c o l l e c t i n g e x p e r i e n c e s • s e l e c t i n g m e m o r i e s
EcoMe
Through my ongoing personal story of migration my practice revolves around the concept of home and its ephemerality. Visiting various landscapes, which become my temporary home, I connect with hidden stories of rocks, waterbodies, plants, animals and humans creating new threads in a new shared world.
Through my ongoing personal story of migration my practice revolves around the concept of home and its ephemerality. Visiting various landscapes, which become my temporary home, I connect with hidden stories of rocks, waterbodies, plants, animals and humans creating new threads in a new shared world.
12 things to remember before we die
Kingfisher green, emerald, reflecting on the water of a silent stream.
One thousand colourful droplets of rain-tears.
Sweet tears at the top of a river bridge while watching the rough muddy waters after a heavy storm.
A sensation somewhere in the middle of the chest, being in love.
The smell of wet soil after a summer rain.
Behind windows, the winter sunlight touching a pair of closed eyes.
A nice cup of tea after a 15 mile walk.
The smell of coffee on an early autumn morning.
A big breath after a day’s hard work and achievement.
Dreamy songs composed by raindrops.
The sound of seawaves on a calm summer’s day.
Swimming inside river water, smelling wild lilies and looking straight in the eyes of a dragon fly
Kingfisher green, emerald, reflecting on the water of a silent stream.
One thousand colourful droplets of rain-tears.
Sweet tears at the top of a river bridge while watching the rough muddy waters after a heavy storm.
A sensation somewhere in the middle of the chest, being in love.
The smell of wet soil after a summer rain.
Behind windows, the winter sunlight touching a pair of closed eyes.
A nice cup of tea after a 15 mile walk.
The smell of coffee on an early autumn morning.
A big breath after a day’s hard work and achievement.
Dreamy songs composed by raindrops.
The sound of seawaves on a calm summer’s day.
Swimming inside river water, smelling wild lilies and looking straight in the eyes of a dragon fly
The Suitcase
• The suitcase under the bed
• The suitcase has been stolen
• The suitcase contains drawings and sketchbooks
• The suitcase keeps the equipment safe
• Living out of the suitcase
• I place the same suitcase in different framed backgrounds
• The suitcases have other friends on its own kind
• Suitcases don't need a homeland
• The suitcase under the bed
• The suitcase has been stolen
• The suitcase contains drawings and sketchbooks
• The suitcase keeps the equipment safe
• Living out of the suitcase
• I place the same suitcase in different framed backgrounds
• The suitcases have other friends on its own kind
• Suitcases don't need a homeland
I live life as a constant experiment of movement and stillness. Of risking or forgetting myself. Being the director of a movie with many unpredictable scenes, improvising. There is no script, we write the story board as we go along. Small daily stories of ourselves or of others..
Ref: David Lynch..
Ref: David Lynch..
The travesty of every day's habits or the distortion of the purpose of every day's objects has been on of the most pleasurable creative processes since our childhood..
Πρωτεας: Το πλοίο που μυρίζει τηγανιτή πατάτα.. (on the way to Skopelos..)
H2o
H2o
The sun is the constant reminder of our impermanence, the water reminds us of continuity..
Years deep
They told me I am 4cm shorter; my skin becomes like the roots of an old olive tree; the wrinkles change the expression of my mood, do I smile or am I sad; hands look like dry leaves at the end of the autumn season; sexuality has been driving to the West. But I still feel like a child, alive and free, that child who was silently whispering sounds in the quietness of the night…
They told me I am 4cm shorter; my skin becomes like the roots of an old olive tree; the wrinkles change the expression of my mood, do I smile or am I sad; hands look like dry leaves at the end of the autumn season; sexuality has been driving to the West. But I still feel like a child, alive and free, that child who was silently whispering sounds in the quietness of the night…
Αλφαβητάριο
Autumn 2023. I woke up feeling forgotten, away from everything familiar I have had around me for many years worried about the uncertain future. I feel cabin fever trapped inside my own body, a body scarred by time and old trauma. And these challenging times I remember.. remember one of my first sparks in life, looking at these first illustrations from the old Greek book of alphabet “αλφαβηταριο”. Just to be able to feel again the same magic that a hatchling feels the moment it breaks its shell and a deep appreciation for life.
