elba martinez    chupones con grupos musicales

I have asked members of these groups to make me a hickey on my neck; on a public space, on a normal day (2011-13).

Elba Martinez aims at a juicy target: that of how delicate gestures and apparently trivial situations weave and unravel the mystery. The spaces in which vision darts obscenely the print is the authentic witness of the fleeting encounter; real wink of the mystic-symbolic aesthetics; where the poem-thing speaks without any ventriloquism, as the own non-return will expresses. All the space of absence on which Elba Martinez works has a unique mission: As Deleuze said, the “y” is diversity, multiplicity and destruction of identities. At the end of all Elba´s work in this sequence is just that: the meeting and its signal; the night as a stage for two. To live is to survive to humiliate in survival. Not the simple esthetic appearance but its meaning. Francois Pluchart (author of “ Manifesto of body art” in 1974)said clearly: ”In the origin of art are the bodies not the things” Pleasure, suffering, illness, death, happiness and so on, start in the body. There is no exhibition in Elba Martinez but hiding; no identity but difference.

Text Excerpts from Diego Medranos ¨El homicidio ritual en pleno no retorno¨ about the work by Elba Martinez.

Heroin smokes over 30 x 50 and 40 x 60 cm. pvc, smoked by anonimous people and collected in 2006.

Talking about Henri Michaux and the heroin smokes that come along with the work by Henri Elba Martinez, life’s a hard drug, like the alcohol of life, and wisdom is also like that, as Bataille said, in this country where nobody reads, in this country which is as illiterate as life itself. And only death is clear, only death is not a drug and death alone is truth. And as Malraux said, only death converts the human condition into destiny, and that is Christ and the Anti-Christ: only death pacts with the devil of life, only death is not sin: even clearer, Goethe said mehr licht when he was dying, more light and that was how death was going to illuminate us, death, a single magician who turns a piece of bread into a jewel, and a chicken leg into treasure and that’s life, a chicken leg on the ground, a bird’s leg for ten shillings, as I once said in a poem I wrote about hashish, or, as Shelley said, a shiny stain on a muddy scene and poems are never finished, poems are the end of life. Or as Bataille said, the peak of the human condition is on the Doctor Petiot’s periscope.

Leopoldo María Panero. Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, 2006.