Limerick Exhibition remembers, David Lilburn and Jim Savage
Lines
That Outlive Us
Limerick
remembers David Lilburn and Jim Savage
Two faces look out from the
exhibition leaflet. David Lilburn’s self-portrait is a restless gathering of
lines, hair escaping in every direction, the face emerging through an intricate
web of marks. Beside him, Jim Savage appears in browns and ochres, his features
built from patches of light and shadow. Neither image offers the polished
reassurance of a publicity photograph. These are artists looking hard at
themselves and leaving us something more interesting than a likeness.
They make
a compelling introduction to Cuimhniodh (remembered), the exhibition at
Limerick City Gallery of Art bringing together work by Lilburn and Savage.
Running until 8 November, it offers an opportunity to consider two substantial
contributions to the artistic life of this city and beyond.
There is
an unavoidable sadness in seeing their dates: Lilburn, 1950–2021; Savage,
1950–2019. Both were born in the same year. Yet the work gives us somewhere
else to begin. A memorial records that someone lived. An exhibition allows
their questions, habits of observation and particular ways of seeing to remain
active among us.
Where the
line begins
Drawing
was central to both artists. That might sound an unremarkable thing to say
about people who made pictures, but drawing has often been treated as
preparation: the sketch before the painting, the notebook before the supposedly
finished statement.
For
Lilburn and Savage, it was a primary practice, deserving attention in its own
right. Both also advocated its importance within art making, particularly in
relation to printmaking. This exhibition places that commitment alongside their
work as collaborators, publishers and curators, with examples across drawing,
printmaking and painting.
There is
something wonderfully direct about a drawn mark. It carries evidence of a
decision, sometimes a hesitation, sometimes a sudden certainty. We can follow
it with our eyes and almost imagine the hand travelling across the surface.
Even an unfamiliar subject can become approachable through that recognition.
Limerick
has good reason to value such work. An artistic community depends on people
willing to keep looking, making and sharing what they discover, long after the
novelty has worn off.
Lilburn’s
restless eye
Lilburn
studied at Trinity College Dublin, in Urbino and at Limerick School of Art and
Design. His practice centred on drawing and printmaking, exploring memory,
identity and place. He exhibited in Ireland and internationally, building a
body of work in which technical accomplishment served a searching intelligence.
His
self-portrait, reproduced in the leaflet, rewards a second look. The apparent
unruliness of the marks does not prevent recognition; it produces it. The face
seems caught in the business of being alive, with all the untidiness that
entails. There is no need to invent a mood or attach a private confession to
it. The marks themselves provide enough conversation.
Another
reproduction, the drypoint Blacksod Bay 1, introduces a different
subject while retaining that sense of an image discovered through line. Dark
uprights, sweeping marks and open areas give the small reproduction an
arresting energy. It invites the viewer to examine how a place can be suggested
without every inch being explained. For readers and writers, that economy has a
familiar appeal. A successful image, like a good poem, can leave space for the
person encountering it.
Savage’s
ground
Savage’s
training took him through Manchester School of Art, Chelsea College of Art and
the Slade School of Fine Art in London. He moved to Ireland in 1982 and taught
at Limerick School of Art and Design until his retirement in 2016.
That is a
considerable stretch of a working life given to teaching. Alongside the work an
artist leaves behind, there is the less easily catalogued influence of a
classroom: an observation offered at the right moment, a standard insisted
upon, a student encouraged to persevere. The gallery walls can represent only
part of that contribution.
Savage
became known for large, meticulously detailed landscape drawings. Connemara
Landscape, a mixed media work on paper, shows rocky ground, low vegetation
and distant mountains. Its interest extends across the foreground. The eye has
stones and rough terrain to negotiate before it reaches the horizon.
Anyone
accustomed to the west will recognise the temptation to look immediately
towards the mountains. Here, the nearer ground asks for its share of attention.
There is plenty to occupy us before we arrive at the grand view.
When
poetry met print
The
connection between these artists went beyond a shared respect for drawing.
Together they founded Occasional Press
to publish projects involving art and poetry. That undertaking deserves
particular attention in a city whose cultural life includes so many encounters
between the written word and the visual image.
Publishing
gives collaboration a physical form. A page can bring different imaginations
into proximity while allowing each its own character. The reader turns it,
pauses and returns. The scale of the encounter becomes personal.
Their
collaborative activities included the Connemara Project with Ballynahinch
Castle, inviting poets and visual artists to respond to the Atlantic landscape.
Associated collaborators included Dorothy Cross, Donald Teskey, Tony Curtis,
Joe Wilson, Colm Tóibín and Mick O’Dea.
The names
indicate the range of the company involved, but the underlying invitation is
equally interesting. Give several artists a place to consider and the responses
will differ. One may attend to a contour, another to a phrase, another to the
difficult relationship between memory and what lies before the eye.
Such
projects make room for discovery between disciplines. They also require the
practical generosity of people prepared to bring others together and see an
idea through to publication.
A city’s
living memory
The
exhibition acknowledges the support of Romi van Son Lilburn, Sarah O’Flaherty
Savage and their families, with loans from the University of Limerick
Collection and private collectors. Behind an exhibition of this kind are people
who have kept work safe and made it available for others to encounter.
A visit
also offers a useful change of pace. We see so many pictures now that looking
can become a hurried act of recognition before the next image arrives. In a
gallery, a single work can hold its ground. You can move closer, step back and
test your first impression. With artists for whom drawing mattered so deeply,
that extra time seems appropriate. Their work gives the eye something to do
beyond simply registering a subject and moving on.
For
Limerick, the invitation is simple: go and look. There is no entrance charge
and no requirement to arrive armed with the language of art criticism. Begin with
a face, a stretch of landscape or whatever catches your attention.
Cuimhniodh
(remembered) continues at Limerick City Gallery of Art,
Carnegie Building, Pery Square, until 8 November. Two artists are gone. Their
work still has visitors to meet.

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