Autumn 2023. I woke up feeling forgotten, away from everything familiar I have had around me for many years worried about the uncertain future. I feel cabin fever trapped inside my own body, a body scarred by time and old trauma. And these challenging times I remember.. remember one of my first sparks in life, looking at these first illustrations from the old Greek book of alphabet “αλφαβηταριο”. Just to be able to feel again the same magic that a hatchling feels the moment it breaks its shell and a deep appreciation for life.
Mother Turquoise Colour
A gentle breeze on the face with small drops from the breaking of the small waves on the shore. The beach full of small colored pebbles and next to me my mother in a turquoise pareo sitting on the shore with her feet splashing in the water smiling... I am floating next to her in the shallows watching the waves. I wink at her while she throws the pebbles into the water commenting on the circular shapes..
Extracts from "Alphavitario stories"
A gentle breeze on the face with small drops from the breaking of the small waves on the shore. The beach full of small colored pebbles and next to me my mother in a turquoise pareo sitting on the shore with her feet splashing in the water smiling... I am floating next to her in the shallows watching the waves. I wink at her while she throws the pebbles into the water commenting on the circular shapes..
Extracts from "Alphavitario stories"
I was happy once..
My dad's front teeth had a little gap between them, kind of cute I always thought. And behind these teeth there was that dim smile; he was looking at me singing "Que será, será, Whatever will be will be, The future's not ours to see, Que será, será..".
The next moment that dull face would become monstrous. Its breath echoing loud voices, commands; it would touch my cheek, this big red head, fuming fire, anger, rage, big teeth with big gaps ready to tear me apart.
My dad's front teeth had a little gap between them, kind of cute I always thought. And behind these teeth there was that dim smile; he was looking at me singing "Que será, será, Whatever will be will be, The future's not ours to see, Que será, será..".
The next moment that dull face would become monstrous. Its breath echoing loud voices, commands; it would touch my cheek, this big red head, fuming fire, anger, rage, big teeth with big gaps ready to tear me apart.
Photo of by Makis Faros. Fender guitar of Fill Vaskalis, founder member of Yello Yell
For my beloved
1991-1993 Distant notes from a slide guitar - Απόμακρες νότες από μια Slide κιθάρα
In early 90’s I met Fill at a concert at a club names “AN” and he became my friend, my lover and guide. The sound of electric guitar strumming was a daily experience in the nice 5th floor apartment in Kypseli. The space between the walls was always full of echoing sounds bouncing from the ceiling to the floor, out of the balcony door and spread into the small Athenian road. Sometimes distant sometimes wild sounds of the old Fender, accompanied by an often sad but also strong voice, all creations of a polymath artist, musician, poet, photographer, experimenter; my beloved partner.
Στις αρχές της δεκαετίας του '90 γνώρισα τον Fill σε μια συναυλία σε ένα κλαμπ με το όνομα «AN» και έγινε φίλος, εραστής και οδηγός μου. Ο ήχος κουρτισματος της ηλεκτρικής κιθαρας ηταν καθημενινη εμπειρια στο συμπαθητικο διαμέρισμα του 5ου οροφου στην Κυψέλη. Ο χώρος ανάμεσα στους τοίχους ήταν πάντα γεμάτος από ήχους που αντηχούσαν από το ταβάνι στο πάτωμα, έβγαιναν από την μπαλκονόπορτα και απλώνονταν στον μικρό αθηναϊκό δρόμο. Αλλοτε απομακροι και αλλοτε άγριοι ήχοι από την παλια Fender, συνοδευομενη απο μια συχνα θλιμμένη αλλά και δυνατή φωνή, όλα δημιουργηματα ενος πολυμαθή καλλιτέχνη, μουσικου, ποιητή, φωτογράφου, πειραματιστη: του αγαπημενου μου συντροφου.
1993 RIP The wound Η πληγή
October 1993, the big shock that changed my life. “Vicky, Vicky….” Lying on his mother's knees, he breathed a sigh of relief and cooled off... Five months later I stopped taking all substances that were poisoning my existence, moved to Marousi and and lived reminiscing and experiencing the loss for the next 5 years.
Οκτώβριος’93, το μεγάλο shock που άλλαξε τη ζωή μου. “Βίκυ, Βίκυ….” Ξεστόμισε αχνά ξαπλωμένος στα γόνατα της μητέρας τον και ξεψύχησε… Πέντε μήνες μετά σταμάτησα όλες τις ουσίες που δηλητηρίαζαν την ύπαρξη μου, μετακόμισα στο Μαρούσι και έζησα αναπωλόντας και βιώνοντας την απώλεια για τα επόμενα 5 χρόνια.
