from the discussion is a distinctive way the young men engage in drug talk about alcohol.  This is not the focus of my research, but never-the-less I find it interesting.

In the focus group I was interested to learn whether participants had heard of men using drugs in a competitive way, as in who could consume the most.  Initially the group discussed men’s use of steroids and various types of tablet use.  However, when I asked them about alcohol, and whether alcohol was ever used in a competitive way, one participant Des** replied laughingly:  “ah yeah”  … “I didn’t get sick last night … ah damn!”   Des was amused at recalling his own drinking experiences and his laughter is indicative of the general social acceptance in Ireland of men being drunk.  What is interesting is that being drunk, and in fact being so drunk you puke, carries no significant social stigma for men in Ireland.  Within this group having vomited was part of their normal drinking practices and for them indicates having drank a sufficient amount of alcohol, and therefore a demonstration of commitment to the task of drinking itself.

The conversation continued to flow and the men began discussing other drinking experiences.  They spoke about doing the Twelve Pubs of Christmas, a competitive drinking game where the participant must consume at least one alcoholic drink in twelve different public houses.  The group then turned to a holiday they had shared, and again their focus turned to who had or hadn’t vomited:

Alex:                We all went over to Mercy.  Remember that?  Everyone was like “who got sick last night?”  … “Who got sick last
                              night”
Nathan:          Nine times (Nathan laughs)
Liam:               Me and Ben were the only ones that didn’t!
Nathan:          Yeah.
Des:                 I only got sick once.
Clay:                So …
Alex:                Think I only got sick once as well?
Liam:               Yeah basically it was a competition.

For Des and his fellow group members, not puking seems to suggest in their eyes not having had a good night out.  Vomiting for this group of men was a significant source of amusement and humour, but their laughter served to symbolically sanction and endorse their heavy drinking.  For many men, drinking a copious volume of alcohol is associated with the demonstration of hard or tough masculinities.  The way in which a man then holds his drink is indicative of his level of bodily control and thus mastery over alcohol.  For group member Liam, he proudly boasts that he and Ben were the “only ones that didn’t [vomit]”, suggesting they had demonstrated bodily control and acquired a certain status among their peers.  Not vomiting for this group of young men is however a double bind, on one hand represented bodily control and agency over alcohol, but contradictorily it also represents a failure to achieve a sufficient state of drunkenness. 

Many scholars have demonstrated the entwinement of alcohol and masculinity, but for me this small focus group excerpt suggests, at least for this group, these men engage is a specific type of drug talk, specifically when talking about alcohol.  This type of drug talk is one where humour is used to mitigate the reality of men’s harmful drinking practices.  It is generally recognised that drinking so much that you vomit represents harmful heaving drinking practices and presents a significant risk to the individual and broader community.  Yet among this group of young Irish men competitive drinking and subsequent vomiting provide specific status and acceptance within their peer group. 

© Clay Darcy, December 2014

* This blog has been published at http://masculinities101.com/2014/12/03/irish-men-talking-drugs-alcohol-puke-and-the-twelve-pubs/ 
**Participants have been given pseudonyms

Further Reading:
Campbell, H. (2000) ‘The Glass Phallus: Pub(lic) Masculinity and Drinking in Rural New Zealand’, Rural Sociology, Vol. 65, (4), pp. 562-581.
Gough, B. and Edwards, G. (1998) ‘The beer talking: four lads, a carry out and the reproduction of masculinities’, The Editorial Board of The Sociological Review, (1998), pp. 409-435.
Kimmel, M. S. (2008) Guyland: The Perilous World Where Boys Become Men, London: Harper.
Lemle, R. and Mishkind, M.E. (1989) ‘Alcohol and Masculinity’, Journal of Substance Abuse Treatment, Vol. 2, (1989), pp.213-222.
Loughran, H. (2010) ‘Drunk Talk: A Language for Intoxication’, Journal of Alcohol and Drug Education, Vol. 54. (1), pp. 7-13.

As a young man I used to dye it but eventually I grew accustomed to and comfortable with my white locks.  However, over the past year or so my hair has begun a slow but noticeable migration elsewhere!  I am going bald and this realisation has been like a double kick in the crotch!  

