Finger on the Pulse

ARTS: Interactive exhibition by Philip Fogarty opens at Cavan Townhall for three days

Through boundary-pushing technology “confused musician” turned artist Philip Fogarty offers people the chance to have some fun tapping into their own creative side.

In one element Philip’s exhibition ‘Pulse Music’, free at Cavan’s Townhall from February 1-3, sees audience members control a digitised stick figure via two glowing orbs. A theremin effect is added to provide further variation both to movement and sound.

Projection becomes canvas and the vivid imagery that dances across surfaces envelopes the space in a surreal symphony of light and movement.

An image behind another multi-layered effect borrowed from the Galway-based artist’s past work- a sort of ‘Ghost in the Shell’- drifts in and out of hazy consciousness in a moveable fog of ones and zeros.

As visitors navigate the space around them their presence becomes an integral part of the artwork, shaping and moulding to their movement and sounds in real-time. The fusion of technology and artistic expression blurs the lines between creator and observer.

Like Masamune Shirow’s manga masterpiece Philip explores a wide range of philosophical themes, with Pulse Music focusing particularly on creative self-identity.

The multi-instrumentalist explains that it was during one of his stage performances years ago that he was suddenly struck with the notion to turn the microphone on his audience. His intention was to DJ their sounds back at them. Admittedly, it took some getting use to. But eventually the message got through, and collective fun and merriment ensued, each trying to outdo the next with ever more wacky and wonderful contributions.

Versions of Pulse Music have been done in the past. During Covid for Culture Night in Galway Philip beamed a much bigger version across one side of the city’s usually austere courthouse. The reaction was eye-opening.

“I’ve always been bothered by the fourth wall,” says Philip who describes himself as “confused musician” who merely “wandered” into a world of visual manipulation.

He speaks passionately too about how “back in the day” people would compose their “own tunes” notwithstanding the hardship of the times.

The outcomes formed an essential part of what was a widely accepted “social process”, where rarely would a person appear without a party piece in hand.

What irks Philip today is the growing sense of societal shame attached to expression, something he feels hinders not helps future generations.

“There was a time where you were an essential element. You weren’t just an audience member.”

The drift towards consumption over production Philip sees all the more defined by the omnipresence of social media.

“Now you have people filming with phones as if it means ‘if I’m doing that it means I don’t have to interact’, like it excludes you entirely. You are there only to consume.”

Despite its perceived ills Philip acknowledges the importance of technology in his work, yet still considers the true heart of Pulse Music tethered to human cognition.

Philip disagrees too with the “narrative” that not everyone can or is qualified to create art.

“You can wear our music or like our clothes and in that way create your identity. But don’t dare do or think for yourself. The idea has become so strong now that people are having anxiety about expressing themselves.”

Philip adds that he wants people to “feel and remember” the freedom of expression. The Pulse Music exhibition is designed to challenge what are preconceived notions of art as a static entity, inviting introspection into the very nature of creativity and expression. The integration of coding introduces an element of unpredictability, ensuring that each encounter is a nuanced exploration.

The value of Philip’s work therefore is measured in more than simply the number of clicks, hearts, or thumbs up.

“If all we do is consume then we forget what it is to be part of the process,” muses Philip, who wants people attending Pulse Music to feel they too are an “essential part of the artistic process”.

“They say Beethoven was so deaf he thought he was a painter,” he chuckles when asked if sound or visuals are the more important element of his work.

What Philip covets most is “connectivity”.

He picks up his iPhone as an example of user friendly interface. The public at large don’t understand or tend to care about the inner workings just so long as they work. However, the vast majority will immediately understand how to use new and newer iterations of the same device after only the briefest of introductions.

“That’s essential. There has to be a learning curve of 10 seconds. Longer than that I’ve lost you, it’s a fail. It’s not accessible. The iPhone has more technological power than it took to put lads on the moon in 1969. It does all the running, and it’s made easy to use otherwise we wouldn’t buy it. I don’t just want my art to be accessible, I want it to be instinctual. Not overwhelming or intimidating.

“Sometimes it’s just nice that people can have fun. Art has to work, otherwise it just dies on its feet.

“Anybody can be weird. Weird is easy. But if you can’t bring people with you what’s the point?”