2019 A Dream of Longing
Last night I dreamed of you. Like you came from the "other world" just to see me, just for one night. A very long and real dream. That we had a lovely time, just for one day. That day, or night I was with someone else. But when you came to me I left the "other" guy, just to connect back with you.. like then.. Very shy, very very shy... but such a great desire to be with you. I felt the imprints of your kisses, golden upon the surface of my body, carved, embossed and shiny. An erotic desire when two people become absolutely one. Fill... I miss you so...
Returning back to my conscious mind I realised that it was just a dream; and started to cry that familiar silent cry, very deep deep cry. The grief of loss never goes away and those we buried are still alive within us. Into the unknown reality of memory…
Χθες το βράδυ σε ονειρεύτηκα. Σαν να ήρθες από τον «άλλο κόσμο» μόνο για να με δεις, μόνο για μια νύχτα. Ένα πολύ μεγάλο και πραγματικό όνειρο. Ότι περάσαμε υπέροχα, μόνο για μια μέρα. Εκείνη τη μέρα ή τη νύχτα ημουν με κάποιον άλλον. Αλλά όταν ήρθες σε μένα, τον άφησα τον "άλλον” για να ξανασυνδεθώ μαζί σου.. όπως τότε.. Πολύ ντροπαλός, πολύ πολύ ντροπαλός... αλλά τόσο μεγάλη επιθυμία να είμαι μαζί σου. Ενιώσα τα αποτυπώματα των φιλιών σου, χρυσαφένια στην επιφάνεια του κορμιού μου, σκαλισμένα, ανάγλυφα και λαμπερά. Μια ερωτική επιθυμία όταν δύο άνθρωποι γίνονται απολύτως ένα. Fill … Μου λείπεις τόσο...
Επιστρέφοντας στο συνειδητό μου μυαλό, συνειδητοποίησα ότι ήταν απλώς ένα όνειρο. και άρχισα να κλαίει εκείνο το γνωστό σιωπηλό κλάμα, πολύ βαθύ κλάμα. Η θλίψη της απώλειας δεν φεύγει ποτέ και αυτοί που θάψαμε είναι ακόμα ζωντανοί μέσα μας. Μέσα στην άγνωστη πραγματικότητα της μνήμης…
1991-1993 Distant notes from a slide guitar - Απόμακρες νότες από μια Slide κιθάρα
In early 90’s I met Fill at a concert at a club names “AN” and he became my friend, my lover and guide. The sound of electric guitar strumming was a daily experience in the nice 5th floor apartment in Kypseli. The space between the walls was always full of echoing sounds bouncing from the ceiling to the floor, out of the balcony door and spread into the small Athenian road. Sometimes distant sometimes wild sounds of the old Fender, accompanied by an often sad but also strong voice, all creations of a polymath artist, musician, poet, photographer, experimenter; my beloved partner.
Στις αρχές της δεκαετίας του '90 γνώρισα τον Fill σε μια συναυλία σε ένα κλαμπ με το όνομα «AN» και έγινε φίλος, εραστής και οδηγός μου. Ο ήχος κουρτισματος της ηλεκτρικής κιθαρας ηταν καθημενινη εμπειρια στο συμπαθητικο διαμέρισμα του 5ου οροφου στην Κυψέλη. Ο χώρος ανάμεσα στους τοίχους ήταν πάντα γεμάτος από ήχους που αντηχούσαν από το ταβάνι στο πάτωμα, έβγαιναν από την μπαλκονόπορτα και απλώνονταν στον μικρό αθηναϊκό δρόμο. Αλλοτε απομακροι και αλλοτε άγριοι ήχοι από την παλια Fender, συνοδευομενη απο μια συχνα θλιμμένη αλλά και δυνατή φωνή, όλα δημιουργηματα ενος πολυμαθή καλλιτέχνη, μουσικου, ποιητή, φωτογράφου, πειραματιστη: του αγαπημενου μου συντροφου.
1993 RIP The wound Η πληγή
October 1993, the big shock that changed my life. “Vicky, Vicky….” Lying on his mother's knees, he breathed a sigh of relief and cooled off... Five months later I stopped taking all substances that were poisoning my existence, moved to Marousi and and lived reminiscing and experiencing the loss for the next 5 years.
Οκτώβριος’93, το μεγάλο shock που άλλαξε τη ζωή μου. “Βίκυ, Βίκυ….” Ξεστόμισε αχνά ξαπλωμένος στα γόνατα της μητέρας τον και ξεψύχησε… Πέντε μήνες μετά σταμάτησα όλες τις ουσίες που δηλητηρίαζαν την ύπαρξη μου, μετακόμισα στο Μαρούσι και έζησα αναπωλόντας και βιώνοντας την απώλεια για τα επόμενα 5 χρόνια.
