Dr Carla Thackrah
doctoral research & thesis
music, sound & video portraits
Last Portrait
1st Semester, 2015
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Events in my life dictated the next portrait of my husband of 20 years. I filmed this portrait a week before he finally succeeded in ending his own life in April, 2015 and a few days after his first suicide attempt.
Last Portrait
2nd Semester, 2015
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This is a re-edited version of Last Portrait for 3 screens. The bottom is to be shown on the right, the top on the left and the middle image is shown in front of the viewer.
For the central image, the sound is equally sent to right and left. The sound for the centre screen is the bodily sounds and sounds of emotional expression. For the central screen I largely chose images of the face that were facial expression with no narrative voice.
The narrative voice is panned either to the right or left as is the image. I hope the panning will move the viewers head to either screen or they may choose to stay in the centre to watch the face's expressions.
HOLBIEN
The Ambassadors:
The parabolic, distorted skull. Holbien's reminder that all, in the end, despite the fine display of wealth, scientific achievements, status, intelligence, all comes to the final point of death. There is no escaping it.
As we, the viewers, leave the darkened room where these portraits are displayed we meet at the end of the passage this image of Moshlo stripped of his 'subject'. (it will be distorted, parabolic in form) Is this a portrait? Holbiens parabolic skull doesn't re-present 'death' because it is not a portrait but a metaphor.' Is this portrait of Moshlo the equivilent because there is no 'subject' any more?
Dream 5 Mar 2016: Mosh comes to me with a feeling of much love. There is some sort of grid pattern on him . He tells me he has come from the other side to allow me to finally say goodbye to him. I embrace him, take him to his bed, tuck him in to the blankets and gently kiss him goodbye. He dies again and I wake.
The man who has just entered the abyss is not yet a corpse. The breathe has left his body and yet the light still playes over his features; they still appear to hold some power to speak to us. Does our gaze feel like it is slipping through the visible to the void where we may inscribe our own story, rich and full of more questions; the 'obtuse' meaning.
Dream 1st sept, 2016. I arrive home to find my house has been burgled. I'm not frightened. I arrive home again and this time there is someone unknon upstairs. I call out. It is an Indian woman. She has come to my house seeking refuge. She asks me to shelter her. I agree - I have many empy rooms. I find where the burgler entered, but thnk all he has stolen is my hard drive. I wander throug the rooms looking. I enter a room. Inside is my husband, Mosh, lying distraught, exhausted, incurled up sheltering his head with his hands. two children, the Indian women's children, are trying to play with him. He lies unresponsive. I pick him up and take him to my bedroom. It's bare but comfortable. I put him in my bed and tuck the blankets around him. I kiss his bald head lovingly and tell him to rest quietly, I will look after him. I wake.