The Professionals is a series of articles in which three people from one field share their views of Ireland today. Keep an eye out for other articles: the psychologists, the teachers, the tech workers.
The panel
- Rebecca O’Flanagan, TV and film producer, director of Treasure Entertainment
- Martin Beanz Warde, performer, comedian, writer and television presenter
- Dave Tynan, author, film-maker and director
Tell me about the work you do and what is most rewarding or challenging about it?
Dave: I make films (Dublin Oldschool , Heartbreak) and I write. My debut short-story collection, We Used to Dance Here, was published by Granta earlier this year. What I find most rewarding about the creative working life are the moments of discovery. A twist or turn in a story that you know is right ... the right knock to a sentence. The feeling that you’ve crystallised something and it feels fresh to you.
And in film, when you get surprised between action and cut, like if you’ve honoured the work or the scene up to that point and then it takes flight. The way an actor might deliver a line or change their face and that transmits an emotion to you. In terms of challenges, this is very predictable but it’s the constant lack of financial security. I know that’s probably not a shock. It’s just so hard to make plans. That was grand in my 20s or even early 30s, but I’m married now and you’re trying to support other people as well as yourself. You don’t do any of these jobs well if you’re stressed about money.
Martin: I always find it sounds so egocentric when I am talking about what I do. I write and perform. I’m a comedian, photographer, journalist. I mean, I’m only one step away from setting up an OnlyFans account. I have a TV show out at the moment on RTÉ, The End of the World With Beanz. My work is always story-focused, that’s what links everything I do.
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When I think about what is rewarding, I think of how I am incredibly privileged. I’m a Traveller, one of two people in my whole community who has ever had the opportunity to do anything with broadcasting. I love talking to people and dragging stories out of them. I get to do that a lot on this series. It’s incredibly rewarding.
Writing, for me, has always been a reward in itself ... but it’s very difficult to jump into a new world of fantasy when you’re living in difficult realities. Every creative I know is struggling to get work. You’re looking to book work a year in advance and there’s no safety net. The most rewarding part is when you finish work: like when I performed my debut play, The Dead House, two years ago. It was so gratifying to get a standing ovation and a four-star review in The Irish Times. And being the first queer actor from my community to write something like that is so validating. The rewards definitely outweigh the difficult times. I think that’s why we keep at it.
Rebecca: Some of the film projects we’ve produced include Papi Chulo, Metal Heart and Handsome Devil. In terms of television, we’ve produced Smother, Finding Joy and Trial of the Century. We’re about to deliver Power Ballad, a film by John Carney. I would say the biggest reward from working in the creative sphere is around a sense of purpose.
My whole life, I’ve been in thrall to the importance of storytelling and its power to affect change. Growing up, I didn’t have a sense of how you made that a career. Doing it every day is something that still kind of, 20 years later, gives me such deep pleasure and a sense of purpose.
The other thing is the relationships. Some of the deepest and most bountiful friendships I have in my life have come from the creative people I’ve been involved with. Working in this industry is stressful because of money and resources, but it’s also a way that you can communicate, soul to soul. Every now and again, you have that moment of connection that can be beautiful.
And also, there’s a freedom that comes with being your own boss, you can structure your life in a way that suits. There’s also a freedom that comes with the challenge of insecurity, of never quite knowing where the next job is coming from.
How has your profession changed in recent years and what forces have driven those changes?
Rebecca: In terms of film and television, it’s been completely transformed over the last 10 and 20 years. When I started, it was mostly privately educated, middle-class men who were making films. Also filmmaking, if it’s expensive now, it was so much more expensive back then. Technological advancements have transformed this.
I also think there has been a really welcome focus on representation. In the past, the voices that were coming out were really homogeneous. While it is much better now, I sometimes feel like the industry is ticking boxes, rather than ensuring that those voices are amplified. Those voices need to be supported in an even broader way.
Changes in television have been really interesting. Years ago, you would have mostly had commissions from the different broadcasters. The television landscape has now become a lot more like independent filmmaking, where you need multiparty finance to get everything made. This is how it is with broadcasters both here and around the world. They have more interest in diverse voices, but they still have a very commercial head on them, so they have to deliver in a certain way.
Martin: Social justice and social capital are much more important in the creative industries now. I was on a panel recently, talking to other marginalised artists, and the point was made that people are asking more questions in-house, in television or radio, about whether they are doing enough to be diverse. And when it comes to gender, the demographics are definitely different. The days of the sausage fest are over.
There’s been a lot of change for good. In 2019, when I was doing my stand-up comedy, over 50 venues I tried to book refused me even though I had the fans and the tickets to be sold. Those attitudes have changed.
I think some of the positive changes have come from social media. Commissioners or broadcasters can be called out now by the average person. In the past, if you had an issue you’d send a letter or an email and it would die there. But when people started getting called out publicly, it really changed the dynamic – and people really started to ask questions.
I didn’t go through the usual route to become a television presenter or even a stand-up comedian. Everything I have is because I was noticed on social media. That’s why I am interested in social capital, because once you start to build a social capital, it doesn’t just stay with you; you’re holding it for the next generation.