2019 A Dream of Longing
Last night I dreamed of you. Like you came from the "other world" just to see me, just for one night. A very long and real dream. That we had a lovely time, just for one day. That day, or night I was with someone else. But when you came to me I left the "other" guy, just to connect back with you.. like then.. Very shy, very very shy... but such a great desire to be with you. I felt the imprints of your kisses, golden upon the surface of my body, carved, embossed and shiny. An erotic desire when two people become absolutely one. Fill... I miss you so...
Returning back to my conscious mind I realised that it was just a dream; and started to cry that familiar silent cry, very deep deep cry. The grief of loss never goes away and those we buried are still alive within us. Into the unknown reality of memory…
Χθες το βράδυ σε ονειρεύτηκα. Σαν να ήρθες από τον «άλλο κόσμο» μόνο για να με δεις, μόνο για μια νύχτα. Ένα πολύ μεγάλο και πραγματικό όνειρο. Ότι περάσαμε υπέροχα, μόνο για μια μέρα. Εκείνη τη μέρα ή τη νύχτα ημουν με κάποιον άλλον. Αλλά όταν ήρθες σε μένα, τον άφησα τον "άλλον” για να ξανασυνδεθώ μαζί σου.. όπως τότε.. Πολύ ντροπαλός, πολύ πολύ ντροπαλός... αλλά τόσο μεγάλη επιθυμία να είμαι μαζί σου. Ενιώσα τα αποτυπώματα των φιλιών σου, χρυσαφένια στην επιφάνεια του κορμιού μου, σκαλισμένα, ανάγλυφα και λαμπερά. Μια ερωτική επιθυμία όταν δύο άνθρωποι γίνονται απολύτως ένα. Fill … Μου λείπεις τόσο...
Επιστρέφοντας στο συνειδητό μου μυαλό, συνειδητοποίησα ότι ήταν απλώς ένα όνειρο. και άρχισα να κλαίει εκείνο το γνωστό σιωπηλό κλάμα, πολύ βαθύ κλάμα. Η θλίψη της απώλειας δεν φεύγει ποτέ και αυτοί που θάψαμε είναι ακόμα ζωντανοί μέσα μας. Μέσα στην άγνωστη πραγματικότητα της μνήμης…
Dreams / Ονειρα
Χθες βράδυ δεν κοιμήθηκα από τα υπαρξιακά. Έβλεπα τις εμπειρίες να περνούν μπροστά μου σαν fragments, το παρελθόν και το παρόν. Το μέλλον είχε μια απαίσια γεύση αβεβαιότητας.
Last night existential thoughts didn't let me sleep. I could see past experiences coming in front of me like fragments, the past and the present. The future had a disgusting taste of uncertainty.
Χθες βράδυ δεν κοιμήθηκα από τα υπαρξιακά. Έβλεπα τις εμπειρίες να περνούν μπροστά μου σαν fragments, το παρελθόν και το παρόν. Το μέλλον είχε μια απαίσια γεύση αβεβαιότητας.
Last night existential thoughts didn't let me sleep. I could see past experiences coming in front of me like fragments, the past and the present. The future had a disgusting taste of uncertainty.
Ίχνος μνήμης
Που και που μια είδηση ξυπνά παλιά συναισθήματα και μισοκοιμισμένες μνήμες προσκαλώντας σε μια αναβίωση του ταξιδιού, έστω στιγμιαία.
Με το θάνατο του Σπύρου το ’22 το χαρακτηριστικό του γέλιο ζωντάνεψε στα αυτιά μου και νότες από μια άλλη εποχή ξεπήδησαν στο τώρα. Η ηχώ μιας γενιάς σκοτεινής αλλά και δημιουργικής, χαρακτηρισμένη από το ιδιαίτερο δέσιμο μεταξύ των ανθρώπων, τον καθοριστικό ρόλο της μουσικής και του έρωτα αλλά και την καταστροφική χρήση ουσιών σε μια Αθήνα που δόθηκαν. Όπως και το '93 που έφυγε ο Fill Scars, ετσι και με την πρόσφατη αποχώρηση του Σπύρου, και κάθε φορά που κάποιος από τη γενιά του '80 μας αφήνει, οι υπόλοιποι μένουμε ακινητοποιημένοι μπροστά σ' ένα κενό και μια νοσταλγία, με έντονη την επίγνωση του δανεικού χρόνου που μας έχει δοθει. Η απώλεια έχει υπάρξει μέρος της ζωής μας από μικρή ηλικία. Όμως τα ίχνη όλων αυτών που έφυγαν στην πραγματικότητα δεν φεύγουν ποτέ, γιατί είναι πια συνυφασμένα με την προσωπική μας ιστορία. Τους φέρουμε μέσα μας απλά με ένα διαφορετικό τροπο.
