In Artane on Dublin’s northside, from a place once scarred by unspeakable pain and destruction, there’s space now where creativity can grow.
The building that was once the Stardust nightclub, where 48 children and young people were unlawfully killed in a fire in 1981, will be reopened formally as 10 artists’ studios on Sunday.
Ray Yeates, chief arts officer with Dublin City Council which is providing the studios at reduced rents, “cannot think of a more appropriate use for the building”.
Family members of the 48, like Fidelma Lawless whose sister Sandra (18) died, and survivors like Jimmy Fitzpatrick say Sunday will be a “bittersweet but positive” occasion.
“It’s a new beginning,” says Lawless. “It’s time for other people now to fulfil their dreams here, what our loved ones never got to do.”
Since July the building, now known as Artane Artists’ Studios, has been the workplace for 14 artists, including a costume designer, a theatre and television writer, and a mural artist.
For them, given the dearth of affordable workspaces for artists in Dublin, the studios are a “lifeline” allowing them to make a living. They are acutely aware of the building’s history and say they hope they can honour it by “creating beautiful new things” here.
The Stardust disaster remains the worst — in loss of life and injury — in the history of the State. In the early hours of February 14th, 1981, 48 people, aged between 16 and 27, died in an inferno that engulfed the ballroom within eight minutes. The vast majority were drawn from the surrounding working-class areas of Kilmore, Coolock, Kilbarrack, Raheny, and also further afield — the north inner-city and Finglas. They also came from homes in Ringsend and Sandymount. Some had families in Kells, Co Meath, Belfast and Derry.
In April inquests at Dublin District Coroners Court found all 48 had been unlawfully killed. Following 90 days of evidence and having heard from 373 witnesses, the 12-person jury found for the first time the fire had been caused by an electrical fault in a hot press in the main bar. They found the polyurethane foam in the seats, the almost 3,000 carpet tiles lining the internal walls and the low height of the ceiling in the alcove had contributed to the rapid spread of the fire.
They found a lack of visibility because of black smoke, lack of knowledge of the layout of the building, the toxicity of the smoke and gases, heat of the fire, speed of the spread of the fire, failure of the emergency lighting and lack of staff preparedness impeded people’s escape. At the time of the inferno, some or all of the venue’s six emergency exits were locked or obstructed.
The inquests were held following a four-decade-long campaign, spearheaded by a handful of the 45 bereaved families, for a satisfactory investigation.
In their wake, a formal State apology was delivered in the Oireachtas by Taoiseach Simon Harris in late April. A State commemoration, led by President Michael D Higgins, in June, was followed in October by a reception for families and survivors at Áras an Uachtaráin, hosted by President Higgins.
A redress scheme, established after the inquests, has in the past week completed payments in respect of most of those killed.
In advance of Sunday, some families crossed the Stardust’s threshold for the first time. Its infamous art-deco facade, familiar to anyone who has seen photographs of the Stardust, is still intact. On stepping inside, where stairs to the first floor mentioned repeatedly in the inquests are still, one cannot but recall vivid descriptions by survivors.
Anthony Preston, aged 24 when he survived the disaster, said the young patrons were trapped “like cattle” in the foyer. “I tried to make my way up the stairs, feel my way up the stairs. You only had one intake of breath. I had to hold it until I got up those steps to get air. I just wanted to get air. On the stairs there was people giving up. They were all on the stairs, giving up. The fumes. They were dying before the fire got to you,” he told the inquests.
“It was surreal to walk in,” says Fitzpatrick. “That’s where you paid your money,” he says gesturing to where there had been a cash-office. “That’s where you put your coat in. The double doors [into the ballroom] was there. That’s where the fire extinguisher was, the phone box [from which one of the 999 calls were made on the night].
“[Former manager Eamon]Butterly was always standing on that step watching people coming in.”
“It very, very surreal that 43 years have passed and some of the building is still exactly the same. But now, it is bittersweet, because of all that happened — we got our verdicts, our apology, it feels a different place. It is different now because we know our loved ones have been taken care of.”
Louise McDermott lost three siblings, George (18) and William (22) and Marcella (16). “Sometimes I could not even look here, at this building. It was always a horrible place,” she says. “But now, this morning walking in here, they [the 48] are not here any more. Their souls aren’t here now, any more. They are gone, they have been released.”
They are happy the venue will be a place where the arts are nurtured, noting most, if not all, of those who died loved the arts. Marcella loved drawing. Robert Kelly (17) loved embroidering his jackets. All loved music and dancing.
Costume designer Sinéad Lawlor has thought deeply about the history of this place. “One of my friends was here the night of the fire. She survived it and she told me all about the night when it happened. She is pleased it is now studios for artists, but she is not ready to visit it herself. I hope we can honour the memory of what happened.”
It was odd coming through that [front] door, really quite eerie. But the atmosphere is kind of extraordinary here
The studio is “an incredible lifeline” she says. “It is incredibly challenging working as a freelance theatre worker in this country ... The bottom line is studios like this mean people like me can work ... One-quarter of my entire income this year can be attributed to being able to work here. We are brutally unresourced with infrastructure and the opportunity to work somewhere like this is incredible.”
Cara Thorpe, visual artist, describes it as “fantastic” having “space” to work. Her previous space was her kitchen table. “Things have got harder for [finding available] studio space.
“The Stardust is so delicate, so within the fabric of the community. I feel the memory of the Stardust will always be a part of this building, but it feels like it is being occupied now with love. There is a lovely feeling here now, a positive, creative new feeling.”
For writer and actor Caitríona Ní Mhurchú having a studio away from “the washing machine, the childcare” has enabled her to “be more productive more than I would at home”.
She has “really thought” about the Stardust. “I am a northsider. I was too young to go to the Stardust but it absolutely haunted your teenage years. You would be checking for chains on doors. It was something seared into your brain.
“It was odd coming through that [front] door, really quite eerie. But the atmosphere is kind of extraordinary here ... It will add depth I think. It is about creating new, beautiful things here.”
Dublin City Council plans more affordable studio spaces for artists, including 60 in the next 12 months across sites including the former Eden restaurant in Temple Bar, the Filmbase building, also in Temple Bar, 8 and 9 Merchants Quay, and a vacant site at Bridgefoot Street.
Yeates describes Xestra Asset Management, owners of Artane Place, as “highly enlightened landlords”. Its chief executive Antoine Xavier approached the council, offering the building as a space for artists. The council part-funded its refurbishment and has taken a 10-year lease on it.
Fitzpatrick describes Xavier as “a gentleman” in his sensitivity in engaging with Stardust families and survivors.
Sunday’s formal opening will take place just outside the building, cognisant that some survivors and families may feel unable to enter it. Any who wishes, however, will be invited to tour the studios.
Dublin poet Leon Dunne will perform his work More Than a Name. He met families and drew on the pen portraits of the 48 young people delivered by those who loved them at their inquests.
It includes the lines: “To others, they were simply a name read out on the news/ But to us/ They were everything/ And after many years/ Their memories live on/ With the respect and the dignity/ That they deserved all along/ And now 10 seeds have been planted/ And their art will grant a chance to heal/ As their leaves spread through communities/ That have had to deal with so much/ A touch of hope/ A place for artists to go/ For in Artane Place there’s a space now/ Where creativity can grow.”
Why did justice for Stardust victims take so long?
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