Magnificent bronze statue of city’s inspiration teeters toward scrap heap

A sneak peak of ‘Gailbhe’. The full-height nude female in stylised bronze with an aged patina stands gracefully atop a fluvial boulder. With her hair backswept by riverine wind, she plays a carnyx-like horn toward the city and bay bearing her name.

A sneak peak of ‘Gailbhe’. The full-height nude female in stylised bronze with an aged patina stands gracefully atop a fluvial boulder. With her hair backswept by riverine wind, she plays a carnyx-like horn toward the city and bay bearing her name.

A stunning statue of the mythical princess the city, county and bay of Galway are named after may never grace the banks of the Corrib after a spat between its maker and the City Council.

Sculptor of international renown Alan Clarke has written a five-page account of his attempts to have Gailbhe installed on the city’s newest bridge, the €10m Droichead an Dóchas.

The Advertiser has seen the finished Gailbhe, and can reveal Clarke has formally withdrawn from the project. It would have been the city’s first ever erection of a statue to an individual woman - better known as Galvia, in Latin - who may have actually existed in reality.

The city’s three existing, female-form statues, Galway Girl on Quay Street, John Behan’s Equality Emerging opposite the cathedral, and Mike Wilkins’ Final Journey commemorating the Magdalene laundries, are archetypes. Galway boasts no civic statue of an historical, real woman.

“I have been a professional artist for over 25 years, in that time I have worked on projects large and small, national and international, public and private, and I reluctantly say that Galway City Council has been the most difficult client I have ever dealt with,” Clarke says.

In response to an enquiry on the dispute, Galway City Council said it “remains willing to engage constructively with Mr Clarke with a view to resolving the outstanding issues and, ultimately, facilitating the installation of the sculpture.”

After beating 26 other artists in an international competition run by Galway City Council for the €47,500 commission in 2023, Clarke spent four months clay-modelling the daughter of the Fir Bolg chieftan Breasail, who legend holds drowned in the raging River Corrib, once known as Abhainn na Gaillimhe. Casting the seven-foot nude in bronze at a foundry took another four months, with works complete in September 2024.

It was, however, during this time that Clarke maintains the project descended into “farce” when a decision was made without his input to change the location of the statue from an elevated platform overlooking the western end of Droichead an Dóchas, to elsewhere - likely where the path separating the Corrib from the Friars’ River Canal terminates below the Salmon Weir Bridge.

Rocky horrors

Gailbhe’s plinth is an imagining of the rock she is supposed to have slipped from and drowned in the Corrib. Depicted in a 1651 pictorial map of Galway, and thought to have been blasted in weir works with its rubble incorporated into foundations of the County Club perched above it, Clarke’s problem was communicating with a bridge engineer about placing his new, manmade outcrop.

“It was, I am very sorry to say, something of a farce right from the beginning. Uncertainties about the location of the sculpture began to manifest themselves almost immediately. Decisions fundamental to the project, such as changing deadlines, were repeatedly made without any consultation with me, despite there being two separate clauses in [my] contract saying that I was to be involved in the decision-making.”

A breakdown in communication between Clarke, and city officials about how and where to securely mount the plinth resembling the famous rock, was the final straw, despite Clarke claiming to offer several olive branches to the local authority whose Arts Office he singled out for praise.

“I entered the competition in good faith, and was absolutely delighted to have been selected, by the adjudication panel, to create my proposal for the Gailbhe sculpture. All aspects of my proposal, including it’s proposed location, budget, timelines etc, were within the parameters set out in the brief, and approved by the panel.

“But reluctantly I report that the project turned into a long, drawn-out process, that I am still dealing with three years after it started, and has caused profound damage to me personally and to my career,” he said, adding that he was paid two fees of €19,100 each, totalling €38,200, by the council, and is owed €9,300 plus other expenses.

Clarke says City Hall is demanding he repay these fees, a claim it rejects.

“The Council does not consider it appropriate to comment publicly on the detail of discussions which have taken place between the parties in an effort to resolve the matter. However, the Council wishes to clarify that it is not accurate to characterise the Council’s position as simply a demand that Mr Clarke repay the sum of €38,200.

“An issue remains regarding the delivery and installation of the sculpture. The Council has responsibilities in relation to the safe installation of the sculpture and must ensure that any works undertaken comply with the applicable safety, engineering and regulatory requirements. The Council’s position in relation to the installation of the sculpture has been informed by those obligations,” said a spokesman.

Clarke is appearing in the Clifden Arts Festival this weekend, with his exhibition Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Totems showcasing a selection of figurative works from the last five years in bronze, aluminium, plaster, and ceramic. Meanwhile, Gailbhe languishes in Clarke’s County Wicklow backgarden, facing an uncertain future.

“This sculpture should be in Galway, and if it is eventually unveiled, I would far prefer that it be with an air of celebration, rather than under a cloud of scandal or mistrust,” says Clarke.

The first petition to Galway’s Town Commissioners to erect a statue of Galvia by the river was in May, 1840, from a James O’Flaherty of Taylors Hill. It was rejected for financial reasons, and two years later the city faced food riots during the Famine.

Almost two hundred years later, Galvia’s return to the city which bears her name remains, perhaps, as remote.

 

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