Βίκυ Βέργου - σύντροφος του Fill μέχρι το τέλος.
Memory trace
Every now and then a piece of news awakens old feelings and half-sleeping memories, inviting a revival of the trip, if only momentarily. With the death of Spyros in '22, his characteristic laugh came alive in my ears and notes from another era sprung into the present. The echo of a dark but creative generation, characterized by the special bond between people, the decisive role of music and love but also the destructive use of substances in an Athens that was given. As in '93 when Fill Scars left, so also with the recent departure of Spyros, and every time someone from the '80s generation leaves us, the rest of us remain immobilized in front of a void and a nostalgia, with a strong awareness of the borrowed time he has given us. Loss has been a part of our lives from an early age.
But the traces of all those who left never really go away, because they are already intertwined with our personal history. We just bring them into us in a different way.
Που και που μια είδηση ξυπνά παλιά συναισθήματα και μισοκοιμισμένες μνήμες προσκαλώντας σε μια αναβίωση του ταξιδιού, έστω στιγμιαία.
Με το θάνατο του Σπύρου το ’22 το χαρακτηριστικό του γέλιο ζωντάνεψε στα αυτιά μου και νότες από μια άλλη εποχή ξεπήδησαν στο τώρα. Η ηχώ μιας γενιάς σκοτεινής αλλά και δημιουργικής, χαρακτηρισμένη από το ιδιαίτερο δέσιμο μεταξύ των ανθρώπων, τον καθοριστικό ρόλο της μουσικής και του έρωτα αλλά και την καταστροφική χρήση ουσιών σε μια Αθήνα που δόθηκαν. Όπως και το '93 που έφυγε ο Fill Scars, ετσι και με την πρόσφατη αποχώρηση του Σπύρου, και κάθε φορά που κάποιος από τη γενιά του '80 μας αφήνει, οι υπόλοιποι μένουμε ακινητοποιημένοι μπροστά σ' ένα κενό και μια νοσταλγία, με έντονη την επίγνωση του δανεικού χρόνου που μας έχει δοθει. Η απώλεια έχει υπάρξει μέρος της ζωής μας από μικρή ηλικία. Όμως τα ίχνη όλων αυτών που έφυγαν στην πραγματικότητα δεν φεύγουν ποτέ, γιατί είναι πια συνυφασμένα με την προσωπική μας ιστορία. Τους φέρουμε μέσα μας απλά με ένα διαφορετικό τροπο.
Βίκυ Βέργου - σύντροφος του Fill μέχρι το τέλος.
Memory trace
Every now and then a piece of news awakens old feelings and half-sleeping memories, inviting a revival of the trip, if only momentarily. With the death of Spyros in '22, his characteristic laugh came alive in my ears and notes from another era sprung into the present. The echo of a dark but creative generation, characterized by the special bond between people, the decisive role of music and love but also the destructive use of substances in an Athens that was given. As in '93 when Fill Scars left, so also with the recent departure of Spyros, and every time someone from the '80s generation leaves us, the rest of us remain immobilized in front of a void and a nostalgia, with a strong awareness of the borrowed time he has given us. Loss has been a part of our lives from an early age.
But the traces of all those who left never really go away, because they are already intertwined with our personal history. We just bring them into us in a different way.
Pikwik (RIP)
The house in the country
Following a path behind the small green metal gate, the house appears like a well hidden den, covered in greenery. Its doors are always open, providing shelter to every passing by animal besides its resident cats, chickens and insects. Oh.. and to humans too. Scattered chickens full of confidence, are always trying to get in the house with the first opportunity, sleep in a cats bed and practice typing on a laptop keyboard. Two black, two brown and one white are named Madam Lulu, Craquotte, Falbala, Baboula and the amazing Pikwik who is sleeping on top of a tree, using the cat flap, eating cat food and laying its white eggs inside the cat bed and the cupboard .
