Gritty scenes of Dublin in the 1970s

While enrolled in a board­ing school in Dublin from 1958 – 1964, Kei­th Nolan dis­cov­ered pho­tog­ra­phy and was imme­di­ate­ly hooked, devot­ing him­self to it with­out a sec­ond thought. ​“I left col­lege at the ripe old age of six­teen as my par­ents became aware that I wasn’t both­ered about fur­ther aca­d­e­m­ic achieve­ments, only pho­tog­ra­phy!” Nolan says.

After assist­ing a local pho­tog­ra­ph­er who spe­cialised in wed­dings and com­mer­cial work, and oper­at­ed a colour film lab, Nolan went out on his own in 1967. Work­ing across com­mer­cial, adver­tis­ing, pub­lic rela­tions, and doc­u­men­tary projects, he was immersed in dai­ly hap­pen­ings, amass­ing expan­sive archive that reflects the spir­it of the times col­lect­ed in Dublin City, Sub­urbs & Coun­ty 1970s (Café Roy­al Books).

“The city seemed to still breathe with the echoes of its past, evi­dent in the remain­ing cob­ble­stone streets, Geor­gian archi­tec­ture, and live­ly pubs,” Nolan says. ​“Each cor­ner told a sto­ry whether it was a lit­er­ary lega­cy, the haunt­ing pres­ence of Dublin cas­tle and what it once rep­re­sent­ed, or the quirky shops along the Riv­er Liffey.”

The city’s true heart lay in the peo­ple them­selves, who forged a sense of com­mu­ni­ty across pub­lic space. ​“The ener­gy of the city was infec­tious, char­ac­terised by warmth, humour, and a deep appre­ci­a­tion for con­nec­tion and com­mu­ni­ty,” Nolan says. ​“This spir­it of togeth­er­ness defined the essence of Dublin­ers dur­ing these years, leav­ing an indeli­ble mark on the city’s cul­tur­al fab­ric and me.”

A con­sum­mate insid­er, Nolan crafts a lay­ered por­trait that explores the rela­tion­ship between peo­ple and place dur­ing a peri­od of intense social trans­for­ma­tion. Against a back­drop of high unem­ploy­ment, emi­gra­tion, and infla­tion, com­mu­ni­ties built col­lec­tive bonds, cre­at­ing a sense of belong­ing crit­i­cal to survival.

Nolan points to a per­son­al pho­to­graph of onlook­ers stand­ing in front of what remains of the British Embassy on the morn­ing of Feb­ru­ary 3^rd 1972. ​“It had been set on fire the pre­vi­ous night by a very large and angry crowd in response to the Bloody Sun­day mas­sacre in Der­ry on the 30^th of Jan­u­ary, when the British army’s Para­chute Reg­i­ment shot dead 14 inno­cent civil­ians dur­ing a civ­il rights demon­stra­tion,” he says. ​“I was one of many onlook­ers watch­ing the blaz­ing embassy that pre­vi­ous night but didn’t bring a cam­era for that occasion!”

For Nolan, pho­tograph­ing Dublin is an inti­mate act of con­nec­tion that comes from a place of love, respect, and cel­e­bra­tion for the city with all its beau­ty and flaws. ​“Dublin’s char­ac­ter as our cap­i­tal city was pal­pa­ble; it was more than just build­ings and streets. It was the spir­it of its peo­ple, their resilience, wit, and warmth, they infused the city with life,” he says.

“The pubs I fre­quent­ed served as meet­ing places, cheque cash­ers, mes­sages left, sto­ries were shared, songs were sung and new friend­ships were forged. As a pho­tog­ra­ph­er, cap­tur­ing Dublin meant cap­tur­ing its essence, its soul. It meant freez­ing moments in time that reflect­ed the city’s rich tapes­try of his­to­ry, cul­ture, and humanity.

Dublin City, Sub­urbs & Coun­ty 1970s is out now.

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