A DIFFERENT POINT OF VIEW with Ciaran Tracey.

A man knocks at the door of the Ormeau Baths. He's heard about this exhibition, wants a look around, and what do you mean it's not open yet? He came up from Dublin to see it, for goodness sake. But he gets his look around, and is impressed with what he sees. 'See that there? I grew up around the corner from where that happened. It must've been 1971, maybe 72.' He looks at the minute label on the wall: it confirms his tribal memory with the precision for such things bestowed upon the Northern Irish.
The photo is of a young man propped limp against a lamp post, tarred, feathered and placarded. 'Aye.Sure he was after thieving the old ladies' meters.
That was the first step. And after that...' - he keeps eye contact, and taps his knee. The image he's referring to is probably one of the troubles' more fortunate victims. 'Out Of The Darkness', currently installed at the Ormeau Baths, is an exhibition of a hundred odd photos cataloguing the last forty years, ranging from the ghastly to the celebratory. And it's heady stuff.
Though the exhibtion as a whole shies away from the most grotesque of Northern Ireland's transgressions, the portrait of a listless Fr Alec Reid giving last rites to one of the off-duty soldiers mobbed, beaten, and shot dead when they strayed into an IRA funeral in 1988, is as chilling now as the footage was then. But the brutality is, it goes without saying, equal apportioned, and chronologically it's generous too.
Whereas much of the suffering is endured among thick black rim glasses and old Ford motors, the photos on display touch on events as recent as Michael Stone's incursion into Stormont Buildings, bringing matters right to the here and now. Deservedly, the gallery has placed emphasis on the fact that most of these photos were, of course, the work of press photographers.
So vived are the pictures, and so powerful what they evoke, that it's easy to forget they were the work of skilled hands and eyes. Many times these photographers were the first people on the scene, if not a part of that very scene. Several of these images have become so iconic that we take their perfect and enduring composition for granted - it doesn't see to register that a dedicated individual decided precisely when, what and how to shoot.
The murderous irony of that last line wasn't intended. But it's hard to escape, and throws into cold light the inextricable bond that our recent past has over the lot of us. We need our history, no matter how sordid. It defines us, and even after all we've been through, we maintain a morbid curiosity with it's unpleasent mementos. But in a way, though, that's healthy. And I'd suggest that a great many people need to see it - if even just for one last time.
Out Of The Darkness is altogether compelling viewing, But though it's an unjust comparison, I still rate Brendan Murphy's essential 'Eyewitness' book as the best visual companion to the Troubles' human cost.
Many of the photos assembled here are included in that coffee-tabled sized tome also, and it's book format is all the better for allowing lessons to be learned, and learned again, everytime it's opened. Indeed, it's rare that you set it down without a lump in the throat.
That precisely how we should feel, and this collection at the Prmeau Baths isn't too far behind it.
Our present embrace of Cafe culture and religious diversity is a comforting salve after years that witnessed almost pornographic violence. But we maybe need to have our hearts scalded a little every so often with this kind of thing, if only to put an end to us still finding dubious justifications fir it all.