At this point you may be thinking … vanity … Clay is just vain, get over it!  But it’s only when you start to lose something you realise its importance.  It turns out, hair is important – or so we are led to believe!  I have never really been precious with my hair, nor have I been overly concerned with styling my white locks.  I stopped dying it many moons ago.  I haven’t been to a barber in about 10 years, preferring to cut my own hair with a razor at home.  I never felt entirely comfortable in the barber’s chair; maybe Sweeney Todd had a bigger negative impact on me than others!  But now that I am losing my hair it brings mixed feelings.  The way in which my hair is migrating leaves me at the cross road of … to comb over … or not to comb over? 

I used to laugh to myself at men with comb overs, especially on those windy days when their comb over was transformed into a Mohawk, or trap door, or some wispy creature clinging for dear life to the side of their head.  But in recent windy days I have caught glimpses of myself in shop windows and car mirrors, and low and behold I appear to be styling the very same hair-do as the men I formerly giggled at … KARMA!  My newly found concern for my receding hairline has focused my attention on how embedded hair is within gender constructs but it also brings about a deep personal realisation.

Hair is hugely symbolic and is a significant element in how we present ourselves.   The malleable nature of hair allows it to be shaped and coloured in a multitude of ways, or removed entirely.  Hair is a public demonstration of our civilised ways.  Styling your hair is an act of cultural conformity and a visual display of how removed we are from nature and wildness (Hirschman, 2002).  Hair is important for men and women, young and old.  Hair is an intrinsic element of our identity, and new hairstyles are often symbolic announcements of a change in self (Hirschman, 2002).  Particular hairstyles have been associated with certain subcultural groups - like the coloured Mohawk of the Punk Rockers or the long hair of the Heavy Metal Rockers.  Hair is a cultural symbol as much as a personal reflection of identity. 

Historically and still to this day, hair has many associations, and the symbolism of hair itself has been greatly researched by anthropologists (Synnott, 1987).  Some of who proposed that long hair often indicated unrestrained sexuality, while short hair represented restricted sexuality and a close shaven head was a sign of celibacy (Leach, 1958, in Synnott, 1987).  Although the association of hair length and sexuality may not still hold true, what does persist is how from an early age we are socialised as being connected to our hair.  Girls are told how pretty their pigtails are and boys that their spikey hair is cool, and so on.  From this early age boys and girls are taught how hair is gendered.  This is also when and how we begin our emotional attachment to our hair and it begins to form part of our public identity (Manning, 2010). 

As outlined, hairstyles are highly gendered and although there is greater acceptance of ‘alternative’ hairstyles on men and women, the power of hegemony makes many raise an eyebrow at the man wearing long hair with an accessorised hair band, or a woman with a closely shaven head.  Conventional society pressures us to conform to normative gender hairstyles.

All of this brings me back to my own dilemma of sorts.  The real issue isn’t actually how I should wear my thinning hair (whether I should embrace the comb over fully) but what my hair loss represents to me.  Talking about comb overs is just a ruse, a trivialisation of something that is actually a little more worrying (to me).  I think much of my personal angst at my hair loss centres two key issues - choice and self-awareness.  I have worn my hair very short at different stages of my life, no big deal, however; now in this instance my own choice has been removed.  I cannot choose to keep my hair, it’s going and there’s feck all I can do about it.  My inability to hold onto my hair is a powerful reminder of the lack of control we have over our bodies.  This challenges the notion that we are in control of ourselves.  We do our best to shape and mould our bodies but there is a significant limit to our influence. 

The second issue at play here is self-awareness.  I think I still imagine myself to some degree as a young 20 something year old, however, I have aged and I haven’t really considered this much before.  I’m not ancient by any means but can I still refer to myself as a spring chicken?  Doubtful!  Losing my hair marks a new phase of my life, one that requires me to readjust how I see myself.  It may not all be bad news either and may present new opportunities.  I might actually have a little fun with my wispy comb over before it eventually gets the chop.  And you know, maybe the real motive for men wearing comb overs is to spread a little cheer.  Maybe their real intention is spread a little happiness and make people giggle at their comb overs especially on those windy wild days!  Unlikely?  Yep!