One the other hand cats are typically relaxed, all upgraded from strays to royal family members. 4 gingers, one white, one grey and two tabby, they are named Picpus, Clopinou, Ganoche, Parapon, Grisou, Kokkinos, Pomponette and Pompon. Grateful thoughts for the owner of this paradise house for her hospitality.
Following a path behind the small green metal gate, the house appears like a well hidden den, covered in greenery. Its doors are always open, providing shelter to every passing by animal besides its resident cats, chickens and insects. Oh.. and to humans too. Scattered chickens full of confidence, are always trying to get in the house with the first opportunity, sleep in a cats bed and practice typing on a laptop keyboard. Two black, two brown and one white are named Madam Lulu, Craquotte, Falbala, Baboula and the amazing Pikwik who is sleeping on top of a tree, using the cat flap, eating cat food and laying its white eggs inside the cat bed and the cupboard .
One the other hand cats are typically relaxed, all upgraded from strays to royal family members. 4 gingers, one white, one grey and two tabby, they are named Picpus, Clopinou, Ganoche, Parapon, Grisou, Kokkinos, Pomponette and Pompon. Grateful thoughts for the owner of this paradise house for her hospitality.
A winter walk on a Cretan mountain
Every time I take a path I can see it penetrating the land cutting the soil, almost like opening a wound whose top skin has been cracked and removed. Paths, made by man or animal or just being geological formations, are placed here centuries ago eventually becoming part of the planet’s history..
I see bushes leaning to one side or touching the ground. I observe plants bent by the wind, or leaning towards the sun. They are pulled by invisible microscopic threads like spider webs to the near by trees which keep everything attached to the land. Trees with figure-like shapes, often associated with unearthly creatures, are standing in familiar poses, praying, kneeling, lying, begging, threatening, hugging.
And then the wisely formed rocks, with their small holes and uneven steps, are home to known or unknown grasses; and passing insects, flies butterflies lizards snakes mice badgers rabbits scorpions ants…
My eyes are drawn up above the rocks and the trees; there is a bird perched, watching. I walk next to it and when it realises I am close by it flies calmly away; there is no fear just an instinct, it knows I was not a threat.
And then beyond any landlines there are the skies and the sea, miles of light and water. Beyond, another land again; and in between some fading islands like sea beasts floating in the huge waterbody.
Finally my eyes fly above into the skies, standing still for a few moments, an out of body experience. So much freedom in a soundless scape, there is no life no death just pure contentment. Fluffy white clouds, grey blue skies, the gift of feeling embraced by the universe.
Every time I take a path I can see it penetrating the land cutting the soil, almost like opening a wound whose top skin has been cracked and removed. Paths, made by man or animal or just being geological formations, are placed here centuries ago eventually becoming part of the planet’s history..
I see bushes leaning to one side or touching the ground. I observe plants bent by the wind, or leaning towards the sun. They are pulled by invisible microscopic threads like spider webs to the near by trees which keep everything attached to the land. Trees with figure-like shapes, often associated with unearthly creatures, are standing in familiar poses, praying, kneeling, lying, begging, threatening, hugging.
And then the wisely formed rocks, with their small holes and uneven steps, are home to known or unknown grasses; and passing insects, flies butterflies lizards snakes mice badgers rabbits scorpions ants…
My eyes are drawn up above the rocks and the trees; there is a bird perched, watching. I walk next to it and when it realises I am close by it flies calmly away; there is no fear just an instinct, it knows I was not a threat.
And then beyond any landlines there are the skies and the sea, miles of light and water. Beyond, another land again; and in between some fading islands like sea beasts floating in the huge waterbody.
Finally my eyes fly above into the skies, standing still for a few moments, an out of body experience. So much freedom in a soundless scape, there is no life no death just pure contentment. Fluffy white clouds, grey blue skies, the gift of feeling embraced by the universe.
Walking artist in collaboration with Sophie Cabot
August 2021 Crete
The sun is getting lower. Whispers of insects, microscopic mosquito bites mixed with the salty smell and the periodic wave sound. I am taking a breath during the long hot walk. In a planet that although it looks so big it is almost not.
I am paying attention to the nearest sounds of waves, clear and loud, while background whispers of a chatting sea are enriching the experience. An amazing orchestra of unpredictable unbroken unplanned music from water instruments directed by the maestro of magic. “You are far but you are close. With your ears I can hear the wild Atlantic Ocean while you through me can see the blue Mediterranean Sea. We are walking in the planet, we are walking in between.” Time slows down, freezing the waves for half an hour, our half hour. Being present in togetherness, in-tuned in seascapes of the north and south hemisphere. Under my feet, the hot sun is burning the surface, a bare landscape, brown and dry. And then the loud sea, the wind, the splashing waves, sandy and rocky patches mixed together
I can clearly hear the sound of rambling pebbles under my feet, stones, big stones, small stones, red stones.
