Orla Barry possesses a wealth of wool and felting knowledge, a technique involving the pressing of the fleece into fibres suitable for knitwear. Recently, the artist and farmer from Waterford has been utilizing Hebridean wool, after an attempt at employing Lleyn wool in 2011 proved too strenuous. In an effort to simplify the process, she partnered with a Dutch felter who suggested combining the Lleyn with Bergschaf, a breed native to the Austrian-Italian border. Hence, what Orla had envisaged as a simple, self-directed venture swiftly morphed into a more intricate production.
Barry’s career spans various disciplines in the art world. She was a resident of Brussels for 16 years where she nurtured her creative flair. Her dynamic repertoire, comprising written works, performances, and video and sound installations, has filled the hallowed halls of the Irish Museum of Modern Art, Tate Modern in London, Mu. Zee in Belgium, in addition to the erstwhile Museu Coleção Berardo in Lisbon. Aside from these remarkable achievements, she also bagged the prestigious Belgian Art Prize, something her previous life didn’t suggest.
Raised on a Wexford tillage farm, she yearned for liberation from farm life. Her journey took her to Dublin, followed by Belfast, and eventually to Holland and Belgium. Her childhood environment deeply influenced her work, even as she sought to distance herself from it. Her return to her homeland in 2009 marked a turning point. Faced with a need for income to support her partner and adopted children, she built a home on her father’s farm. Inspired by her uncle’s successful sheep farming, Orla transitioned from nothing to owning 30 pedigree sheep outright. With assistance from local farmers, friends, her uncle and godfather, she embarked on her agrarian schooling. Despite her urban experiences, she discovered that sheep farming ultimately held an unexpected place in her life.
The symbolism of sheep has a deep-rooted presence in visual arts. The lamb has functioned as an iconography for Christ since the inception of Christian artwork. Artists like Jean-François Millet, a prominent French painter of the 19th century, enhanced the warmth and nostalgia of pastoral scenes featuring flocks of sheep. On the other hand, Picasso added a modern edge to sheep imagery with a touch of Cubism in his 1965 piece, Spring. Damien Hirst intensified the sheep’s artistic role by encasing one in formaldehyde in his piece Away from the Flock. Recently, the animal has been prominently featured in international cinema successes, such as Rams and Woman at War.
In Ireland, sheep are garnering increased interest. The bestselling springtime memoir Twelve Sheep: Life Lessons from the Lambing Season by John Connell attests to this.
Ireland’s Barry, drawing on her own experiences of sheep farming, combines autobiography, fiction and environmentalism to craft unique publications and performances that have an essential element of sheep in the narrative. The nature of her role has varied over the years, from farmer to shepherdess, and finally settling on shepherd – a term she feels is more gender-neutral, aligning with her own specialisation in sheep farming.
Famed film editor and director Cara Holmes, known for her superior documentaries such as The Father of the Cyborgs and Piano Dreams, connected with Barry via their mutual acquaintance, Liz Burns who works at Waterford County Council’s arts department. Holmes had contemplated making a documentary focusing on the role of women in farming and its history in Ireland, and simultaneously exploring the interplay between feminism and agriculture. This idea was refined distinctly when she came across Orla Barry.
Presenting Notes from Sheepland; an innovative blend of farming diary, performance art and a showcase of rural existence. The creative fusion is the brainchild of farmer-artist and first-time director, Holmes, visually interpreting Barry’s Sheepland Diary captured on her iPhone, and her 2019 book, Shaved Rapunzel, Scheherazade & the Shearling Ram from Arcady.
Holmes, steeped in the classic rural lifestyle, resides amidst the serene beauty of the sea and a lake. An advocate for preserving the vitality of the open spaces, Holmes spent her daylight hours in and out of the farm shed. From this endeavour, she discovered the reasons that stoke Barry’s passion for her rural existence.
Notes from Sheepland is a rich multifaceted piece. It features a local male choir serenading on Barry’s farm with the melody of Rise Up, Shepherd, and Follow. Amidst the backdrop of mischievous chickens and sheepdogs, Barry indulges in deep thoughts about her practice, its relationship with the landscape, and her experience with dyslexia. Then, enters the all-star team of pedigree sheep.
Initially, Barry embarked on breeding pedigree sheep without realising the intricacies involved. Thinking it’s just a farm chore, Barry eventually realised she was creating an artistic masterpiece. To Barry, coupling specific animals akin to creating artwork. She chooses to breed from females in the Lleyn breed – an environmentally friendly sheep with plenty of milk production, requiring minimal input and known for easy lambing. The Beltex breed, in contrast, has been bred for its meat content, muscular physique, and are often difficult to lamb. For Barry, sheep, with their national historical significance, have become omnipresent in her life – a splendid testament to their place in the countryside.
The movie begins focusing on Barry’s eye, an emblematic link to her fate. Barry’s first recruit to her lineage herd was Elsey, quickly followed by Gillian, Big Daddy, Little Daddy, the Ugly Mutt, the Log, Michelle, Patsy, Iris, Ivy and other ensemble members. Interestingly, Barry’s deep empathy as an artist coexists with the grim realities of the slaughterhouse.
“Some people query how I feel when the animals are taken for slaughter,” she admits. “I’m realistically unsentimental about it, because it means fewer chores for me. But what’s challenging is bidding farewell to the mother sheep – the ewes – who have shared a decade of my life with me.”
She also struggles with the wider issues of the slaughter industry, not just individual animal deaths. She has visited the works, as farmers prefer to call it, and witnessed all the packaging operations before the meat is shipped to a supermarket chain in Belgium.
“This industry is formidable. It’s heartbreaking to see how farmers struggle to get by,” she conveys, adding that the latter makes her more upset than the act of slaughtering an animal.
In the course of the documentary Notes from Sheepland, Barry reflects on her original purchases and confesses that had she foreseen the future, she probably would not have held onto them. Though sheep are amazing, they’re not a profitable venture. The sour truth is, despite turning to sheep farming for stability and to subsidise her art, it hasn’t been any less financially challenging.
“We’ve previewed the film across the country,” adds director Holmes. “Recently we screened in Leitrim and Estonia where Estonian farmers eagerly raised questions. We wanted to draw these parallels. Their reactions have underscored a universal narrative among small-scale farmers and the issues they confront.”
After suffering an injury and finding herself with a surplus of half-a-ton of unsold wool – the expense to send it to a purchaser outweighs the manufacturing cost, the size of Barry’s sheep herd has diminished. She still works as a shepherd and pursues her passion for creating art inspired by her sheep. Her forthcoming art series, Shaved Rapunzel et le Petit Berger Punk (as named in French) is set to release soon.
Barry voices her love for her profession: “The hands-on involvement with raising sheep is of immense significance to me.” She admits to shrinking the size of her herd, but is too captivated by the world of sheep to let go of them entirely.
Her exhibition, Notes from Sheepland, will commence on Friday, the 26th of July.