How agreeable are you?
I don’t work on my own, I work in a room full of people, so you’re always faced with questions about am I going to sacrifice my relationships with the people I’m working with over what I want? Or am I willing to compromise and let the outcome slip a little bit? I’ve always found it more important to be in a room that feels friendly, healthy and agreeable, as opposed to being in a room that feels people are being terrorised because the person who’s allegedly in charge is just chasing down this vision in their head.
What is your middle name and what do you think of it?
My middle name is Francis. I like my middle name, although I was less sure of it when I was younger, so I wouldn’t tell everyone what my middle name was. I grew up in Clontarf in Dublin, which is fairly affluent now, but back in the 1970s, there was a certain edge to some of the borderlands that pushed up against Killester, Raheny or even further north.
Where is your favourite place in Ireland?
My favourite place in Ireland is Kilmacannon, Co Longford. My father was from there, and when he died, I inherited a little three-bedroom cottage on 16 acres, a classic example of subsistence farming. As a child, we used to go there for our summer holidays, to the verge of a bog that my father’s ancestors had survived on. I’m amazed by how folks would have survived in that type of environment. They must have been of some mettle, serious spines. I like the feeling I get when I go there.
Describe yourself in three words.
I am reactive. I am intense. I am friendly. I’ll add another, if I may? I’m also extremely enthusiastic.
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When did you last get angry?
I’m very familiar with this emotion. I have explored it, I have experienced it often, and I’ve got quite a range. Back in the day, a long time ago, I would trip out, lose the run of myself, but I realised getting to that state was problematic, destructive and useless, so over time, I figured out how not to get to that place. What I’ve noticed now is that I don’t get angry; I go to sadness much more readily when I see some of the injustices that are going on in certain places in the world. It’s profoundly upsetting.
What have you lost that you would like to have back?
I lost a coin. When I was doing up that small house in Kilmacannon, I was digging at the floor in the top room to pour in some concrete and to put a bit of insulation down. I found a King George III coin. It was from, I think, 1770 or 1780, and I was so excited because I’m very interested in ancestry and history. And then it just disappeared; I must have dropped it. I often think about that coin.
What’s your strongest childhood memory?
When I was a child, I would like to fight other kids around my own age, but sometimes I would pick the wrong fella. I once got into a fight with an older lad, and as a result, I had to be rushed to hospital for an operation. I was six or seven, but I remember the surgeons, the masks, and being counted down into the anaesthetic. A more positive but equally intense memory is walking with my dad in Kilmacannon, and he saying to me that when I was an adult, would I mind the cottage? And I remember saying, “yeah, Dad, I will.”
Where do you come in your family’s birth order, and has this defined you?
I’m the youngest of six, and in a bigger family, attention is a valuable commodity, so maybe you create the means to get that attention. Maybe in my case, I learned to say things at a particular time, get into fights, put on outfits, sing songs, make up choreographies, stand on one leg or ask my sisters to tie me up and leave me in the coal shed. I like trouble in some ways. Trouble is usually where the truth is, where things are hidden.
What do you expect to happen when you die?
I would say my expectations are probably of no consequence, but I believe in continuation, and I think energy is eternal. I’d imagine there’s a process of transformation, in which you no longer are walking around in human form, and that you merge with a wider, broader, unimaginable, beautiful, wonderful consciousness. Speaking of which . . . Manchán Magan was my very good friend. We were very close, and we ribbed each other about media things, interviews and the like. Doing this kind of interview, for example, is something I would never usually do, yet it would be something he would do all the time. So I’m doing this in honour of him, kind of, like, “okay, Manchán, it’s my turn now!” Let’s just say that the timing of your request was curious because it came not long after he passed.
When were you happiest?
I’m definitely happiest in the now, always now. I think we give too much importance to the pursuit of happiness. I wouldn’t say I’m suspicious of that, but more we’re conditioned to believe that happiness is something we should be experiencing all the time, that it’s the goal. The pivot to happiness is sadness, however, and you can’t have one without the other.
Which actor would play you in a biopic about your life?
There was a great series on Netflix about the US choreographer and dancer Bob Fosse and his third wife, Gwen Verdon. Sam Rockwell played Fosse, and being a fan of Fosse, I was thinking, yeah, maybe Sam Rockwell could play me.
What’s your biggest career/personal regret?
Definitely, no regrets. I wouldn’t even begin to go there. I think we always have to roll forward.
Have you any psychological quirks?
I have many, but I’m going to make one up, which is hyper reactivity. We have a couple of dogs with us here in west Kerry. One of them is a west Kerry collie, and if you are in the corner of the house and move your little finger, the collie will notice, jump up, and its ears will point up to the air. I’m a bit like a west Kerry collie. If someone moves their toe in a corner of a room, I’ll notice. It’s a superpower in a sense, and I suppose that’s part of the reason why I do what I do. At the same time, it can make for a tiring situation if you just want to go for a drink or have a chat with someone, yet you’re noticing everything that’s going on around them, above them and below them. I have to try to just focus on talking about the weather, if that makes any sense.
In conversation with Tony Clayton-Lea
