Thursday, October 29, 2009

this morning's reflections


Since I was little I saw reflecting images taking a mythical dimension, evoking worlds from fairy tales I had either heard, or I had made up before going to sleep. Depending on the available light I saw these reflections belonging to either happy worlds, or scary, hard and dark situations worlds. This reflection belongs to the "lived happily ever after" story book, and it's all too real. In my morning "getting lost following the different canals" walk, I got totally pulled by the magic of light and color dancing on the surface of the never ending water paths of Haarlem... This magical dance is now all mine; a recorded treasure in the form of digital images that I know I will be looking over and over again, revisiting these happy encounters and drawing inspiration for the beginning of future works!

Saturday, October 24, 2009

and now rain...


Yes it's raining; and raining, and raining, and raining... It's the kind that you don't hear, you almost don't even see; the misty kind, the million per square millimeter spraying droplets kind, the penetrating to the bones kind, the one that makes you truly feel the autumn entering all your senses in this silent, colorless, still way. And it's also Saturday: the day I was planning to go and photograph some outdoor markets full of colors, noise and smells.
Oh well, this is the normal weather in this part of the world and once you accept it, the next step should be to act as norm as possible! Therefore... I need for sure to follow the planned schedule, enter this gray cold misty rainy world outside, accept it and become part of it!
So, off I go for my rainy Saturday noon walk-about in Haarlem!

Friday, October 23, 2009

yesterday's sun, today's fog...




Hard to believe how different autumn feels from one day to the next. Justified difference perhaps when you consider that yesterday's blue sky and sun bathed ancient monument is in Athens, Greece, while today's densely fog covered green is in Haarlem, Holland.
I've spent the last two weeks in Greece visiting family, celebrating a nephew's wedding, revisiting situations and memories still unsolved and feeling longings for loved ones sadly gone... Regardless the sadness that this type of return most often has, I believe that the memory of the last two weeks' visit in my hometown eventually will be shaped by the joy and promise of the new start that marriage symbolizes and the bright light of Attica's warm autumn sun.
And now, in the quiet stillness of this cold afternoon, I need to rethink and recap some whys, some hows some whens, and also find a way to unwind. I plan to use these next two weeks in this highly inspiring for me environment to do just that, and hope to move again towards the challenging road of understanding and accepting without further postponing questions...

Friday, October 2, 2009

the story behind the young girl...

... on that old photograph.
Everything I make is usually influenced by a "story"; sometimes the inspiration is generated by the story, other times the resulting sentiments take me to a direction that in the process the starting point becomes unrecognizable, perhaps lost or totally forgotten. Of course there is also the unexpected and unplanned wave of creative inspiration that usually in inexplicable and unexpected ways translates into a work that generates more starting points for further artistic investigation. In this case it's the actual story who came to life and in a direct way demanded from me a certain documentation. And I responded by creating this latest work in a form of a concertina structure book using monoprints with the image digitally generated and color altered for this purpose.
The photo of this young girl belongs to a great aunt of mine, long gone. I remember her as a very old woman, dressed in black, smiling with my dance performances choreographed by my sisters for the occasion of her visit . Growing up I learned more and more about her and her rather sad, shadowed by tragedies life. The photo of her as a little girl intrigues me. It's almost like trying to tell me something, ask me of something, almost pleading. She was always dressed in black and this in my mind represented her "black" (dark) life. So in this book I gave her a life of colors and I used a few simple sentences handwritten also in color to document the existence of her photo, of her life and of this book:


Her name was Fotini.
She grew up, she fell in love, she had children.
I've heard talk about dark times; I've also heard tales of goodness.
Her life was hard, bleak, difficult.
Now she is gone, her life... done.
So many years later this old photo is here with me.
Related Posts with Thumbnails