Please Proceed as Normal / Laura Fitzgerald

Laura Fitzgerald’s solo exhibition of newly commissioned work took place at The Courthouse Gallery and at Pot Duggan’s pub in Ennistymon, Co Clare in October / November 2019.

Through video, text and drawing, her work focuses on the rapid changes she and others are experiencing in the modern world. She frames these experiences from the viewpoint of a stone.

Fitzgerald’s exhibition and installation were accompanied by a new text by the artist reproduced below.


Please proceed as normal.

Ok, let’s try this one more time, Laura Fitzgerald’s work is about,

   Place a bid on the final field and hold your breath as you enter your 1:1.  Ye’r man has become fossilised down in the local pub. “No, that’s a woman.” She’s been there for 24 years, cemented to the same spot. Handy though, because you can hoover around her and the meter reading is relatively low.

   Please proceed as normal. Turn off the light, don’t be wasting electricity.  Everything is ok. If you are feeling disappointed, please report it to the HR Department. They’ve changed offices again, due to flooding  – head on up the garden path, they have a snazzy new set up there.  Any plans for the weekend? In the co-working space, we are eating, come join us.

Urgent notice to all staff: day dreaming is leading to lower efficiency.

Oh that?  Yeah well they got in some  American company to train in staff members.  After facebook died, it became really popular, day-dreaming was all the rave. People daydreamed into all sorts of mad situations, a colleague of mine was on universal basic income for a whole year!

   It’s easier in the city no? Ah, it’s business as usual. The machines at the counter are learning Irish. Some of them are studying part-time; psychology, counselling, art therapy. One machine is learning Fine Art. Most of them want to visit the West and are saving up for a holiday in September.  The weather is nicer then.  They are buying fitness equipment from Lidl. Getting in shape. Tightening up.

  It’s rumoured that there are business men living on the M4, the M6 and the M8. They got stranded there, after the juice dried up in their A series. They are living in an enclave near Barack Obama Plaza, foraging for wild berries, after the doughnuts ran out. They had been having a bit of a meltdown anyway,  a bite sized burnout, a re-organisation of thought. They are unsubscribing from magazines, they are cancelling the gym. They are burning copies of “Homo Deus” found lying on the back seats.  It might be an act of rebellion or it could be to keep warm.  The wives are waiting, they are watering plants, purchasing the last flights out to middle temperature climes. One per household, the purchase of the plants off-setting our carbon emissions.

The hot monk is giving good advice. Do not not take your time. The petrol stations are closing down and all of the stones are outstanding. In their fields, they are noticing all the goings on. “Slow down”, they whisper.  The stones always owned this place anyhow. Currently, we are drawing up excel spreadsheets, calculating how much time potential children have, to live on this planet.

We jumped up and grabbed the church before it blew away entirely during the bad weather. Just in time to get married. It was heavy, 2000 years of sandstone. We are visiting graveyards of fitted kitchens, picking out our headstones. Marble counter tops, minimalist handles, Belfast basins… We are dead in our houses already.  A moment of respect please for the mad people. We have every good reason to go insane.