Abandoned Houses in Ireland

By John Wesson

Whilst travelling the roads and narrow lanes of County Kerry, Ireland, I am constantly seeking out new locations and opportunities for taking photographs. The cliché of finding beauty in the seemingly mundane certainly applies. Kerry's land and seascapes are so endlessly giving in their opportunities for intriguing images, that it can be difficult to select one opportunity over the next. I became interested in the many abandoned houses along the way, which are a common sight in certain parts of rural Ireland. Left empty for a variety of reasons, usually the former inhabitants have moved into a newer, more modern home nearby. It can also be the result of indecision between sons and daughters regarding what to do with the family home once the parents have passed away. Emigration is of course a big reason, with many standing empty for decades now.

One property in particular I snapped was an old thatched cottage about to collapse in on itself, I titled it: ‘For sale…apply within’. Wherever possible I try to include a little humour in my work, that title certainly worked, as people began to imagine living in such a place. Although it was generally well-received, I was surprised by the opposite reaction it received from some; it certainly divided opinion. It is not uncommon for the older Irish to frown and look away, as it reminds them of hard times from long ago…there is nothing of the romantic there for them. Visitors, tourists and the young often like this representation of the ‘old Ireland’; a ‘chocolate box’ view of how they imagined things had been in times gone by. Tourists, Americans young and old in particular, engage positively with this type of image. As well as my land and seascapes, this subject started me on an unexpected quest.

More ‘ancient house’ pictures followed. Scenes of decay and abandonment became more and more interesting to me. I would ask friends and acquaintances if they knew of any places I could photograph and as a result I have been provided with some great leads. A good friend was very supportive of my work. ‘John’, he said ‘decay will eventually destroy them or another building boom certainly will; you are recording these scenes for posterity’. The recent winter storms of 2014 certainly took their toll. Once the roof is compromised, the subsequent deterioration is rapid. In my short twenty-seven year spell in the county of Kerry, I know many properties that have quickly transformed from a slightly neglected state to a four walled shell.

Fifty years ago, interior walls in rural Ireland were painted in bold bright colours. It has been said that the Irish choose their colours like emperors, not like today’s fashion of Farrow & Ball catalogue colours in muted shades of puce. Fifty years on, the colours may have faded somewhat but coupled with rising damp and leaking roofs, plaster and woodwork become very vibrant indeed, as algae, mould, fungi and even lichens gradually take hold. The term ‘going back to the soil’ springs to mind.

At the same time as exploring these buildings, a recurring theme caught my eye – the religious icons, the ‘sacred hearts’: Jesus Christ, Mother Mary, The Virgin Mary, Saint Therese and of course the incumbent Pope of the time. Every abandoned house possessed them, almost without exception. Having been brought up as a Catholic, they struck a chord with me. I remember my Irish grandmother’s house in south London, with its holy water dispensers in the doorways (by the light switch!) and the saints on every wall. Most memorable of all was her veneration of them. A simple country girl, the church was her life, as it would have been for the former inhabitants of these old dwellings. Today these icons exist in a ragged state, occasionally with peeling wallpaper adorning them like a rotting veil. Some are barely hanging together in one piece, propped up on a fire-place or broken on the floor, alongside peeling paint and woodworm, looking out at us from across the years; from another time. It was considered an innocent time, except we now know differently. These sacred hearts and how many broken hearts? Scandals within the clergy and cover-ups have rocked the church in Ireland, these pictures now seem like a metaphor for the sad state it is in. If I thought the ‘cabin’ picture divided opinion, these icons certainly do; idealised and yet to some grotesque in their decay, and interesting and thought provoking to others. I show them to people always with a little trepidation.

When inside one of these houses, the unwritten golden rule is touch nothing, move nothing, and respect their current condition. Run-down, decrepit, ramshackle they may be, but remember that to someone they were more than a house, they were a home and no doubt a very happy, loving home. Tread carefully. This might seem strange in a property where sheep may be taking shelter, but it is the only acceptable approach. Most are very poorly lit, often curtains are drawn shut and windows boarded up, so photography is a real challenge.

The cabin picture that started my quest in 2009 has now lost its roof, and I recently learnt something I personally thought remarkable about it. A retired builder friend could remember an old lady living in it, and smoke coming out of the door way. There was no chimney! Smoke would also permeate up and out through the thatch in the roof, from a simple hearth set out on the floor. Although this was common at one time many years ago, it is extraordinary to think that in living memory we had here people living in conditions that our Neolithic ancestors would have been familiar with 5,000 years before.

Photographers search for images that will capture and stimulate the imagination, and promote a reaction from the viewer. These old icons undoubtedly do that. Who would have thought that such interest could be found in these overlooked, overgrown old places? How much longer we have left to record them is uncertain.