How agreeable are you?
I think very, unless something is wrong or is clearly being done incorrectly. That’s not about being disagreeable, it’s just wanting to get things right.
What is your middle name and what do you think of it?
My middle name is Padraig, and I love the extreme Irishness of Niall Padraig Sweeney. I also love my Confirmation name, my chosen other middle name, Sebastian, which definitely describes me and my life in some ways. I remember we were driving up the Dublin Mountains on a Sunday. I had to submit the name of a saint the next day at school, and I knew I didn’t want any of the normal names. There were various reasons why I chose Sebastian. One was that Brideshead Revisited was on television, so there was the character Sebastian Flyte; the other was that my older brother would wake me up late on a school night and bring me downstairs to watch alternative films, probably on Channel 4.
One of these was Derek Jarman’s Sebastiane, which, technically, is not something that somebody in school should be watching. Anyway, on that drive, he piped up, “Why don’t you take Sebastian?” I’m especially proud of the combination of the family lineage meeting the New World, when my fabulous brother made this hilarious suggestion. He thought it wasn’t going to stick, but I took it and ran with it. It’s such a brilliant clash.
Where is your favourite place in Ireland?
My sister has a house in Co Kerry, close to Rossdohan Island, which is in the shadow of Parknasilla. On the island, there’s an abandoned folly of a mansion, dating from the late 1800s. It looks like a fantasy castle, but the grounds were planted with exotic plants that have gone wild. It could be Jurassic Park, but for seals rather than dinosaurs.
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Describe yourself in three words.
Tormented, creative and loving. In all interpretations, I think.
When did you last get angry?
To be brutally frank, I get angry when people are sh*ts. That can be on a local or personal level, just between people, and then obviously all the levels up to national, political, geopolitical, the arms trade and so on. It’s very much the fundamental injustices of the world, I guess. It’s an understatement to say it’s just people being horrible to each other because it’s a lot more than that.
What have you lost that you would like to have back?
Most recently, unexpectedly, sadly, and I hope I’m not going to cry, is myself and Nigel, my husband, had to let our dog go last week. What I love about these creatures so much is that the entire communication is empathic, implied, through gesture, and there’s something in that that has taught me a lot over the years. But then, they’re not really lost; they’re still around. And my parents are still very much alive in my head, still have an attitude toward the work I’m doing. I can still hear my mum going, “You could do it that way… ”.
What is your strongest childhood memory?
Both my parents had friends in Paris, and friends who had a vineyard in Saint-Émilion, and the visits were all to do with food and politics. I clearly remember being in Madrid in 72, so Franco was still in power. I was five and I remember the police, sitting around the fountains, in their leather gear, smoking, holding rifles, leaning into the car to ask for my parents’ papers, and us kids terrified in the back. It sounds dark, but it was brilliant and had a big influence on me. What I really remember from Madrid, however, is going to see Goya and Velázquez paintings in the Prado museum, and my parents standing me in front of Goya’s Saturn Devouring His Son, saying to me, “Here’s a painting you should look at, Niall”, and then running off. Something else has just popped into my head. Way back, there used to be two male Marabou storks in Dublin Zoo, and she nicknamed them Gilbert and George. For my mum to introduce Gilbert and George as a concept of an artistic couple into the general family chat was incredible. For her, it was the normal thing to do, but we were like, what the hell?
Where do you come in your family’s birth order and has this defined you?
I’m the youngest of four and it absolutely has defined me. My three siblings, my brother and two sisters, were born quite close together, in the north of England, in Leicester. In 1965, we moved to Dublin, and I was the Irish surprise that came along in 67. So timing, geography, my parents’ new life in Ireland and what they did within that new life, defined my position, and completely moulded who and what I am.
What do you expect to happen when you die?
I’m a big fan of Laurie Anderson, and she has this phrase that is maybe a quote from someone else, or perhaps it’s because she has such a Buddhist outlook, but it’s that the purpose of death is the release of love. For me, that has always made sense. It’s the release of that energy, that’s what grief is.
When were you happiest?
Definitely hanging out with and being with my husband, and going on road trips, especially. Nigel plays the most excellent music in the car. And to go back to my mother, she used to say to me, do good work, but also to put as much emphasis on doing good as doing work. That has always been a baseline. Calling it a vocation is wrong, but she crystallised an approach. When I’m conscious that I’m hitting those moments, I’m happy.
Which actor would play you in a biopic about your life?
Mr Ben, the cartoon children’s book character. I’m picking a cartoon character instead of an actor because Mr Ben would definitely be an influence on me. He is a hard-core Situationist flâneur, you know, and he’s all about the streets, his investment in the moment. He’s also a smart dresser. The bowler hat…
What is your biggest career/personal regret?
Regrets are a torment, aren’t they? I don’t think I’ve done anything so severe to people other than being a bit of an arsehole from time to time. I think that’s fortunate, because I wouldn’t like such heavy baggage.
Have you any psychological quirks?
I’m a very empathic person. We’re a big hugger family, and having so many European friends, I just grew up that way. I cry easily. I will cry at cartoons. I’m easily set off. I don’t know if that’s a quirk, but I think it’s a positive one. I work quite emotionally, through the heart, and not just with cold, intellectual rigour. Sometimes, the work is trying to get rid of the intellect to allow the emotion to come through.
AS IF, the new interdisciplinary exhibition by Eamonn Doyle, Niall Sweeney and David Donohoe runs until April 5th at the International Centre for the Image, Dublin https://image.museum/
In conversation with Tony Clayton-Lea
