Whats it about?

Yearning to Breathe…. Is taken from a poem by Emma Lazarus, the poem that is inscribed on the base of the Statue of Liberty.  It is a line that I return to again and again as I feel it expresses so much about the migration of people across the world, seeking to breathe free.  It also expresses so much about human beings yearning desire for freedom in more general terms; freedom from abuse, persecution, racism, sexism, homophobia, bullying…. all of the difficulties we face in our lives – experiences/threads that link us to each other.

I am an Irish immigrant in Britain, I came with my family in the mid 1980's at a time when anti Irish racism was rampant, even at the age of 6 I was singled out for bullying.  It was contradictory for me, because leaving Ireland meant my escape from abuse; yet here I was surrounded by people who hated me.  As a child I desparately wanted to fit in, abandon all my Irish connections, become someone new, someone who everyone loved, someone strong, someone happy; I lost myself for a while then I found that I was all of those things and more, a fighter for freedom and equality, a proud Irish woman, lesbian and activist.

This blog is to document my journey exploring these issues through art for my final major project.  I will be exploring these issues in relation to my self, my body, my surroundings.  I will think about questions of sexism, the bonds of expectation and what a woman ‘should’ be or ‘should’ do. 

I aim to produce a film which seeks to encapsulate the phrase ‘yearning to breathe free’, one that invokes an emotional connection and thoughts on what freedom is, what it feels like; Im open to been taken in different directions and changing my final plan, this blog will document that journey.

The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Emma Lazarus, 1883