Emilia Martin (PL～NL) is an artist passionate about storytelling and myths, primarily working with photography, sound, and writing. She grew up between two radically different realities: a remote farm belonging to her grandmother in rural Eastern Poland and Silesia, a heavily industrial coal-mining urban region in the West. The clash between these realities—patriarchy and extractivism versus rural mythologies and the sublime—created a space where she felt at home and continues to inspire her artistic practice. In her work, Emilia explores the power of speculation and reimagining the realities she inhabits. She sees myths, tales, and storytelling as effective tools for revisiting the past and weaving futures she wishes to inhabit. By using speculation and shifting perspectives, she revises and constructs personal narratives informed by intersectional feminist approaches, seeking nuanced ethical and inclusive practices. Emilia values collaboration and encounters rooted in vulnerability and authenticity, considering herself and her creative work as part of a larger ecosystem. She is one of the founders and a member of Radio Echo Collective (radioecho.net), an intersectional feminist online radio platform dedicated to creating spaces where diverse voices can thrive
Narrating myths with images is like verifying them in a first innocent context, but if we take into consideration the nature of photography, we are essentially dealing with fictional stories and fictional images, but both of which address such serious concerns of life. When and why did you start collecting rock stories?
This question of fiction / truth dichotomy is at the very core of my interests that run throughout this work. The way we tend to think of fiction and truth is binary and total. It is reflected in the language: myth is used as a synonym for fictional, scientific for true. By collecting and tracing stories and mythologies around meteorites and stones it becomes clear that what is true, and whatnot, is way more complex than we may like to think, and inseparable from the power systems in place. It is very interesting that you say that “narrating myths with images is like verifying them” because it addresses a certain position that a photographic medium holds. Photography functions as a proof, a container for reality, and it is partly due to its nature – in order for something to be photographed, it has to happen in reality, therefore it is a confirmation of its truthfulness – this is however a simplistic and dangerous approach. In times of AI, the relationship between photography and truth is once again a heated debate, but it is as old as the medium itself, already initiated by one of the pioneers of the photographic medium – Hippolyte Bayard. In 1840 Bayard, who was not acknowledged for his discovery and overshadowed by the more famous Louis Daguerre, created “self portrait as a drowned man” which is considered as one of the earliest examples of staged photography. In the photograph Bayard appears dead, and without a wider context of Bayard’s life and a hint in a playful title, an onlooker cannot know whether the photograph represents reality or not. Bayard, through this playful act brought into question the very nature of the photographic medium and its capacity for fiction.
As much as we aspire to believe in photography, we perceive myths and tales as the opposite from truth. It is however an equally dangerous assumption and that also becomes evident throughout my research. Myths and tales around meteorites have existed since centuries while modern science has only acknowledged meteorites as an occurrence in the late 18th century. The reports by the firsthand meteorite fall witnesses were not only ignored, but also mocked and ridiculed. After three hundred inhabitants of the Barbotan village attested to having witnessed meteorite showers on the night of 24th of July 1790, the response from the editor of the Journal des Sciences utile in Montpellier, Pierre Bertholon, was as following: “How sad, is it not, to see a whole municipality attempt to certify the truth of folk tales… (…) an apparently false fact, a physically impossible phenomenon.”.
The witnesses of the meteorite showers were not scientists, but people who lived or worked under the bare sky: field workers, native communities. What was dismissed by modern science was preserved through stories passed on by generations, subversively carrying truths. Who holds the power to tell truths and who doesn’t is a question of power, and structures that support it.
The series ‘I saw a tree bearing stones in the place of apples and pears’ has a fair amount of symbolism and conceptual elements. How did you manage to avoid the illustration of myths and give your images a universal, intriguing quality?
