An emotional homecoming for the 262 civilians killed in 1916

The centenary celebrations have been organised around the key names in the history books. James Connolly, Thomas Clarke, Patrick Pearse, Joseph Plunkett, Seán Mac Diarmada, Thomas MacDonagh and Éamonn Ceannt, are remembered as the seven signatories of the Proclamation.

Countess Markievicz, Margaret Skinnider, Hanna Sheehy-Skeffington and Elizabeth O'Farrell, among others, have become known as the women of the Rising. Forgotten among them, however, have been the civilians of the Rising.

During the Rising, 485 people were killed. Of these, 262 were civilians, ordinary people going about their day, caught in the crossfire (some of them literally).

"A lot of them were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, just crossing the road," says Sharon Harris-Byrne, one of the women behind the 1916 Sackville Street Art Project, which hopes to remember those civilians through art.

The project has created 262 houses, one for each civilian killed, built out of materials such as ceramics, wood, fabric and stone. The idea came to Ciara O’Keeffe, a ceramics teacher, while she was doing a project on dwellings.

“Houses are the heart of home. It’s a dwelling, and when there’s an empty space, there’s a question there: does it hold a history? Does it tell a story?” she says. “Everybody yearns for home, and hopes that even when we pass away, we’re going home. There’s this kind of association between a house, home, dwelling and the heart and what’s left behind, and it all merged into one. We said we would make a house that would be a ‘forever home’ for each civilian, that they would always be remembered.”

Open to everyone

It soon became apparent that they would need to broaden out the project to include more people. “Schools don’t have kilns, and a lot of places didn’t have the facilities, so it was a case of looking at who was going to get involved,” says Harris-Byrne.

It was important to O’Keeffe that the project be open to everyone, and not just so they could reach the goal of 262 houses. “The idea was 2016’s civilians would make a piece for 1916’s civilians, so it would just be ordinary people remembering ordinary people,” she says.

“Initially we were like, ‘We’re not going to get 262 people on board to do this. How will we do it?” says Harris-Byrne. “There’s always been a plan B and, we’ve already had to fall back on it and use it a few times, but we’re pulling it together. We have spare houses, back-ups for houses people weren’t able to get finished.”

They compiled the list of all 262 civilians with the help of Glasnevin Cemetery, and approached schools, youth groups, prisons and individuals alike. Anyone who volunteered was then able to choose their own civilian to research and build a house for.

“There was one girl who picked her civilian to make a house for because his name was the same as her mother’s maiden name and she actually found out in her research that she’s related to him. There’s loads of these nuggets that are coming out now,” says O’Keeffe.

The volunteers

As well as Harris-Byrne, who is a lecturer,

and O'Keeffe, the main team included three others: Miriam Griffin, a beauty therapist; Maggie Owens, a teacher; and Eamonn Connell, who designed the website for the project. Although only O'Keeffe works in art, the rest of the group felt the stories of the civilians were worth telling and remembering.

All five were friends before the project and they volunteered their time and energy. “It’s all voluntary,” says O’Keeffe. “The amount of people who have given up their time. With the girls here, it’s 24-7 and I’ll never be able to repay them for this,” she says.

“A bottle of gin goes a long way,” says Harris-Byrne.

Glasnevin Cemetery, Glasnevin Necrology, Irish Medals and Kildare genealogist Anthony Carpenter were all very helpful to those searching for information on their chosen civilians, although finding a full history for every civilian wasn't possible.

“Some have no stories at all, where people just could not find information, so they have imagined what they would be like. For some of them we had no age, we had no first name or second name, we didn’t know if they were male or female, even based on their name. So a lot of people had to create a substantial piece of work based on very little information,” says Harris-Byrne.

“At the end of the day, this is an art project. A lot of the facts we get, we’re not historians, so some of it is hearsay, some of it is made up, some of it is facts but it’s not 100 per cent factual. We just want to keep the memory alive, so there’s elements of truths and then a little bit of romanticising about it as well,” says O’Keeffe.

