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| Anthony Haughey: Shotgun cartridges, Armagh/ Louth border, Ireland, 1999 colour photograph; courtesy Gallery of Photography |
Within conflict the notion of site is of great importance. It is often the identification of a territory as significant or associated with a specific group or historical event which acts as the catalyst for the staging of brutality and atrocity. In just the same way it is often the memory and reverberation of the conflict in the minds of the victims which gives these sites their postconflict gravity and significance.
Contrary to the popular conceit that the world is more civilised than ever, there is no shortage of such ‘sites’ to which victims of conflict return. Whether in a field in Antrim or a dirt road in Rwanda, it is the search for the missing elements which lead us back to these places and it is as much a search for meaning as it is for physical evidence.
In this atmosphere the smallest of items retain a potent significance. A wristwatch, an engraved cigarette lighter or an item of clothing can engender a feeling of loss and tragedy which differs essentially to the realism of direct footage of conflict. Looking through the long list of prosecutions pending at The International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY), it is clear that the process of sifting through the ‘sites’ of grievance is not simply a physical, geographical one but also a virtual one. The death in March 2006 of Slobodan Milosevic provoked an unmitigated sense of disappointment at the loss of a vital link to the events in the former Yugoslavia in the decade beginning 1989 when he reversed Kosovan autonomy, effectively triggering conflict. The vacuum his death left in the process of resolution and accountability seemed to emphasise the importance of verbal testimony as the only effective way back to the ‘site’ or origin of the events.
Anthony Haughey’s ongoing project, Disputed Territory, has for several years, been examining the aftermath of conflict in Northern Ireland, Bosnia and Kosovo. The centrepiece of the show at the Gallery of Photography in Dublin is a multi media installation titled ‘Resolution’. It comprises 24 light boxes containing items such as wristwatches, combs and keys, bagged and numbered as evidence of terrible events. Amongst these are images of the scars left by bullet wounds which are presented in a clinical and unsentimental way. Accompanying these forensic snapshots is the recorded, audio testimony of people who survived the various purges and massacres. They tell of astonishing escapes and are recounted with a matter-offactness which echoes the chillingly methodical killings themselves.
There are difficulties implicit in the presentation of material such as this. Haughey is aware of the responsibility to avoid over-dramatization and so the images and sound are presented as more of a virtual environment than an installation. It is important not to force the empathies of the viewer and the images on their own succeed in this restraint. The installation as a whole however, paradoxically loses some of its impact for the very reason of its artfully considered presentation. Beyond the artifice of the installation it is the relentless authenticity of the testimonies themselves which impress themselves upon us.
This same quiet intensity however, permeates what is arguably the strongest element of Haughey’s project; still-photography. These images are slow-burners. Devoid of obvious drama, they slowly release their significance through the implied horrors they represent. Loss of evidence is made tangible when we read the title of one image of charred metal structures scattered around an empty lot; ‘Destroyed files 1999, Bosnia’. The seeming banality of a group of men digging earth in Pristina provokes a sinister anticipation of what they might be digging for. The scene itself is captured from a distance and the entire composition is evocative of the great historical dramas of Poussin, played out amidst the grandiose beauty of an indifferent landscape. If the aftermath of conflict is the agonizing search for meaning in apparently meaningless events, for logic in a cycle of chaos, then this is evoked with almost painful beauty in the image of a single naked light bulb hanging from a wire over an empty field in Kosovo,1999. The search for missing persons involves the recovery of personal effects and the meticulous examination of the actual sites of violence. These very sites however, can be seen as impassive, empty allotments, unyielding of meaning. Any enlightenment and resolution must be supplied by the victims themselves.
There may be a multitude of resentments and tensions which can converge in conflict through a sequence of events but there is no single logic which can be applied to the horrors that follow. In this very way we are left to speculate on the reason why the faces of the children in a photograph found at Vaso Pasha primary school in Kosovo have been scratched out. This is only one of the powerful mysteries Haughey presents, which should ensure that the events of this, all too recent decade of havoc, remain in our minds for years to come.
Robbie O’Halloran is an artist and writer on art.
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| Anthony Haughey: Men digging, Pristina, Kosovo, 1999 colour photograph; courtesy Gallery of Photography |
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