unfitting legacy

brief lunchtime saunter into the National Portrait Gallery with ever patient work friend Christian.

We see the rather marvellous (and very timely) Legacy exhibition. A series of photo portraits and films exploring Scots/Irish - Irish/Scots identity, specifically our (and I suppose ethnically this is my lot) propensity for marching about playing hate tunes and polishing brass buttons when even your heroes have signed forms, shook hands and retired. Specifically the photos and footage record two Glasgow bands, the Black Skull Corps of Fife and Drum and the Parkhead Republican Flute Band.

It's interesting viewing and the stark objective style presents unavoidable evidence that while despicable, there is a community and tradition here that lovingly binds as much as it outwardly hates.

While the exhibition goes some way to equal weight to both sides (the artist like me hails from both camps) it'd be daft not to mention that there are more Loyalist ones. Especially at this time of year (the 12th of July is a big deal), and especially this year in particular.

Ranger's disintegration has generated much gleeful river-dancing from their rivals but much furious stomping from their fans. When your tribe has been sold out as a tax loss where do you get a refund for your stolen pride? The administrators won't dish that back out. It'll take years to get to precious metals again from way down in the fourth division.

Travelling to Glasgow recently via the central belt townships I witnessed more union jacks and high-rise pyres than ever before. A friend in Stirling was accosted for crossing a huge march there, and shocked to see a flag up in his old boozer and old mates toasting the march. None of this had happened to him before whereas I grew up knowing that the sound of drums and flutes means there are people out there who hate you so much they have gone to the effort of making a song and dance about it. If I was caught out and in the proximity of a march I found myself worrying if I look too Irish (whatever that is anyway?) and if any of these drunken eejits really do have such a firm grip on history as to be referring to the anti-christ with such super-lager fuelled venomous certainty.

Overall the hate that propped these identities up is disintegrating. These are the last waves of a tide going out into historical obscurity for good ("Really great great aunt kasty, they marched and killed each other over a battle that happened 350 years ago? even though each side had a mixture in it's ranks and have interbred like drunk rabbits ever since?") I know it's a testament to just how deep the numerous injustices were on either side that the shock wave just keeps going and going and going... but there has to be a point where it stops and we all just move on to use other means of expression than bombs and bands.

Still it's hard to look these men and boys in the eye and feel the pull of heritage and community that keeps them doing it. I can only hope that if I can feel it for them, maybe next time I need to cross the street they can feel it for me.