The project explores the ecologies & mythologies of Rossbeigh Strand and the surrounding coastline through various storytelling practices. From informal gatherings to biodiversity walks, performances and art-making workshops, the programme has opened its arms to members of the local community to come together and in their own words, “return our stories to the strand through collective song & movement”. We spoke to Amano about her involvement with The Mantle Project, how music and folklore has an important role to play in ecology and her own journey towards creative potential.

You performed as part of The Mantle Projects final summer performance at Rossbeigh Strand, a Creative Communities arts project supported by Creative Ireland. Why did you feel strongly about becoming involved with this project?

As a Kerrywoman, I am often struck by how sparsely our local stories and faces are incorporated into the image of our county as a global tourist destination. I was moved by the centrality of Rossbeigh’s communities – past and present, human and non-human – in The Mantle Projects. Rossbeigh is, of course, a place of outstanding natural beauty. Whether captured on a warm summer’s day or in the throes of a January storm, the strand will always deliver an impressive and enticing postcard image. In this paradigm of endless snapshots and carefully curated images, there is a temptation to engage with places of beauty as inanimate backdrops. We wait for a passing car to leave the frame before pressing the shutter. We crop out the seagull with the packet of crisps and the jogger in their hi-vis vest. The Mantle Projects felt to me like the opposite of freeze frame culture. It is a repository, and in it I could value Rossbeigh Strand as my family’s seaside day trip of choice throughout childhood, the place where most of my schoolmates learned to drive, and the place where I tasted a Pot Noodle for the first time.

Being raised in Kerry, how do you believe music, mythology and folklore can play a part in helping people to understand more about ecology and the importance of protecting our strands and coastlines?

Kerry is a haven for dark skies, sea swims, literature, architectural remnants of cultures long disappeared, our language, our Gaelic games, and biodiversity. It is also a place that facilitates an unsustainable property market, luxury tourism, and hyper-seasonally-dependent industries. Music, mythology and folklore are all instruments through which we can collectively contribute to imagining the meaning of “home” beyond the notion of ownership or capital reward. When we participate in creating a sense of home, we instinctively begin to notice our own distinct roles in nurturing and maintaining that home for future generations. When I witness the marram grass as part of my community, working very hard to hold the dune I love in place, I begin to interact with it in a different way, I realise that we are sharing a home. Music, myth, and folklore are the quickest routes through which we witness each other.

As an artist you explore across a wide variety of styles and genres, from free-form poetry to sean-nós. Why is transcending genres such an important aspect of your artistry?

I am curious about the world and the phenomena that motivate people to get up in the morning, or marry in a particular month, or bury their dead with specific rites. I studied religions and politics, and what I learned during that time is that for every cumbersome monolithic concept we can name, from “Christianity”, to “feminism”, “Buddhism”, to “anarchy”, there are always myriad conflicting and contradicting expressions to be found within them. We have a tendency to separate ourselves based on arbitrary differences, when our greatest commonality is our capacity for diverse expression. Humans are multidisciplinarians. We all change roles several times within a given day, nevermind within a given lifetime. I feel expansive when I can play with the dizzying array of artforms available to me. Other artists may feel more safe and held by the structure that genre can offer. Genre can be a ladder to expertise, its synonym is “discipline”, and I am rather undisciplined. My role in my ecosystem is to connect stories, sounds and spirits who might not have met before.

The Creative Ireland Programme’s vision is that every person would have the opportunity to realise their creative potential. As an artist, why do you think expressing ourselves through creativity is so integral to our sense of self and wellbeing?

I put my own creative potential on hold for a huge chunk of my life, and so I have a lot of empathy for anyone who is intimidated by the concept of self-expression. Realising our creative potential is complex. Sometimes, when we are thrown into the depth of chaos and catastrophe, we are pushed to the point of creative release. Creativity can be a lifeline, but the romanticism attached to the image of the tortured artist is rarely encountered in everyday life. For most of us, our basic needs need to be met before we can open up to our creative potential. We need to know that we are safe, that we are homed, that we belong to a community, that we will not be harmed or ridiculed, and that we are innately valuable. We need to have time to make mistakes, we need to have resources that allow us to access inspiring places, people, and art, we need our own protective mantles under which we can grow and play in peace. To give every person the opportunity to realise their creative potential is a utopian vision and there has never been a more important time to imagine new utopias.