Today I felt like a playful 9 year old who’s need is to questions new realities with wide open eyes and a laughter.
We are connected overseas with invisible threads walking next to water, visualising a water map that connects us together, above and beyond its vastness.
February 2022 Crete
Today it it a bit windy. I decided to follow the path that run in parallel to my usual costal walk. There are splendid views, it is kind of an early evening and cloudy, the shy sun is trying to go to sleep early today, hiding behind the clouds. “I know you can see me, in parallel geographies next to similar waters.” Rocks coming out of the sea looking half alive, formed in unusual shapes, a rock over a rock and another rock and some small stones in between, soil and some more rock. Half human, half animal. Sculptures in different expressions, which were creating illusions of sea monsters to the sailors and alien creatures to us all. They look disorientated, like they have lost their direction into the vastness of the landscape.I sometime feel they are trying to reach out to me, questioning their origin. Where can they grow roots, inside the deep ocean or under the hilly land? I am walking eastwards the sun is at my right hand side towards the endless Libyan sea. “I turn my head left the hush land, towards the Northern hemisphere to see you with my eyes closed, to imagine the morning coldness through the warmth of this evening ...hues of Prussian blue, orange, yellow, salmon pink, grey and violet blue. “ And hen I turn my head to the right towards the deep South where there is timeless hope. It is the heart of the winter and I can only imagine getting inside the waterbody and smell its salt.
It is getting darker and the moods are changing into green grey blue reflecting yellows, elements of turquoise and pale orange or brown, and a cerulean blue and white cloudy sky. Getting ready to say goodbye to tonight’s gentle sea with the silent but forever moving waves. So important not to feel alone at this moment in time, becoming one with the landscape, feeling humbled with it all.
Η μνήμη τον Οδυσσέα κυριαρχεί καθώς του βλέμμα χάνεται μέσα στην κίνηση των κυμάτων.
August 2021 Crete
The sun is getting lower. Whispers of insects, microscopic mosquito bites mixed with the salty smell and the periodic wave sound. I am taking a breath during the long hot walk. In a planet that although it looks so big it is almost not.
I am paying attention to the nearest sounds of waves, clear and loud, while background whispers of a chatting sea are enriching the experience. An amazing orchestra of unpredictable unbroken unplanned music from water instruments directed by the maestro of magic. “You are far but you are close. With your ears I can hear the wild Atlantic Ocean while you through me can see the blue Mediterranean Sea. We are walking in the planet, we are walking in between.” Time slows down, freezing the waves for half an hour, our half hour. Being present in togetherness, in-tuned in seascapes of the north and south hemisphere. Under my feet, the hot sun is burning the surface, a bare landscape, brown and dry. And then the loud sea, the wind, the splashing waves, sandy and rocky patches mixed together
I can clearly hear the sound of rambling pebbles under my feet, stones, big stones, small stones, red stones.
Today I felt like a playful 9 year old who’s need is to questions new realities with wide open eyes and a laughter.
We are connected overseas with invisible threads walking next to water, visualising a water map that connects us together, above and beyond its vastness.
February 2022 Crete
Today it it a bit windy. I decided to follow the path that run in parallel to my usual costal walk. There are splendid views, it is kind of an early evening and cloudy, the shy sun is trying to go to sleep early today, hiding behind the clouds. “I know you can see me, in parallel geographies next to similar waters.” Rocks coming out of the sea looking half alive, formed in unusual shapes, a rock over a rock and another rock and some small stones in between, soil and some more rock. Half human, half animal. Sculptures in different expressions, which were creating illusions of sea monsters to the sailors and alien creatures to us all. They look disorientated, like they have lost their direction into the vastness of the landscape.I sometime feel they are trying to reach out to me, questioning their origin. Where can they grow roots, inside the deep ocean or under the hilly land? I am walking eastwards the sun is at my right hand side towards the endless Libyan sea. “I turn my head left the hush land, towards the Northern hemisphere to see you with my eyes closed, to imagine the morning coldness through the warmth of this evening ...hues of Prussian blue, orange, yellow, salmon pink, grey and violet blue. “ And hen I turn my head to the right towards the deep South where there is timeless hope. It is the heart of the winter and I can only imagine getting inside the waterbody and smell its salt.