Thank you Ilias, that is very nice to hear. I will reply to this question with a little story behind one of the images from the work. As I was researching, I read that across my native Poland huge rocks were central places to local communities. People met around them to grieve, celebrate, exchange. Once the christianity arrived in the region, the majority of the rocks were either chopped and used as a material to build churches, or christianised as the appearance sites of a holy virgin. I was fascinated with this idea of a rock as a place of collective spirituality, and so when I was at the residency in Italy, I asked all the people there if they would be open to enact the scene of gathering around the rock while I would take a photograph. They were enthusiastic, and so at night we all drove to the big boulder I found in the field. People sat around it and put their heads against the rock’s surface. Since I am quite a slow photographer, it took a while before I took an image. Once I was finished everybody was quiet at first, and later agreed that it was a powerful experience, and that they indeed felt something deeply spiritual in the moment.
I really love this story, because it reflects exactly what fascinates me about photographic medium. While you may say that what we did was acting, I perceive it also as a genuine experience that was in its own way true.
How did you handle the archival images? I get the feeling that you utilise some unaltered in the project and some you use as inspiration for new pieces.
Firstly, I approached archival images mainly as references or sources of information. However, as I was going through yet another archive where I encountered countless, decontextualized images of stones, rocks and meteorites, I realised that working with these images can help me further communicate what I wanted to say. I didn’t want to just include archival images for aesthetic reasons, I needed to make sure that they are there for a very clear reason. Your feeling is correct – there are some archival images that are unaltered, and some that are very much constructed into something completely new. I see this process of altering existing images as very similar to the process of making photographs. However, I believe that recontextualising the image is also a form of altering. F.e. If you put an archival photograph of a rock from the 1920s in the context of a larger work about the meteorites, the rock and its origin becomes ambiguous, it opens itself up to speculation. I like playing in such a way and I see it as another way of challenging photographic representation. I don’t alter all the images, because I am more interested in creating a situation that poses questions and in which a viewer cannot know the answer to what they look at.
Did the people who shared the stories about the rocks have the chance to see your project after it was completed? I would imagine they felt quite fascinated and proud.
I have been in touch with people who I met and exchanged with throughout working on the project and these relationships are very dear to me. I really love when my friends as well as complete strangers share with me various stone/ meteorite related stories and references. For a while I used to receive pictures of rocks on instagram from an elderly man who, according to his profile, lives in Turkey – I have no idea how he found me, but all his images felt like little gifts. I have also become friends with artists who work around similar topics . I had a fascinating meeting with a scientist who researches meteorites in the context of extraterrestrial life. I find it wonderful that this work has really helped me in creating connections and friendship from within the art world and beyond. Whether it is an online exchange with a stranger, meeting a new friend or a scientist, a discussion with somebody passionate about rocks from a completely different field – all these exchanges are so special to me, and I feel so grateful for having them. I am happy to work with a subject that is universal enough for people from various fields and backgrounds to relate to it – it was always my intention to create work that is complex, but not exclusive.
Could you share your favourite documentation photo of this project displayed at a recent festival or gallery exhibition that represents the project? Within the realm of photography, some artists primarily publish their work in books, while others lean towards showcasing it in exhibitions. I think it’s evident that you appreciate both avenues, with a particular inclination toward exhibition spaces. How do you experience the sensation of witnessing your work being presented in diverse environments?”
I have never thought of books and exhibitions as a matter of preference, I see both as valuable contexts for sharing the work. My intention is to invite people into my work, create a space for reflection on topics I find urgent. Exhibitions are wonderful opportunities for creating experiences, meeting people in person, and exchanging about the work. Working on a book offers a great opportunity to carefully think of every single detail of how the story is going to be communicated, and fully claim the narrative agency.
Not having published a book in the past has not been my preference, but a result of the fact that I live in the precarious times when publishing a photobook is a luxury that cannot be afforded by everyone. My previous work “the blue of the far distance” was concluded into a book dummy, beautifully designed by a great Dutch book designer Sybren Kuiper and I would have loved to publish it, however after months of exploring all the available funding options it became clear to me that publishing it was simply not a realistic option, especially since I wanted to create a publication that is accessible and not only only affordable to a few.
I find it incredibly important to address these issues of privilege and accessibility within the art world. It has been a taboo for so long – it needs to be talked about more openly.
