What is apparent upon first entering the gallery is the sparseness of the hang followed by the solitary voice of 'The Notes' narrator from the next room. This feeling of absence pervades the space along with the film work and is a beautiful analogue to the physical and emotional absence associated with loss. 'The Note' is the suicide letter of one of Murphy's distant relatives and the core for this exhibition.
The sound from the 10 minute single channel video work haunts the almost absent white cube style gallery and you are confronted with a single portrait devoid of its subject. In focus an old birdcage style microphone in front of a dark theater and a sea of empty seats. In the reflection of the glass the viewer experiences themselves alone on stage the same stage as 'The Notes' reimagined protagonist.
The solitary female figure stands on a stage addressing a nonexistent or imaginary audience with her back to camera her face never seen. The banality of her words is quite disconcerting and is so specific and personal that it at least at first glance, seems inaccessible to any but those who knew him/her. A pattern emerges between sung verse and spoken soliloquy, it becomes painfully apparent that the writer of 'The Note' was a very isolated person, as he/she appreciatively tallies and gives thanks to the few meager fragments of kindness to which he/she had clung. There is an almost hymn like quality to this song and at points we are not sure if we are observing a prayer or a final goodbye . A myriad of faceless characters are mentioned including the protagonist's doctor, who is expanded to become the subject of a fictitious therapy session and Murphy's other video work in this show. In the composition Murphy seems to embed a cross between the spotlights and the central character, this echoes the martyr like resignation to fate of our protagonist.
Upon the farthest gallery wall hangs the score to 'The Note' almost an artifact of the missing, this is then followed into the office space of the gallery and the illusion of absence is shattered. The remaining two photographic works take on a postcard quality and when thought of in this cluttered context and are simply out of sync of the shows greater thrust. This undermines to some degree the power of the rest of the show.
There is a lovely dark humanity in this work, especially the central video piece and the overall sensations associated with loss, place this work as a somber requiem to the many especially in the Australian society who have been affected by the loss born of suicide.