Either way, for now I think I’ll try spread a little cheer and do my dammed-est to hang on to what wisps I have left.  So, I will comb over … just for a little wispy while longer!

© Clay Darcy, October 2014.

References:
Hirschman, E.C. (2002) ‘Hair as Attribute, Hair as Symbol, Hair as Self’, Presentation to the Association for Consumer Research International Gender Conference, Dublin Ireland (June 2002), pp. 355-365.
Manning, J. (2011) ‘ The Sociology of Hair: Hair Symbolism Among College Students’, Social Sciences Journal, Vol. 10 (1), pp. 34-48.
Synnott, A. (1987) ‘Shame and glory: a sociology of hair’, The British Journal of Sociology, Vol. 38 (3), pp. 381-413.

Whether you love it or loathe it, social media is omnipresent and every day millions of people upload millions of photographs to their social media pages for the visual consumption of friends, family and complete strangers.  John Berger (1972: 2) states that ‘every image embodies a way of seeing’.  Images posted on social media reveal much about those who made them, particularly how they view the world the around them.  Unfortunately social media, through the types of images displayed there, can be used to reinforce dysmorphic ideas about our bodies and problematic views on gender and gender “normativity”.  Recently, I have been thinking about the types of visual representations of men and women that communicate dysmorphic or problematic messages, and specifically how others see [interpret] these representations.  What does a self-made image of a man or woman posted on a social media site mean to others who view them?  And to what degree can they impact on the spectator?  Do such images hold meaning for the spectator, are they more than a fleeting visual curiosity or distraction?  If such images do hold meaning; what meaning exactly?  I know of course the simple answer to these questions is – it depends!  Depends on the image and depends on who the spectator is.  None-the-less, I find this an interesting line of enquiry. 

Berger (1972: 58) suggests that within art ‘women are depicted in a quite different way from men – not because the feminine is different from the masculine – but because the “ideal” spectator is always assumed to be male and the image of the woman is designed to flatter him’.  I wonder how this applies to contemporary representations of men and women on social media?  Do the same assumptions of the ideal spectator that may have applied to works of fine art, have any resonance within the sphere of social media?  I’m not so sure.  However, that is not to say hegemonic notions of gender are not significant influencers in the construction and interpretation of images posted on social media.  Exploring the notion of an ideal spectator within the forum of social media is complex, and without a consideration of the subjectivity of an image may be redundant altogether. 

Visual representations are after all highly subjective, and the interpretation of an image is informed by pre-existing assumptions held by the spectator.  However, if the spectator has been heavily influenced by prevailing hegemonic notions, it is fair to say these notions will in turn impact on the spectator’s interpretation of an image posted on social media.  Images may communicate using symbols or actions commonly associated with prevailing hegemonic notions, in this case the interpretation of the image will be obviously influenced by these symbols and actions, thus simultaneously reinforcing and perpetuating the meaning of the symbol or action.

The bread and butter of the visual arts lie in its subjectivity.  Two individuals can look at the same abstract painting and come away with entirely different interpretation of what it depicts.  Moreover, the same two individuals can look at a hyper-realistic portrait and yet differ on what the image communicates.  Demonstrating the subtleties of interpretation and the intrinsic difference in human judgement about truth and reality.  Visual representations of men and women on social media are rarely abstract, they are more often explicit in representation, yet there exists an applicability of subjectivity.  Even though representations on social media communicate in a visual language that is generic and lucid, there may exist a degree of ambiguity.  Much of this ambiguity is determined by the clarity of the image in its ability to communicate and the individual spectator who sees the image, and their ability to interpret.  None-the-less, a very many of the representations of women and men posted on social media appear to clearly communicate problematic notions about gender.  Many social media images are overtly pejorative, self-demeaning or simply serve to perpetuate dysmorphic beliefs about our bodies.

This has got me thinking, whether anyone is purposefully using representations of men and women via social media to challenge gender stereotypes, problematic notions of gender normativity and body normativity.  My past experience in the visual arts exposed me to artists, such as, Barbara Kruger, Zoe Leonard, and Cindy Sherman.  Artists who made femininity and the female form subjects of their work and whom in different ways confront the ideal spectator that Berger above refers to.  In my search to find someone using representations of men and women on social media that challenge dysmorphic ideas about our bodies and problematic views on gender and gender normativity, I came across three artists who I would like to highlight here.  These artists’ work, I believe are visually powerful, deeply meaningful and engaging.  Each artist’s work manages to successfully confront and challenge contemporary constructs of gender and gender normativity. 