The brightest talent in the country hasn’t even left school yet. It’s the job of people like me to make sure the social capital I build is passed on to the next generation, so they know that they can do it. Sometimes the hardest door to knock on is the door you don’t even know exists.
Dave: In terms of changes, the Basic Income for Artists scheme has been incredible. I’ve been a recipient for the last three years. It’s no exaggeration to say it allowed me to stay in the game. It’s not 100 grand a year or anything like that, it’s basically €16,000 a year, but it meant that when I was in between projects I didn’t have to sign on the dole and the trust and faith it gave you was incredible. There are projects that nobody has seen yet that it allowed me to work on. I know that’s true of a bunch of other people as well. People were quiet about it – it was at least a year before I found out some really good friends were on it, which is mad.
The scheme is being expanded and I’m delighted because I know the relief it’s going to give people. Without it, the losses are immeasurable. We will never know what we are missing, what stories don’t get told.
What opportunities and risks do you see ahead for your field over the next decade in Ireland?
Martin: As a gay Traveller, I know the Arts Council are very proactive about diversifying the voices and I think it’s really reverberating throughout the arts community itself.
The risks? I suppose a more talented, better looking, trimmer, gay Traveller coming on to the scene would worry me. Seriously though, I suppose there is always the risk that people just don’t like my work. It’s a fickle world and it’s so competitive; if you don’t continuously hone and improve your own skills, you will be left behind.
Dave: As an artist, you live in two time zones. When you’re writing something, you’re visualising it, maybe years before it happens, or maybe it doesn’t happen. I’m trying to work probably more internationally or with more people. I think I had a very real kind of cultural nationalism about the work in the past, and particularly in film. It’s well acknowledged that the Irish are the All Blacks of literature and I want us to get up there in film too.
Rebecca: Internationally, there’s an openness and a receptivity to Irish voices at the moment. They are travelling around the world. I think that’s a huge opportunity. In terms of production, the difficulty really has become less about getting films made. It’s been about getting them seen.
I think what we have to really ensure is that the financial support is there. But also, it’s a crafty, expensive business, so you just don’t want to set people up to fail. You have to really ensure that the training is there, the education [is there] and that the films are not only being made, but they’re being seen.
What do people most often misunderstand about your work or your industry?
Dave: I’m not a performer like Martin, but a big misperception is that if you have a job that is even tangentially public-facing, then the remuneration for that is commensurate with it. It’s just not true. Somebody sees your film on Netflix and they think that’s a mortgage. It’s not a mortgage.
I also hate when people say what you do is a vocation. It’s a really damaging thing to say. For me, it’s the first step to not paying them properly or not paying them at all. It’s like the gateway drug to not paying somebody. I’d like to raise awareness of “vocation” being a problematic word.
Martin: I agree with Dave on this. If your mug is on a screen everyone thinks you’re loaded, that you’re on the pig’s back when in actual fact, sometimes I just feel like the pig. A lot of people think everyone in the creative world wants to be famous. I don’t.
I love what I do. I want to do the work. I think that some of the stuff I do is quite important work, especially meeting and talking to people about issues. And I include people who I totally disagree with in this. But I don’t do it because I want to be famous.
Rebecca: Most people, if you say you’re a producer, they don’t really have a sense of what that is. If you push people, they’ll say it’s something to do with raising money and making deals. And often, I think there’s a sense that it’s also about stealing people’s creative souls. But as far as I’m concerned, it has always been about finding voices you can facilitate.
None of us here have gone into these careers because we thought it was an easy way to make money. It’s absolutely not. It’s a really difficult industry. And there’s a lot of other places where you could spend 20 years working and be financially way better off than you are now.
I also think people have a narrow perception of producer. It’s a hugely creative role where you have to be able to tune into the creative visions of other people. There has to be that trust there.
When you think about the future – for yourself, your career and for Ireland – are you optimistic? Why or why not?
Dave: I feel I am cursed with optimism, if that makes sense. It’s that [Antonio] Gramsci quote – he called it “pessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will”. I think it’s that. Every day, I know more. If you stay a fan, even with how impossible it all is, or how impossible it feels, that’s a great place to be.
There are brilliant movies being made all the time. The cinemas are full of them. And there’s so much incredible music out there, young musicians, young rappers, which is so energising. I hope to feel that energy, not just in music, but across the board in the arts in this country. That’s the hope and I’m pretty confident about that.
Martin: Even in my most anxious moments, I force myself to be optimistic so that I can create. Sometimes it’s difficult to do that if you’re worried about finances, or if the funding doesn’t come in, but you’ll always find another way to be creative. I don’t allow myself to wallow in the worry part. In the last few years, I’ve started to focus on the moment and let the future sort itself out.
You have to force yourself to be hopeful, even in the times when it seems like you can’t. I’m also optimistic about the arts community, especially the new generation of actors and writers, the new voices, who are bringing contemporary Ireland into their stories. They’re no longer just kind of redoing old work. So I’m very optimistic.
Rebecca: I am optimistic because I’ve come to believe, at this point in my life, that optimism is a form of political, social and cultural activism. As soon as you give up on optimism, it’s so easy to get apathetic and disillusioned, and then it’s impossible to still be effective in this industry. I think what we all feel is the potential to affect change through our creative lives, so optimism is the thing we have to cling to by our fingernails.
