Max HeyraudThe Complex has fallen, another casualty in a city systematically evicting its creatives.
Last Thursday, The Complex announced that it would be officially closing its doors, citing “the failure of Government and Dublin City Council to secure a viable resolution.” In Dublin, and in Ireland more broadly, the public has become somewhat used to, and to a degree numb to, venues closing. But this one hurts that bit more. This closure follows prolonged engagement and repeated assurances from government and council bodies that there was a lifeline for a venue sitting at the very heartbeat of Ireland’s creative capital, Dublin.
So why is the closing of The Complex so significant?
The Complex was a different kind of home, a different kind of space, for so many people. For some, it was a home for warehouse raves; for others, an arts studio where they could hone their skills in textiles. For some, it was a place to rehearse and perform in film and theatre; for others, a rehearsal space to bring music and dance to life. And for many, it was just a peaceful space to connect, create, and think. It was once home to Dublin Digital Radio, one of the city’s few truly independent and forward-thinking broadcasting stations. For so many, The Complex represented exactly that: a space that looked to the future, a space that backed artists across all disciplines.
While we’re used to writing about clubs closing, there are very few spaces that have held this much weight across so many different communities that have shuttered in recent times. Its closure echoes that of the Tivoli Theatre, a hub for the arts that acted as a pinnacle venue for underground electronic music for many years, while for others it was home to pantos and plays. It was distinctly Dublin, and even more so Dublin 8, a Liberties home for so many. The closure of The Complex feels like yet another cruel erasure of shared cultural spaces in a city that is being steadily stripped of them. Notably situated on the North of the Liffey, at Smithfield, a part of Dublin which is crying out for creative spaces.
Last week, Eoghan Ó Ceannabháin of People Before Profit posted on social media that six million euros was all that was needed to save the venue through the capital purchase of the building. He compared this to the extra ten million euros that then-Minister Pascal Donohoe handed to the World Bank, money they didn’t even ask for. Ó Ceannabháin juxtaposed the protests and over 16,000 signatures gathered to save The Complex with the fact that the World Bank didn’t even have to request the funds. It’s a valid and cruel comparison that places the Irish government’s view of the arts in a stark light, as if they sit firmly at the bottom of the food chain of priorities.
When you zoom out and look at Ireland’s current global standing in the arts, the shuttering of The Complex feels even more absurd and brutal. Both Paul Mescal and Jessie Buckley were nominated for two of the most distinguished awards at the Golden Globes—Buckley for Best Female Actor and Mescal for Best Supporting Actor, with Buckley taking home a landmark win. During the press tour for Hamnet, the film they both starred in, Mescal spoke to Joe about his “frustration” with “institutions being knocked down” while studying drama in Dublin. He also noted that he doesn’t feel Ireland truly “cultivates” its own talent. Those comments ring brutally true amid yet another erasure of a key cultural space, over a decade on from the period he was reflecting on.
Once again, Ireland is punching above its weight at the Grammys, with multiple nominations including Donnacha Dennehy, Emma O’Halloran, and Naomi Louisa O’Connell, following last year’s groundbreaking total of 18 nominations. But where is the support for the arts at home? How many of these nominated artists are actually able to live and work here?
If you look more closely at electronic music and club culture, Ireland over the last decade has positioned itself firmly at the forefront of the global scene, particularly in terms of the volume and quality of genuinely world-leading artists it continues to produce. If we measure influence through musical impact, international demand, and cultural footprint, it’s fair to say that artists such as BICEP, KETTAMA, Rebuke, Jazzy, Tommy Holohan, DART, Belters Only, Kerrie, Obskür, Saoirse, Sunil Sharpe, blk., Mano Le Tough, Spray, Alt 8, Sally C, Cromby, Krystal Klear, Or:la, Max Cooper, Calibre, DeFeKT, Yasmin Gardezi, and many more are at the forefront of multiple movements and scenes within electronic music and club culture.
Yet of the 23 artists listed above, fewer than 35 per cent still live in Ireland. That is a damning statistic for a country whose electronic music output so vastly outweighs its population size. Our artists are leaving, and while some would inevitably do so, many likely would have stayed had conditions for artists here been different. Instead, they’ve watched venues close one after another and have been forced to ask why they should remain in a country that consistently fails to support them professionally or culturally.
For many, Ireland can still be a place to make your mark. But when venues continue to shutter, when rehearsal spaces, studios, and cultural hubs disappear, how far can an artist realistically climb? The answer, increasingly, is not very far at all.
Ireland’s place in the global arts sphere is more visible than ever. From the outside, one could easily assume that this is a country investing heavily in the arts and actively cultivating its talent. You would be wrong. Instead, we are dismantling our cultural spaces and crushing the conditions that allow artists to survive, let alone thrive. We could be a home for the arts—but instead, we’re evicting them. Sounds about right.
