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Back to the Alma Mater

[by Róisín Curé in Galway] We're not big on putting people on a pedestal in Ireland. But every now and then we like to honour someone for their achievements: one way we do this is to confer them with an honorary doctorate from one of our universities.

In the National University of Ireland in Galway, my alma mater, a graduand (the person receiving the honour) will don a red gown combined with another colour to denote their discipline. Purple for letters, light blue for science etc., with a broad-brimmed black velvet hat with a tassel in the colour of their gown. They will then join a long line of similarly-robed past graduates and file through the grounds of the university, under ancient trees, past ivy-clad facades, a procession popping with colour.

An urban sketcher's dream.

And someone wanted to pay me to sketch it.

My alma mater is not really that old, having opened its doors in 1845. I was lucky enough to have done my degrees in the Quad, which you see in the sketch. But I left the world of science behind me, first to have children, then because the pull of art could not be ignored.

One afternoon I got a call from Eilís, who works in the university. She told me that four people, giants in their respective fields, were to be conferred with honorary degrees in two days' time.
"We were looking for an illustrator to record the day in sketches," she said, "and we were getting nowhere. Then my colleague Fionnuala was in the hospital, and she went through the wrong door - and there were your portraits of the hospital workers...so we got in touch with you."
That's how I get work, folks. By chance.

The idea was to present a portrait of each of the graduands to them at the gala dinner. I had beautiful paper with me and quickly got stage fright. What if I messed up the sketches? What if I messed up one person's sketches, and they were the only one not to get a gift? What if I looked like a chancer?

So I drew in my trusty sketchbook and transferred the sketches onto the beautiful expensive paper with a light box after the event was over. I haven't shown those here, even though they are almost identical to the sketches I made on the spot.
I got busy, starting with Joe O'Shaughnessy, one of the photographers, who works for the Irish Times, together with some illustrious people in robes. Joe is the one with the big camera. Of the others, only the guys in red were being conferred - the others were illustrious personages of the university.

I sketched and sketched.
"Watch out for the robes!" said a member of staff, as my paintbox was balanced precariously between a bunch of scrolls and a heavy crystal jug of lemony water. She would have been even more concerned if she had realised that lots of colours don't wash out.
Luckily for me, the photographers made their subjects pose for photos over many minutes. I sketched behind the guys with the cameras.
"Talk casually amongst yourselves," said a photographer.
They did. They discussed art, the paintings on the wall and the work of Jack B. Yeats, who did the same sort of thing that I do - drawings of everyday Irish life and the landscape in watercolour. They didn't seem to notice the sketcher in front of them, who, unlike Jack B. Yeats, was alive.

That changed when we went outside, and a second photographer, Aengus, instructed the graduands to come in for a closer look. Here's the photo he took, in the Galway Advertiser, one of our local newspapers.

Joe filmed me over my shoulder as I sketched. My face was flushed a deep red but I put vanity aside, or pretended to. There was nothing I could do about it anyway.

Here's the video that Joe shot.

Here are three of the graduands: Fintan O'Toole, John McNamara and Kristina Johnson.

Here is Kristina Johnson with her presenter, Colin Browne, who used to teach me geophysics back in the day. He was a pretty amazing teacher, calm and patient, but he's gone up in the world.

Here are Prof. Jane Grimson and Fintan.

Finatn and Jane again, and a few fake scrolls (they are just for the photos).

After the chit-chat in the state rooms (if that's what they are called) the graduands joined a procession of other colourfully-robed graduates. I brought up the rear, struggling a bit to keep up, like the little boy on crutches in the Pied Piper of Hamelin. The procession of people filed into a vast auditorium, the doors shutting behind them, just as in the story. Michelle, the lady who had commissioned me, came to the rescue.

"Just go on up to the front," she said. "Don't feel shy. Do what you have to do."

Having convinced Security that I was there on official business, I walked up to the front, trying not to be conscious of the reverent hush and the beautifully-dressed crowds that filled the rows to either side of the central aisle. My parents were always late for Mass on Sundays so I am very used to walking to the front of a packed, silent room with people in ceremonial robes at the top, but I still bristle with self-consciousness. A bit.

I had the perfect vantage point. And my subjects didn't move a muscle. Bliss. From left to right: Prof. Jane Grimson, Kristina Johnson, John McNamara and Fintan O'Toole. Through each graduand's presenter, who gave a speech about their achievements, I learned a bit about the graduands. Suffice to say that one feels rather inadequate next to them, and I was glad I didn't know about their amazing careers when I was sketching at the beginning of the day, or I might not have felt so free. I did try to write down their bios here but I couldn't break it down - it was impossible to write a concise précis of each.

On my way out of the university, I passed a security guard in a fluorescent jacket who had shown me where to park when I arrived. He was one of those calm, older men who has the whole gig under control without the need for tough-guy appearances. I showed him my sketches.
"An artist, eh? Sure you could frame a fella quick as that," he said.

Solemn occasion it may have been, but you just can't fight the Galway vibe.

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