It is getting darker and the moods are changing into green grey blue reflecting yellows, elements of turquoise and pale orange or brown, and a cerulean blue and white cloudy sky. Getting ready to say goodbye to tonight’s gentle sea with the silent but forever moving waves. So important not to feel alone at this moment in time, becoming one with the landscape, feeling humbled with it all.
Η μνήμη τον Οδυσσέα κυριαρχεί καθώς του βλέμμα χάνεται μέσα στην κίνηση των κυμάτων.
Small stories of naive poetry
Clouds passing by, then turning into more sky..
Sea waves coming and merging with the sand just to become water and then waves ... again. Mountains transforming into beasts when the sun shines brightly behind them, then returning into peaceful figures... Rivers running, creating new shapes made from new experiences, then becoming shapeless water... Animals walking and resting, talking and drinking, becoming other forms of life themselves, birds, insects or mammals. Human babies transforming to adults, seven stages of life, good and bad, beautiful and ugly and all together... A universe of billions stars creating new lives, just to become another universe... again.
Our Cosmos
Clouds passing by, then turning into more sky..
Sea waves coming and merging with the sand just to become water and then waves ... again. Mountains transforming into beasts when the sun shines brightly behind them, then returning into peaceful figures... Rivers running, creating new shapes made from new experiences, then becoming shapeless water... Animals walking and resting, talking and drinking, becoming other forms of life themselves, birds, insects or mammals. Human babies transforming to adults, seven stages of life, good and bad, beautiful and ugly and all together... A universe of billions stars creating new lives, just to become another universe... again.
Our Cosmos
Quotes
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
A Robin Redbreast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage.
—WILLIAM BLAKE , from "To See a World...", Auguries of Innocence
We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring. Will be to arrive where we started. And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, remembered gate…—T.S. ELIOT, from “Little Gidding” Four Quartets
Only love expands intelligence. To live with love is to accept the other and the conditions of his existence as a source of richness, not as opposition, restriction or limitation. —HUMBERT MATURANA
'Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest --LORD BYRON
It's fine to be in Crete, but only to gain momentum. In a few months' time I felt constricted again. The roads narrowed, my family home shrank, the marigolds in the yard lost their fragrance. Observing how my old friends had settled in, I was seized with terror. I vowed never to shut myself up inside the four walls of an office, never to come to terms with the good life, never to sign an agreement with necessity. I used to go down to the harbour and gaze at the sea. It seemed a doorway to freedom. Or to open it and flee! --KAZANTZAKIS, Report to Greco
Oh, only for so short a while you
have loaned us to each other,
because we take form in your act of drawing us,
and we take life in your painting us,
and we breathe in your singing us.
But only for so short a while
have you loaned us to each other.
Because even a drawing cut in obsidian fades,
and the green feathers, the crown feathers,
of the Quetzal bird lose their color,
and even the sounds of the waterfall
die out in the dry season.
So, we too, because only for a short while
have you loaned us to each other.
--AZTEC INDIAN PRAYER
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
A Robin Redbreast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage.
—WILLIAM BLAKE , from "To See a World...", Auguries of Innocence
We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring. Will be to arrive where we started. And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, remembered gate…—T.S. ELIOT, from “Little Gidding” Four Quartets
Only love expands intelligence. To live with love is to accept the other and the conditions of his existence as a source of richness, not as opposition, restriction or limitation. —HUMBERT MATURANA
'Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest --LORD BYRON
It's fine to be in Crete, but only to gain momentum. In a few months' time I felt constricted again. The roads narrowed, my family home shrank, the marigolds in the yard lost their fragrance. Observing how my old friends had settled in, I was seized with terror. I vowed never to shut myself up inside the four walls of an office, never to come to terms with the good life, never to sign an agreement with necessity. I used to go down to the harbour and gaze at the sea. It seemed a doorway to freedom. Or to open it and flee! --KAZANTZAKIS, Report to Greco
Oh, only for so short a while you
have loaned us to each other,
because we take form in your act of drawing us,
and we take life in your painting us,
and we breathe in your singing us.
But only for so short a while
have you loaned us to each other.
Because even a drawing cut in obsidian fades,
and the green feathers, the crown feathers,
of the Quetzal bird lose their color,
and even the sounds of the waterfall
die out in the dry season.
So, we too, because only for a short while
have you loaned us to each other.
--AZTEC INDIAN PRAYER