Skip to content
Edgar Martins
  • about
  • news
  • works
  • exhibitions
  • videos
  • essays
  • press
  • bookshop
  • work /

    Destinerrances, 2019

    Destinerrance is a term proposed by the French philosopher Jacques Derrida, which combines notions of destination and destiny with error or errancy. Every missive, every letter, he suggested in La Carte Postale, risks ending up in the wrong place, being misinterpreted, arriving at the wrong addressee, because it must use iterable language, and therefore the context of any given utterance can never be finally identified or exhaustively delimited. Every written letter becomes a dead letter too, gets stuck in the dead letter office, no return to sender, no addressee found, because of the inherent quality of writing to detach from its author, to circulate and continue to signify long after death. Derrida plays with the idea of the postcard – the text open, unsealed, free for all to read, yet closed, encrypted, intended for one addressee – as the emblem of writing at once always disclosive yet closed and enigmatic. Every note, every photograph, I submit, is foundationally readable yet ultimately unreadable.

    Taking as a starting point a collaboration with offenders based in the Midlands, this work addresses the gaps in information, perception and representation and the profound anxieties that pervade contemporary photographic discourse, when documentary photography and questions of ethics and visibility intersect.

    The artworks displayed in this gallery depict photographs of personal letters I exchanged inmates at HMP Birmingham over a period of two years. They are presented as 5×7” prints, the exact size of the official prison correspondence stationery, which inmates are obliged to use when corresponding by post . In order to conceal the contents of the letters from the public, I overexposed the original prints. Later, I bathed the darkened prints in a liquid solution over a period of two months in the hope that, by peeling away the color layers of the photographic paper, I might reveal some of the previously obscured contents. Ironically, the chemical composition of the photo paper destroys the photographs in the process, creating highly textured, tough unredable images.

    My objectives with these works was explore a visual language of subtraction and obfuscation rather than revelation.

    I was interested in questions such as: what does it means to show something? Is not showing or not showing in its entirely, showing anything at all? Photography for so long has been defined by a relationship with the subject it purports to represent. So what does it mean for photography if it does not identify with the its subject but its absence? Can absence be a form of activation?

     

