The demise of another cultural venue in Dublin last week may not garner the same sort of attention the demolition of theatres and clubs has in recent times, but it is still a significant moment. Jigsaw, at Belvedere Court near Mountjoy Square in Dublin 1, was a beloved space, a welcoming dance floor, and a meeting place that drew artists, activist collectives, and those who valued community, conviviality and creativity.
Many will also remember its previous incarnation as the social centre, Seomra Spraoi. What’s especially sad is the inevitability of the closure. Dublin has become a rigid place that will not bend to the more eclectic desires and needs of those who want spaces where the value of their worth is not always preceded by a euro symbol.
There is nothing wrong with tourist hotels, expensive restaurants, or high-end bars. But a city, like any decent crowd in a club, is also about a mix of things
The cultural fabric of a city is not just about big arts venues, although that’s certainly a very necessary part. It’s also about the underground, the things on the fringes. It’s about the spaces that aren’t geared towards tourists, or those who choose what bar they’re going to on the basis of how Instagrammable the bathroom is. Jigsaw was also an early home for Dublin Digital Radio, a community of artists, DJs, musicians and alternative broadcasters that is without a doubt one of the most brilliant cultural threads in a city, where unfortunately the broader cultural fabric continues to unravel.
There is nothing wrong with tourist hotels, expensive restaurants, or high-end bars. But a city, like any decent crowd in a club, is also about a mix of things. It is not fair that eclectic cultural life in the capital is steamrolled to accommodate one kind of socialising. The pandemic – as grim as it is – presents the city with an opportunity. A huge issue has, and continues to be, alternative spaces. Access to spaces where alternative cultures and communities can bloom is beyond squeezed, and within this context, the closure of Jigsaw is seismic.
But hark, we’re about to have a lot of spare space in the city. Anyone who thinks office work won’t change, clearly can’t see what’s right in front of them. At least a large minority of those with screen-based jobs will stay working from home, or otherwise remotely, for at least part of the working week. Simultaneously, offices are being built all over the city that reflect pre-pandemic office culture. This is Emperor’s New Clothes stuff. With surplus space in these new developments, leases will have to become more attractive to prospective tenants, and rent will fall. The inevitable commercial property crash will likely see companies in substandard offices in Georgian buildings gravitate towards new, purpose-built offices. This will hollow out the Georgian core in Dublin, which was originally residential. This is one of the many shifts the capital is on the precipice of. So, where is the plan to transform Dublin’s Georgian squares into affordable housing and cultural venues. Wouldn’t that be fun?
The transformation of Dublin city from a thriving and interesting place where there is a sense of discovery, underground and edge, to one big commercial and office district with an abundance of hotels, has already largely occurred. We only need to observe the deadness of the city centre during the pandemic to understand that. But all is not lost, and it can be turned around.
However, that requires three things. Firstly, it requires an understanding and an appreciation that the habitat of a city will not be maintained if everything is motivated by land speculation and profit. Secondly, we need rent control so that young people don’t continue to either emigrate to cities that are much more exciting, or stay languishing in their family homes unable to achieve independence. Thirdly, we need a suite of imaginative policy provisions that protect grass-roots venues, that allow for commercial units to be easily changed to cultural use, and where preservation orders can be extended beyond architectural significance (which is important of course), to encompass a broader understanding of the cultural value of spaces.
Jigsaw wasn't some top of the range building with a million-euro fit-out and rooms full of fancy equipment. It was rough and ready, and beautifully so. The space was imagined into being by those who oversaw it and gravitated towards it
When the commercial property crash comes, urban dereliction will increase. The solution to this is obvious: give the spaces to artists, to DIY collectives, to inventive people who will breathe life into them. It’s shocking to see empty retail units on virtually every street in the city, long before the pandemic took hold. Any landlord who hoards empty units, should be fined twice the market rate of monthly rent, every month. They’d fill them pretty quickly if that was the case.
For now, the closure of Jigsaw marks another loss for a city that is haemorrhaging cultural spaces while pretending to be a capital of culture. But the people who populated Jigsaw, who built communities there, who found friends and came up with ideas, are still here.
Jigsaw wasn’t some top of the range building with a million-euro fit-out and rooms full of fancy equipment. It was rough and ready, and beautifully so. The space was imagined into being by those who oversaw it and gravitated towards it. A notable aspect of the remembrance of Jigsaw on social media was how few photos people had of the place. What a brilliant endorsement of the memories Jigsaw and Seomra Spraoi generated. I guess people were too busy talking to each other, too busy dancing, too busy having a good time, to be reaching for their phones.