Art prankster Scratch Dat Itch gives us the background to our page 3 golden girl.
People ask why, we said why not.
Every day for twelve weeks I crossed that bridge. I noticed after some time that there were two empty plinths awaiting the arrival of some art. I started to percolate the idea and then decided that there was only one piece of art that would work: The lady on the rock; two ladies so that we had one should face North and one should face South. A designer friend agreed to help with the project.
We sourced and painted her so that she looked like she’d been reclining there since 1821. Under the cover of darkness, on an August night, we walked up the bridge with a sealing gun plus the statues. It was a swift operation and the only collateral damage was the fright we gave an elderly couple with our suspicious actions.
For ten days the ladies reclined and looked towards their respected sides of the city. Thousands of people passed them by. The next morning I went down early to see if the arrival of the art was going to be greeted. The surprise came when our efforts to ensure that she looked like she belonged meant that few actually noted her. One exception was the beggar who saw the statue, made the sign of the cross and hunkered down to his pitch beneath her imperious gaze.
Some thought her arrival a miracle and stories were invented. She became a symbol for people who don’t give a fuck about art. People interpreted the ladies in their own way and the ideas of what they meant flew past them like the Luas itself.
Some idiots broke the arms and we knew that with that her life expectancy shortened. She probably ended up in the Liffey, the graveyard for much of this city’s junk.