Layla’s Gi s Claire Gillo
CLAIRE SAYS: ‘I’ve always had an obsession with that moment after death. There is this definite line that cannot be crossed from something that is alive and something that is no more. There is a fascinating connection between photography and death that stretches right back to the 1800s where many of the Victorians photographed their beloved after their death, but also photography is a tool that enables us to freeze that moment that can no longer return.
‘For this project, called Layla’s Gifts, I decided to photograph the small animals my cat (called Layla) used to bring to me. It started with a starling who looked so beautiful when I discovered it one morning dead on the floor. Its wings were open, and it almost looked as if it were still alive. I found that moment of not being able to return to its former self fascinating and beautiful, yet so tragic.
‘As a collection I wanted the images to look beautiful. I photographed all sorts of animals in all different states, however the ones that were more bloody didn’t make it to the final edit. I decided to photograph all the animals against a black background because not only is the black space a seductive setting but it also creates a sombre and sad tone for the animals to rest in.
‘Logistically this project was very much led by my cat, and she always seemed to pick the most inappropriate times to deliver her “presents”! I’d either be trying to get the kids ready for school or cooking dinner. When something is dead you only have so long to get it photographed so for two years in the corner of my house I had a small table, background and light set-up so I could instantly capture that moment as soon as I had an animal.
‘Finally, I should point out that I always tried to save every animal from my cat when I could and never encouraged her to go out hunting so I could benefit. She is a well-fed cat! Luckily there are a few that didn’t make it into my project.’
‘I found that moment of not being able to return to its former self fascinating and beautiful, yet so tragic’