Lorenzo Triburgo

Lorenzo Triburgo a New York artist residing in Portland Oregon, produced a series of photographic work in 2009 entitled Transportraits.  This portraiture series of transgender (when someone's gender identity or expression does not match their assigned sex) men examines and questions representations of American masculinity.  The work intended to question the origin of American male identity subtly interrogates notions of heroism.  Each heroic style portrait, set against an oil painting influenced by the late American landscape painter Bob Ross, depicts a transgender man posed looking above or to the side of the spectator.  None of the men gaze directly at the spectator, giving them a reflective and somewhat distant look, untouchable to the viewer.  The men look proud, confident and content, each communicating a subtle sense of achievement and heroism.  Full of vivid colour, this portraiture series is gentle but strong, elusive yet honest; an interesting commentary on what is perceived to be “real” masculinity. 

Sara Swaty

Sara Swaty originally from St. Louis, is a Los Angeles based photographer who explores gender expressions, gender roles and gender boundaries through her photographic work.  Sara’s work is creative, powerful and energised.  Pink and Blue and In Between and Outside are two collections of photographs that explore gender constructs and in different ways challenge the male / female binary.  Pink and Blue, with matching colour scheme, vividly depicts men and women in domestic and imagined settings.  These images are visually powerful and glossy, loaded with symbolism and metaphor.  In contrast In Between and Outside presents candid images that are more visually raw.  These photographs explore gender identity and the body, blurring the division between masculine and feminine.  Challenging other images that serve to perpetuate dysmorphic ideas about our bodies.  The subjects of In Between and Outside are individuals born into a gender that they do not identify with and others who have made physical transitions to change their bodies.  

Leland Bobbé

Leland Bobbé has worked as a professional photographer for 30 years.  A native of New York, his Half Drag – a different kind of beauty, is a collection of photographs that provide a unique perspective on drag queens.  Leland’s work is exceptionally well realised.  His photographs are beautiful, visually charged with drama and at the same time offer a unique vulnerability.  The dual images - half drag queen / half man are hugely engaging.  Visually these photographs are rich in subject matter, colour and texture.  Not only do Leland’s photographs engage our curiosity, they challenge normative ideas about gender roles and hegemonic notions of masculinity.  

Each of these three artists explore similar ideas about gender identity and gender roles, yet each bring a unique understanding of and insight into the socially constructed nature of gender.  Visually each artist confronts the spectator with images that challenge hegemonic notions about gender, and present the viewer with subject matter that demonstrates the complexity, fluidity and indeterminateness of gender.  To view more work by these artists visit their websites - details below.

© Clay Darcy, August 2014

For more information on...
Lorenzo Triburgo go to www.triburgo.com or visit his Facebook page- www.facebook.com/lorenzotriburgophotography
Sara Swaty go to www.saraswatyphoto.com or visit her Facebook page- www.facebook.com/saraswatyphoto
Leland Bobbé go to www.lelandbobbe.com or visit his Facebook page- www.facebook.com/leland.bobbe.studio

References:
Berger, J. (1972) Ways of Seeing, Great Britain: Penguin Books. 

The countryside is often regarded by urban dwellers as being quiet, uneventful and dare I say it a bit boring!  However, my most recent trip down to the rolling hills of Wexford was one of the most surreal and eventful I’ve had in many years.

The weekend began with a local amateur drama production in a small town nestled in the hills between Bunclody and Carnew.  The production was staged in the local community hall, which is adjoined to the local pub on one side and a children’s crèche on the opposite.  There is also a recycling bank, children’s play area, a holy grotto and out door gym directly outside the community hall.  One of the oddest combinations of amenities I’ve ever come across!  You can drop your child to crèche, have a work out, say your novenas and then have a pint, all with not having to walk more than 15 meters in any one direction.

