Bryan Flynn

A still image from a work in progress entitled “Border”.

In May 1977, during his annual summer visit to his grandfather's house in South Armagh, Northern Ireland, 11-year-old Brian Flynn was playing. He saw a group of soldiers searching the hedgerow at the edge of the property’s lawn. Flynn ran into the house, grabbed his Super-8 camera and shot 15 seconds of footage from a second-storey window. He didn’t know what he was shooting and admits he was scared. Looking back, he's amazed the lens of his camera wasn't seen and mistaken for the scope of a rifle.

That black-and-white footage is now an artwork entitled “Hedgerow.” The handheld camera moves from the lace-curtained window, across the grey summer sky, then to the yard below. It moves methodically along the hedge, capturing uniformed soldiers obviously searching for something. There is a small jump in the footage and the eerie scene repeats.

“Hedgerow” is a document of historical significance. It shows the foliage that formed the border separating Northern Ireland from the rest of the country and it records soldiers searching for the body of Captain Robert Nairac, an undercover British agent who was shot, and to this day, his body remains missing.

More than 30 years later, Brian Flynn continues to be haunted by this incident and other encounters with violence that stemmed from The Troubles, a colloquial term for armed struggles in Northern Ireland from roughly 1969 to 1985. He recalls, for example, running across police barricades where bombs had been exploded. By reinvestigating the footage in “Hedgerow” Flynn is able to deal with his childhood trauma. On a broader level, he sees the video as a metaphor for the struggle of an artist. This is probably the reason he describes his daily studio practice as exhausting and difficult. Art represents a process of uncertainty that he dreads. He explains that the studio is the place where, as an artist, he is most outside his comfort zone and where he can safely deal with failure.

Flynn’s art also reminds us that violence continues to shape our perceptions. He collects newspaper clippings of events, explaining that much of what we know is buried or hidden until the media exposes a story. However, events are the products of multiple viewpoints and many remain undisclosed. Flynn is not afraid to seek out the hidden meanings behind events. “Being secretive kills community,” he says.

By exposing incidents he creates opportunities for dialogue. His most recent work-in-progress is a sound-and-video installation tentatively titled “Border,” in which a former IRA member is interviewed. A thick Irish voice describes an ambush while Flynn’s hand draws a schematic diagram on a white piece of paper. Flynn is redrawing the map made by the interviewed man, who agreed to the audio recording but who would not allow his hand to be filmed.

A first generation Canadian, Flynn feels most at home in Ireland, where he spent childhood summers. Nine years after completing his bachelor of fine arts at Alberta College of Art & Design, he returned to Belfast to earn his masters of fine arts at the University of Ulster. He has since exhibited extensively in North America and Europe, including the prestigious International Biennial in Lulea, Sweden. A solo exhibition in 2004 and 2005 at the Art Gallery of Calgary featured his ambitious mural-sized portraits that were created from carpet underlay, a material that further underscores the revealing potential of Flynn’s work.

When not making art, Flynn is an amateur boxer who undertakes weekly gruelling workouts. Most people might see the ring and the studio as vastly different arenas, but not Flynn. Both demand his full presence, both require him to be alert and quick on his feet and, probably most importantly, both allow him to position himself in the midst of human conflict — exactly where he draws deep and personal artistic inspiration. He admits art is the most satisfying thing he can do. “After you get past the struggle, you beat it, and you feel most alive,” he says.

Peer Review is a series of articles about Calgary artists who maintain rigorous professional careers but may be unfamiliar to the general public.

Laurel Smith is a Calgary artist and educator whose art can be seen at Herringer Kiss Gallery.