How can we ever know when our lives are going to change? Certainly, in Kilkenny on an October night in the late 1970s, it was hard to believe that anything in my life would change. I was 14 years old, bored and lonely, having just received my Inter Cert – now the Junior Cert – results, which were a disappointment to all, but not a surprise.
The youngest of three, my results, did not bring pride at home. The occasion passed without celebration, unlike in the cases of my older, high-achieving brother and sister. In those days success for girls had many measures. When discussing my results, the headmistress remarked to my father that “at least she is attractive – she has a chance of getting a good husband”. “A good husband” was not the answer my father wanted to hear; it wasn’t what I wanted to hear either.
So, in early October, on a balmy evening, during a late Indian summer, Dad and I drove the country roads from home to Kilkenny to hear Prof John A Murphy, UCC historian and NUI senator, deliver a lecture on Church and State in Ireland since the Famine. John A’s ricocheting through history, soaring up and down the musical scale, his voice reflecting his Macroom origins, ensnared me in the trap of heritage where, many decades later, I remain as a happy hostage.
In those days there was no such thing as a career in heritage. Most people with BAs became teachers. A small few became archaeologists and even fewer pursued postgraduate work. After completing my BA I was lucky enough to secure a place on the archival studies diploma in UCD. We were a small class of five students; one from Britain, one from the North and three from the Republic. It was hard work. Long days were spent in the upstairs rooms of the elegant Georgian house at 82 St Stephen’s Green learning about the science of history – the importance of the evidence, its preservation, protection and accessibility.
Harnessing energy from the sun in Ireland makes more than just environmental sense
When it comes to sustainability, smart companies will not take the foot off the pedal
Why recognition of prior learning works for business
Businesses need to transform their finance functions in order to compete and add strategic value
Professional heritage infrastructure was non-existent in Ireland back then. Working in this barren landscape meant that we, as student archivists, needed to know how to set up a professional heritage service from scratch, including business practices, buildings management, conservation techniques and so on.
Compulsory overseas placements broadened our horizons – in my case at the BBC Sound Archives and Written Records Centre, and with the National Archives of Canada. After the turmoil of internships, exams and final projects admittance as a member of a chartered professional association confirmed our credentials. For me, the archives diploma shaped my life. Those months in 82 St Stephen’s Green were times of intense learning. I lived and breathed heritage. I released my passion and, at last, found my tribe.
And now it is 2024 and after many years when heritage was starved of resources the sector is finally emerging from barren deprivation. It has seen exchequer funding growth of €170.2 million to €267.8 million between 2019 and 2023, which amounts to an increase of 174 per cent from 2019 levels (€97.6 million). The arts sector has seen a similar increase in exchequer funding, from €173.5 million between 2019 and 2023, which amounts to a funding increase of 95 per cent from 2019 (€183.5 million) to 2023 (€357.0 million). Exchequer funding for both sectors has increased by approximately the same amount, albeit from a different starting base.
Yes, challenges remain, including the definition of what we understand by heritage. Some of us in the heritage world believe that the Irish term oidhreacht more accurately captures the totality of our heritage, invoking as it does the legacy of transmitted knowledge, respect for nature, wisdom of previous generations and a duty of care.
Regrettably, however, the word heritage has, at times, become narrowed in usage, to a dangerous point, and is sometimes used as a background to almost exclusively invoke tourist consumption rather than an invitation to the slow, thoughtful reflection of the legacies of generations – reflection that these legacies deserve to receive. Reducing heritage to a tourism product is blinkered and does not give sufficient importance to much of the natural, built and cultural resource that constitutes the fullness of our heritage.
My work continues in heritage. But little did I know on that warm October night, sitting in the back of a sports hall in St Kieran’s College, Kilkenny, that the course of my life was being set. Prof John A Murphy was one of Ireland’s most eminent and erudite historians. He died in 2022 at the great age of 95. I was one of his students. Also, I had the privilege of working closely with him.
The 1995 exhibition Universitas marked 150 years of University College Cork. This was the first major exhibition that I curated. It included a long-buried statue of a young Queen Victoria. Given the weather of the time, two years before the Good Friday Agreement was signed, exhuming a forgotten statue of Queen Victoria from the university gardens on a stormy November night, cleaning it and exhibiting it, was a brave decision by the university and by me as curator. But, like many who are passionate about heritage, John A did not care about ruffling feathers.
His defence of my courageous curatorial stance was grounded in our shared conviction that turning the pages of history is more important than tearing them.