Never either have I been to a drama production where you can sit in anticipation of the show with a pint of Guinness in hand – brilliant!  The production we attended was a comedy skit about a farmer ‘Bob Haigh-Turner’ (say it out loud) who reluctantly weds an ugly woman ‘Barb Dwyer’, played by a man, in this case a young local electrician.  The bridesmaids were two local farmers who have seen more harvests than I’ve had hot dinners, dressed in purple wigs and colourful frocks.  

The play was a roaring success, judging by the reaction of the crowd.  The majority of laughs were at the expense of the men who were dressed as women.  There were heckles and jeers from the crowd, tears running down cheeks, exclamations of disbelief, and camera flashes left and right.   The interval was 20 minutes, at which point everyone crowded into the bar for a refill.  At the end of the production as one half of the audience spilled into the bar again, the other half cleared the chairs from the hall for a set dance.  A local band took to the stage and began singing songs about their mammies, little robins and their favourite types of heifer.   Whilst the cast of the play (still in costume) danced with family and friends, other set dancers spun around the hall like little figurines in snow globes.  Platters of food were distributed, and while people chewed on sausages and chicken they laughed and joked about the men in drag.

I wondered whether, if the play had been about transgendered men, dressed as women, what might the reaction of the crowd have been like?  My guess is that it would have been entirely different.  This production was not intended to challenge gender stereotypes nor raise awareness of transgender issues; it was a comedy skit.   However, the men dressed as women in this context seemed to me to reinforce normative gender stereotypes.  Certainly the make-up and costumes were exaggerated and brass, and this added to comic effect.  The men in drag looked awkward and uncomfortable, they laughed nervously and seemed unsure as how exactly to behave.  These men in dresses were subjects of hilarity and ridicule.  It was as if humour was being used to define what masculinity is not.  Maybe my interest in gender studies has resulted in me reading too much into this comedy skit.  But it does raise the question, why is a man in a dress so funny?  The answer may lie in normative gender stereotypes, which are so strongly defined and socially regulated, that when we are met with something outside the norm we react with disbelief, laughter and ridicule.

Leaving the play aside, the following day my wifey and I headed off for a leisurely drive, and found our way to a small town called Clonegal, close to the Carlow / Wexford boarder.  We ventured up towards Huntington Castle, where we enjoyed some tea and biscuits before taking a guided tour of the house.  Whilst enjoying our tea, two women walked passed us in pink and purple velvet robes, each wearing crowns and other mystical type necklaces and bracelets.  My wife and I presumed it was all part of the tour.  Huntington Castle, it turns out, is home to an international multi-faith religion known as the Fellowship of Isis (not to be confused with the acronym ISIS for the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant militia).  The Fellowship of Isis celebrates the feminine aspect in all religions and the basement of the castle features a variety of temples and shrines dedicated to a variety of deities.   Shortly after the two women in robes passed, a man and woman in similar apparel approached.  My wife’s eyebrows raised and a small smile emerged on her face.

The tour of Huntington Castle was excellent and the interior is filled with beautiful rooms steeped in history.  Our guide, Harry Durdin-Robertson, told us about the lives of his ancestors, the many of whom continue to reside in the castle in ghostly form.  The basement temples were fascinating and eerie.  As our tour ended amongst the temples and shrines our guide informed us ‘it seems your not going to be sacrificed today!’ to which the group giggled.  With our tour complete, my wife and I continued to explore the grounds of the castle.  An elderly man, with a long pony tail and hands full of silver rings, approached very quickly on a motorised chair, and with a skid and a grunt became stuck on a grass embankment.  I approach the man to help dislodge his chair.  I joked saying ‘you need to get all-terrain tyres!’  He laughed, stopped, looked at me funnily and asked ‘… are you going to the ceremony?’  I pondered for a moment, curiosity sparked and tempted to say yes, but my wife shot me a ‘don’t you dare look’ and I replied ‘no, are you?’  He was, and once freed from the embankment he tore away in his chair at top speed. 

With the man speeding away towards a wooded area, a parade of people became visible; dressed in robes, they danced and sang through the trees.  My wife and I stood and watched in amazement.  It reminded me of scenes from the 1973 film ‘The Wicker Man’ featuring Christopher Lee.  The group were celebrating the feast of Lughnasadh, marking the beginning of the harvest season.  My wife was anxious I might be tempted to join the ceremony and so I was ushered promptly back towards the car park!

