WWDMD? (2023)

Cover image by Ryan O'Hare

I waited eagerly for Dirtee Murfee outside The Blue Posts pub in Soho. Although we’d been exchanging messages on Instagram for several years, we'd never actually met. Taking in the environment as to give me a clue of who I was in store to meet, the pub seemed sincere and homely amongst the chaos.

A stone's throw from mainstream Big Business in every direction, it had a loyal patronage from all walks of life. People who appreciate the value that can only be provided by institutions like the local boozer. Community, lively comfort and, of course, refreshments.

Murfee appeared and gave me a hug reminiscent of that from a long-lost friend. Electricity seemed to exude from her tiny frame, making me quickly regret only pencilling in two hours for this chat.

For those of you who don't know, Dirtee Murfee (@dirteemurfee) is a text-based artist based in London. Producing works that reference love, sex, and womanhood amongst other themes, she amassed a cult following that dotes on her shameless, relentless honesty.

Growing up in Slough, and later Dublin, Murfee’s dry humour reflects those working-class sensibilities. She credits her time in Dublin as formative in her self-expression. With good ol’ Catholic Guilt attempting to suppress her sexuality, she had to retaliate.

“Initially all my work was quite sexual, that's where ‘Dirtee Murfee’ came from - because all I did was talk about shagging! I feel so liberated by the idea of sex, I think it's the most human thing you can do and I think it's hilarious that it's so taboo.

During the pandemic that sexual expression changed to frustration... Me and my vibrator became best friends, I was sneaking around with boys, I needed to have sex! I see sex as healthcare.”

Mental health is another prevalent theme in Murfee’s work. Living with Bipolar disorder, she often explores her experiences of mania and psychosis. With such sensitive subject matter and frequently provocative opinions, I asked the artist if she ever considered the potential backlash of her opinions when producing her work. She noted only once:

“I was picked as one of the Women to Watch 2023 by Reem Gallery and I exhibited a piece I’d produced after an abortion I’d had that went wrong, leaving me with PTSD and mental health issues - I don't regret the abortion though, I want people to know that. It was an incredibly tough time, I ended up in a mental health home… The hospital was amazing and I was surrounded by so many amazing women but it made me feel worse than I was. I felt I was taking the bed of someone that needed it so I requested a discharge... After my discharge a man said to me “I think women should feel liberated by abortion”, and I remember feeling sober for the first time in months… I felt like I was in a movie.”

Describing the piece, Murfee notes small scars on the torso, representing the emotional baggage she carries from the experience - and womanhood as a whole. She spray-painted the pelvis heavily to mimic bloodshed, literally and metaphorically, and finally added her signature text:

“When the fuck am I supposed to start feeling liberated?”

Taking a step back to digest the piece, she felt a need to tone down the graphic suggestion of blood, concerned about the reception from her male audience. It's tragically poetic that a piece made to express dismay towards men imposing themselves in spaces that aren't for them, fell victim to that same notion. However, Murfee stresses that she didn't feel forced to make that decision:

“I wanted to do it… but it drives me fucking crazy now that my body did that. If I made it now, there'd be blood pouring out of it, but I was just so nervous. I felt so young.”

Grateful for all the support she gets, Murfee tries to engage with everyone who supports her art. One of these supporters ended up changing the trajectory of her love life with some Dirtee divine intervention:

“I had a piece saying “If you had sex with me during one of my artistic manic phases you're welcome”… this girl shared it on her story, I replied with a ‘heart eyes’ emoji and she replied “My boyfriend is fuming I've shared that, he’s just called me up kicking off-”, three weeks later she messages me like “me and that dickhead broke up” and I was like ‘not my art changing the algorithm of love!’ - that’s when I knew I made it!”

Quickly revising the last statement, she told an arguably wilder tale:

“I knew I’d made it when my friend was having a one-night stand and the next day he wanted to keep the party going and asked “Do you want to go for two pints of Guinness and a big fat snog?”, which is a line from one of my paintings, and she’s like “what? Why did you say that?”. He goes “It's just a phrase”, and she says “Yeah, by Dirtee Murfee?” and he asks “Yeah, do you follow her?!” and she's like, “She’s my friend!”

We laughed at the absurdity of it all, it’s only fitting that the first thing on your mind post-shag is “What would Dirtee Murfee do?”. I gushed about my enthusiasm for her success, speculating she could hit mainstream success sometime soon. Murfee practically retched at the thought of ever being considered ‘mainstream’. She knows how special her small community is.

They understand the nuance in the relationship between participants, often despite the singularity of the artist’s intent. The dynamic plays out like a Hun having a loud DMC (Deep Meaningful Chat) on the tube home after a night out, unabashedly talking about her innermost thoughts and feelings, then leaving them all on the Bakerloo line. And us? We just happen to be in the same carriage at the same time. We just happen to have been her, at one time or another.

This comradery seems to have been found in the most unlikely of places for Dirtee Murfee. Speaking about the end of her marriage, she recalled wanting to keep the divorce hidden out of embarrassment and fear of judgement from the predominantly Catholic community in Dublin. However, she found great comfort and support from her female relatives and expressed feeling more liberated than ever.

When speaking on personal identity, she shared:

“It takes so much work to know yourself, I don't know who that is. I want to be at a place where I know. I'm working on self-love, I'm really at a time in my life where I'm seeking peace and healing. Since I was 14 I've had partners, I just need to have no one for a minute. I need to be myself.”

It strikes me that Murfee isn’t aware of the bravery it takes to be as vulnerable as she is. To speak so freely of insecurity in one’s sense of self would scare many of us. Likely buckling under the societal pressure that we should know who we are, as proper grown-ups do.

This self-exploration and independence has altered her creative practice over the last year. Deciding not to exhibit work in 2023 due to a bad experience the year prior, she’s had time to consider what a perfect exhibition would look like for her work.

“I want people to come and touch the paintings, drink as much as they want, buy, don't buy, no pressure. I want a completely relaxed environment. I hate when you go into a gallery and it's dead silent, you feel like you shouldn’t be there. How uninviting is that? It's art, it should be for everyone.”

As we wrapped up the conversation and had another cuddle, I thought back to my initial impression of our meeting place, and who I anticipated meeting today. Community, lively comfort and, of course, refreshment. Dirtee Murfee delivered on all counts.

She is the embodiment of the local boozer, the girls’ toilets, and the late bus home. Her work effortlessly gut punches the oblivious and throws fists on behalf of those of us who don’t want to be the first to show our hand. She’s the big sister who kicks off with anyone who looks at you funny (even if you deserve it).

Coming out of the gate swinging, yet still, the first to give a hug - Murfee is ultimately a woman of the people - and when asking “What would Dirtee Murfee do?”, I think I’ve found the answer to be “her best”.