  • 1/07/2016 – D-Day or Not D-Day! Got sentencing delayed till Monday as kastrati having a Newton Hearing.
  • 4/07/2016 – The press were given booklets for their reporting. That battered my head. It’s bad enough that I suffer the ignominy but I kept thinking about the kids and how a press cutting may affect them. Devastated bout my NCA mugshot with the quadruple chin as well.
  • 14/07/2016 – ‘V’ excelled my expectations in terms of mitigation and made me think I should have run trial on the 2nd indictment. Maybe a bit too much on the “drama in childhood that prevented me making the most of my intelligence”. At one point he compared me to Jeffrey Archer and showed the judge a press release of me with Lorraine Kelly to illustrate my fall from Grace. Kept thinking he was writing the headlines for News of the World.
  • 22/10/2016 – “EX- MANCHESTER GRAMMAR PUPIL’S DOUBLE LIFE as 1.9 BILLION DRUG TRAFFICKER USING FAKE TAXI”. Article that our ‘R’ cut up from The Mirror!!! As well as destroy me publicly in Birmingham it actually done me a favour as had a good long chat with ‘R’ and he said he didn’t believe everything he heard in the papers anyway as it apparently said I was making a million quid a week!! He says: ‘if you were making that kind of money dad I’m sure we wouldn’t be driving a Vauxhall Corsa’. God I miss him.
  • 15/10/2017 – I’ve been keeping a diary of events, which covers the period of my sentencing. However, I’ve only recently noticed that there are various blank pages in these journals. These were times of raw emotion that I felt I could not address in words. Who knew empty pages could say nothing but mean so much.
  • 13th March 2018 – My year planner tells me that I have to book a visit today for my mum in a fortnight’s time. I haven’t seen my mother since my arrest, 2.5 years ago. I feared the visit would get too emotional in front of an audience of de-sensitised criminals that prey on weakness so I’ve been dragging my feet on this. I’m assured though she has been well drilled as to the appropriate prison etiquette. Still… I’m bricking it.
  • 29th March 2018 – Just feel like everything is going the wrong way again. No visits booked. No expecting mail. No courses to get into. No initiatives to push. Just nothingness.
  • 21/02/2016 – “LAUGH NOW CRY LATER” – the words on me pad mate’s neck! And that seems to be the road I’ve got to go down now. He’s got “BUILD TO LAST” on his hands. I guess time will tell if both him (and I) are built to last…
  • 4/07/2017 – I never new my biological dad, having found I was an illegitimate child in a letter from the Inland Revenue. I was raised to believe that my father lived full time at Buckingham Palace, because his job involved guarding the Queen. Plenty of siblings though, three to my mum, all to different dads, and as my ex-wife pointed out at Christmas dinner once, I was the miracle white baby my mum must have always wanted. We moved around a lot and at one point we lived on the ‘Shameless’ estate. I can honestly say we were never a burden to the Welfare State, but I suppose that resulted in me becoming what was then known as a “latchey kid”. Nonetheless, as family we probably qualified to be part of what the right wing labels the “emergent underclass that subscribe to a deviant value system which encouraged promiscuity, single-motherhood, crime and anti-social behaviour”.
  • 9th March 2018 – Unbelievable! Just got off the phone with my lad and feel a million bucks. I needed that. Since his phone broke it’s been nigh impossible to get hold of him. And when we have spoken, the one syllable mutterings have made me feel like he’s not bothered to hear from me.Today he started the conversation by saying he’d been thinking of me, which made me feel good. OK, granted, apparently it was whilst he was having a shit, but I’ll take that. I’m buzzing with joy that he thought of his old mucca whilst having a shit. We chatted for so long the money ran out. Brilliant, no computer games in the background.
  • 20th March 2018 – Sometimes all there is to do when you’re stuck on the wing is to lean on the thin high rails and watch what’s going on around you. That’s when I noticed thick grey fluff on a step. And more on another step. Then I noticed it at the edges of the floor and above me on the piping. It was on the top of the nuts and bolts and on top of the wires that made up the netting. It was everywhere and I had never noticed it before. The grey fluff had blended in with the grey clothing of the grey people that cast grey shadows on the grey walls. I suppose the ideal prisoner should be grey, dull and dismal in nature. THEY’VE CREATED THE PERFECT GREY SPACE HERE.
  • 27th March 2018 – MUMS’s VISIT. She looked well, but seemed more preoccupied with the cafeteria. True to form she complained about the tea and wasn’t keen on this and that. She inadvertently knicked a Ribena as she though Mirry had paid for it. Other than that was devoid of conversation. She left early. I handed her a letter to take but it seems this was not allowed so an officer went after her to retrieve it. She thought she was being chased ‘cause of the Ribena – like a shoplifter being grabbed as she exits a store. Apparently it was a funny moment.
  • 14th April 2018 – BGT is back on tonight. I noticed that it was shot before Ant McPartlin went off the rails. You can see that he was exhibiting signs of poor emotional wellbeing before his car crash. I can really empathise with him. When my marriage was breaking down I was found guilty of drink driving and the newspapers gave me a pretty large write up. Like him I used cocaine and like him I felt like my life was going out of control. Unlike him though I didn’t have millions to book into rehab… (DICK!) I reckon if I hold out a few years for his biography I’ll find out what his shrink says about this period in his life and save myself a few bob in therapy.
  • 18th March – 1/3 sentence mark!!!!!!!!!!!! Wow! Reached this point at last! Feels like time has dragged. Problem is now, it is a longer period from ⅓ to ½, than it was from ¼ to ⅓. So much has moved on in 2 ½ years that I dread the changes after 5 more years. ‘R’ is taller, Imo is wiser, ‘K’ is more independent. All getting on without any help from pops. As for me, balding, grey, knees gone, skint, pale as fuck.
  • 8th April – I called mum today to check on her and told her I was watching the golf in the background. “The what?” she says. “The golf ma” I says. “The Gulf son?” she says. “Na, the golf ma” I says. “Ralph who?” she says. “No, oh it doesn’t matter. Have you heard from Mirry?” I says. “Oh yes she went to a party at the Golf club last night!” “That’s what I said, Golf!” “Who?” she says frustrated. Scratch that. The first thing I will do when I leave prison is to take her for a hearing test.

Post navigation

previous
next