That evening our exploration of the hills of Wexford continued with a visit to the ‘Holy Grail’ restaurant in Ballindaggin, where in the surrounds of medieval style I enjoyed one of the best Indian curry’s I’ve ever had!  The Holy Grail although situated in a tiny rural ‘village’ (a pub, church and adjoining grave yard) is renowned for its Indian menu.  The head chef is Indian, as is the kitchen and waiting staff. 

My weekend in rural Wexford was as always great, however, this weekend was far from being quiet and boring.  It was in fact both comic and alternative, mysterious and diverse.  The weekend featured three distinct communities, the first supporting their local amateur drama production, the second celebrating an ancient religious festival and the third bring a taste of India to rural Wexford.  The drama production and proceeding dance was a mix of fun, friendship and frivolity, even if the play inadvertently reinforced hegemonic gender stereotypes.  Huntington Castle was a mix of old and new, with a history that goes back nearly 1000 years to the monks that first built on the land there, to a new age spirituality that celebrates femininity and advocates peace.  The Holy Grail with its Indian spices in medieval surrounds provides a case study for how the global can become local. 

The rural is anything but quiet, uneventful or boring, judging by our recent weekend visit, which was a mad mix of cross dressing farmers, chanting high priestesses and creamy Indian curries.  The diversity of urban towns and cities are equally matched in the green hills of the rural countryside … you just have to drive a little further to find it!

© Clay Darcy, August 2014    

Last month I wrote about my artistic interest in Selfies, this month I have a blog published on masculinities101.com that continues with the Selfies topic but examines it with a gender lens.  To read my 'Doing Selfies' blog at masculinities101.com - click here.

Everyone seems to be taking selfies these days - politicians, celebrities, sporting icons, ordinary Joe Soaps and even academics!  However, selfies are not a new phenomena.  Humans have been making self-portraits for hundreds of years, yet contemporary selfies do represent something new.  The word selfie itself has become incorporated into many vernaculars.  The origins of the modern day selfie are intertwined within the development social media websites and their ever-increasing popularity.  Selfies and 'profile pics’  have become an important identity display and form of communicative interaction for many.

However, my interest in selfies rests within their aesthetic value, and the degree to which they may be called art.  In fact I would argue that selfies represent an artistic revolution.  What other art form or medium has attained the same level of social saturation?  

Many might argue that selfies are not art, but I will happily argue, very many of them are.  Art is after all but a social construct.  The artist Marcel Duchamp took everyday objects back in the early 1900’s and exhibited them, forcing us to question the difference between art and life.  We ourselves dictate what is art and what is not.  It is the artist’s act of choice and the value placed on such creation, which transforms objects into art.  Skill and mastery are important but are not always requisite for a creation to become art.  However, there is a hierarchy of aesthetic that is dominant.  A set of rules that if applicable make some creations more ascendant than others.  This aesthetic is culturally bound.  

We now live in a culture of instantaneous everything.  Everything is getting faster and more accessible.  In the past self-portraits were labour intensive and may have been limited to those with artistic skill or those owning specialist photographic equipment.  Now most people have an entire art and photographic studio in the software contained on their phone.   It is the combination of the availability of equipment and software on people’s phones, in addition to the phenomena of online identities that has produced selfie-mania! 

But back to my argument – selfies are art, maybe not all of them but a very many.  The difference for me between the two types of selfies lies amongst those that have involved the act of choice and those that have not.  Those that have not involved the act of choice are communicative and often spontaneous; they present a message about a particular time and place, they are simply photographic.  However, it is the selfies that have involved the act of choice, that I argue are art.  It is the selfie that has been posed and considered.  The one made with intention to look a certain way and communicate a specific meaning.  It is the one that has been made with the intention to display.   It may have involved the use of props or the application of photographic filters.

Either way selfies represent new and interesting artistic and social phenomena, worthy of more discussion and greater enquiry.  The contemporary popularity of selfies is unquestionable.  A recent song by The Chainsmokers, entitled “SELFIE” which is displayed on Youtube, had at the time I watched it an incredible 142,806,057 views.  

So if you haven’t yet, I think may be it's time … come on and take a selfie!

© Clay Darcy, June 2014