She had to improvise some of the details of her own ceramic piece, because information about her civilian was difficult to find, but she knew his name was Charles Hatchett Hyland, he was a dentist, and he lived at 3 Percy Place.

“Charles was out for a lot of the days during the fighting, helping the wounded and bringing them in. Unfortunately, he went out to his back door and got shot by a sniper. That’s his story. I’ve made a small house. I’ve put a 3 on the door, and I just basically put a dentist’s chair and cushion in red to symbolise royalty or someone so very important, and he was. And a tooth, to quirk it up,” she says.

Poor Walter

Miriam Griffin had her two sons help her with her house, which is in memory of an eight-year-old boy called Walter Scott, who was shot in the head. After a fight for survival in Mercer’s Hospital that lasted several weeks, he was one of the last children to die. His father, a Scottish captain of a dredging boat, had brought him to

Ireland

after finding work on the north docks of the Liffey, but he had died of accidental drowning in February.

"We have built a little house to represent Walter, with a stone wall in the front to represent the East Wall, where he was shot. Because his dad was a captain of a boat and he died, we felt we'd have to remember the dad also, so the roof is supposed to be symbolic of the tarred hull of a boat. I also have, in the front window, a little candle because my two boys never go to bed without their night light, so there's a little candle and he can always come home. Poor Walter," says Griffin.

Part of Griffin’s job was to liaise with the school groups and individuals on their progress with their houses, and she feels she is not the only one to have become attached to her civilian through the project.

“A woman called Mary went and met with the great-grandson of her civilian and, in her front garden, she now has a tree from a snippet of the tree outside the house that would have been there at the time. They’ve really adopted these people into their lives and they speak about them on a daily basis, and it’s really romantic, it’s lovely. A lot of them have visited the graves and put flowers on them, when those graves mightn’t have had flowers on them for a very, very long time. It’s very emotional,” she says.

At the time we met, Harris-Byrne hadn't yet completed her house. Her civilian, Abraham Harris, was found out after curfew on Capel Street Bridge. He ran when he was told to stop and was shot. He had worked in the clothing business, although she's not sure what exactly he did. Her house was to be built on a bridge, and fabric used in order to represent his story.

Wrong place

That story of being in the wrong place at the wrong time is one of many, she says. “There was another girl who was wearing a green jumper. Her dad had told her not to go near the windows, but she was curious, and she was wearing a green jumper so they thought she was a rebel.”

RTÉ's Remembering the Rising is exhibiting all 262 houses on O'Connell Street on March 28th for one day as part of its centenary programme.

“It’s amazing. They’re going home. The 1916 Sackville Street project will be on what was Sackville Street and the people that we aim to remember will be home,” says O’Keeffe.

This is a bonus to the main exhibition, which is taking place in April at the Botanic Gardens, another place they consider perfect to show off the houses. “Every house deserves a garden, and where better to display 262 of them than in the National Botantic Gardens. The majority of them are buried in Glasnevin Cemetery, so practically next door. We couldn’t find anywhere more apt,” says Griffin.

Once the exhibitions are packed up and the houses returned to their creators, the 1916 Sackville Street team are keen to make sure the civilians won’t be forgotten once again, so they have compiled a book containing pictures of all the houses, along with details about the civilians, the artists and the thoughts behind each house.

“We just want the civilians to be remembered, that’s our main aim, and secondary to that we would like to raise some money for charity. By doing the book, hopefully we will. We want some good to come out of it. Any money we raise will go to charity, and we’re hoping for it to go to a homeless charity. For all of these houses to be able to help the homeless would be amazing,” says O’Keeffe.

The 1916 Sackville Street Art Project is on display on O'Connell Street today as part of RTÉ's Remembering the Rising. The exhibition will open at the Botanic Gardens, Glasnevin, April 8th-24th