We live in times of economic and ecological crisis and who gets to publish a book and who doesn’t is a question of privilege and power, leading to what stories do we get to hear, and whatnot. I feel incredibly privileged to be in the position, where after all the years of work I will publish a book, and I do not take it lightly. It means to me even more so, that a publisher, Yogurt Editions / Francesco Rombaldi, who designed a book has a very similar approach.
Would you be able to share some insights into the upcoming publication of your project as a book?
In 2023 I won the Charta Award and as a result, together with Yogurt Editions, Francesco Rombaldi we spent nine busy months working on the publication which will be available this month (September, 2024). I am incredibly proud of this collaboration and I can genuinely say that the resulting book has exceeded my dreams. Early on we have agreed that we are working towards a book that will be accessible and can function within, but also beyond the photographic world, and this promise has been fulfilled. Nonetheless, the book is beautiful and can be judged by its covers. Amongst carefully edited images there is text, both archival and written by me. We worked hard towards communicating the story through the well balanced edit of images and texts. Like many art works, this book is a creation of a small crowd of people and it wouldn’t have happened without their work and belief, which translated into the resulting object. I feel incredibly grateful.
What potential interactions exist between photography and text? Many photographers note that this combination is one of the most challenging endeavours they’ve undertaken. In asking this, I’m thinking about how you incorporate text into your own work, as well as the ‘open-ended writing space’ you share via email.
I approach text as equally important to images. When I was small, I wanted to be a writer: I studied BA in English and American literature and writing has always been an important part of my practice, ever since I remember. Since I started working with photographs, I felt like I needed to focus on one thing, and now be fully the photographer. I am grateful for that phase, but I am glad that it is over and I can now allow myself to be open and free in navigating a variety of media according to what feels right. In 2021/22 I wrote a master thesis that is a collection of personal and theoretical essays around the theme of darknesses and night skies. It reminded me how much I love the process of translating a thought into a word, into a sentence, into a story. There is something deeply complex and profound in the process of finding a way to use language in order to communicate something deeper. In January 2023 I initiated a newsletter that anybody can sign up for which essentially serves as my writing platform. At first monthly, now more irregularly, I use the newsletter to write essays, poems, anything in between. At times personal, at times playful, it is my space to share my writing practice with whoever is willing to read. Text is very much present in all my works. It contextualises or decontextualises things, offers new layers. My sound works are often connected to writing or language, and so is photography. I am particularly excited with the way texts are used in the book that is about to be published. There is some more classical approach to writing, which guides the viewer in and out of the story, but there are also re-contextualised archival texts used in the similar way the images are. I love it when the images become stories, and text becomes images. This idea of traversing the boundaries of different media and categories is something that excites me deeply.
What is the most significant contrast in your perception of art today, in comparison to your initial days when you took your first shots?
My parents are the first generation of migrants that moved from the countryside region of Poland in the East, to urbanised West. I come from a long generation of farm workers, and even though I was extremely drawn to arts ever since my youngest years, it was really unclear as of what future it may lead to. My parents were, understandably so, concerned with the vision of me becoming an artist. In the larger context of the economically unstable, freshly democratic Poland, people in my surroundings didn’t aspire to be artists – they aspired to be financially stable. Being an artist didn’t seem like an available option – for a long time I believed that artists are some special, otherworldly creatures. It makes complete sense – most of the time when I learnt about art, it was about dead white men artists who most commonly came from a privileged social position and it was impossible for me to identify with. I didn’t really know about Polish women artists and photographers, and so it seemed like an unattainable reality. While my ancestors are not commonly referred to as artists and their creations are not archived in the institutions, they have been excellent storytellers and craftspeople. Both of my grandfathers were creative and excellent woodworkers. One of them built a darkroom in his basement and took photographs. My beloved grandmother was a textile worker and a great storyteller. While it took me a long time to envision myself as an artist, or the context of my upbringing as artistic, it is now very clear to me that it by all means was, but I needed to free myself from the dominant narratives in place that told me otherwise in order to see this. This is the most significant contrast in my perception of art today in comparison to my initial days, and this important shift informs my approach on multiple levels.
Thank you for your in-depth questions Ilias, I really enjoyed them and they gave me the opportunity to take time and reflect on my practice and position.
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