Collection: "Red Iron Bridge"

"Red Iron Bridge" limited edition mounted & hanging b&w prints

exhibited Ireland & Poland 1998 – 2003

In 1995 I was stabbed by a stranger at the Red Iron Bridge. I had been on the bridge in the evening enjoying the golden light as the sun got low. I had recently returned from my first trip to Australia and I was writing to the boyfriend I’d left behind. It was 26^th June and a beautiful calm evening.

As I packed up to go home I noticed a person ahead of me on the section of tracks leading back towards the road. The centre span had been removed from the bridge and so the only option was to go back along the tracks. Being sensible I left a bit of space between us and made my way off the bridge. I needed to look down at the tracks so as not to trip but was relaxed and happy making my way. Someone was approaching; a teenage boy… I looked up as we were to pass each other and my first thought as he lunged towards me was that he had himself tripped… then that he was trying to kiss me, ugh! I didn’t even realise he had tried to stab me in the stomach until much later in hospital…

He stabbed me in the back and tried to get me on the ground; however my instincts kicked in and I screamed as loudly as I could. I didn’t know if I would ever get to utter another sound and I wanted to make myself heard for all eternity, so I screamed really loudly. He froze… I pulled myself upright… grabbed his knife… threw it away in the bushes as I was terrified the youth would use it again on me… I grabbed hold of his arm and started to interrogate him… did he do this often… had he ever attacked anyone else… was he on drugs… where did he live? He answered dully… he didn’t believe in drugs… he was told to do it… his cousins lived just down the road…! My heart sank as I thought of possible accomplices but I had to get back to the road somehow, so I frog-marched him ahead of me, adrenalin pumping… and then, the person I had seen earlier started walking back towards us because of course he had heard the commotion.

He had a hunting rifle and I thought I was done for… I thought he was another attacker and he blocked my exit to the road… and I had thrown away the knife! I started to question him asking did he know the youth etc. He didn’t believe at first that I had been stabbed until I pulled up my top and showed him my bleeding back. I had to convince him to help me bring the youth to the Garda station – I could hardly drive while holding him.

And so I effectively arrested him myself and now my teenage son thinks I’m a badass which is very gratifying. My reality was grimmer though… I was in shock and only released from hospital in the wee hours. Incidentally I actually only realised that he had slashed my stomach on examination in the hospital emergency room.

I had just stared teaching a summer photography course so I got up next morning and drove to Clonmel where I went through the course without letting on anything was wrong. Only the Principal knew and she supported my need for normality.

I was traumatised even more by the reportage of my “heroic citizen’s arrest” which is how my grandmother found out about my attack. A few months later his parents stood in court to say that “he was a lovely boy”…thankfully I got to speak and so the Judge sent him to juvenile detention.

I was still traumatised however and became very angry and turned from those who loved me.

The following year I travelled to Australia with the Explorations exhibition.  While there I travelled on my taking photographs as it was planned before the attack and I simply refused to let the little shit rob me of my dreams.

2 years later I was still trying to come to terms with survivors guilt and all the nasty feelings welling up in me and I knew I had to do something. So I set myself the project of photographing the Red Iron Bridge in an effort to reclaim it.

I exhibited the series in Clonmel, my safe place, far enough away that not many people knew me. Even though speaking in public terrified me I spoke in public for the first time about what had happened. And a wonderful thing happened… the Chief Superintendent was at the opening, and having heard my speech and he mentioned Victim Support. The Gardaí were in the process of helping set up a Waterford network and so I was a founding member for over 6 years.  

I am a survivor and eventually I thrived.

And as for the unfortunate Australian boyfriend… I was so traumatised that I simply wrote on the bottom of the letter: PS I was stabbed... Needless to say things were strained and ultimately the stabbing killed the remnants of that relationship .

I did gain something though and by creating this exhibition series based on this beautiful old structure I reclaimed it for myself and allowed myself to heal.

                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This exhibition is a darkly-powerful study of the disused iron railway known colloquially as The Red Iron Bridge. These exhibits bear witness to an already accomplished practitioner of the visual arts. But technique is only part of the equation. It is the melding of outer technical expertise with the struggling spirit within that creates great and abiding works of visual art. But above all, these images have a sense of energy that transcends the logic of sum-totals.” Edward Power, the Nationalist