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Sikinos, part 1…

By on June 16, 2013 in beauty, Cyclades stone walls, Greece, hiking in the Cyclades, quiet islands, skill and craft, spiritual journey, spring in the Aegean

I arrived here yesterday, 15 June.  I checked into the Hotel Porto Sikinos (charming and comfortable) and knew that what I needed was a brisk walk and then a leap into the sea.  So I did that. Nothing too strenuous or out of control.  Then I cleaned up, i.e. took a shower, and rode the bus up the chasm that separates Alopronia (the port) from the Chora.  It is a 5 km drive up the winding road.  I was told there was a decent restaurant there.  I ordered saganaki tiri, fried potatoes, fried eggplant and lamb chops (paidakia).  It was pretty good but I know a lamb shoulder chop when I see it.  “Paidakia”, my ass.  OK.  That’s what I give the restaurant–an ‘OK’.  After a long day of travel I slept like a log and woke up around 8:30.  The breakfast at the hotel was quite good, and plentiful.  I skipped the bready things and ate the yogurt, boiled egg, both honeys, coffee and juice.  Today I was going to hike to Episkopi!  Yes, I did eventually get there, but it was adventure I am not eager to repeat.  My fault, by the way.  This is the rundown…

I chose a well-traveled path out of Alopronia up the Chora.  No real worries, but I strayed off at one point and had to bushwhack through the thorny underbrush and eventually backtrack 500m downhill to where I joined the track again.  I arrived in the Chora an hour later sopping with sweat.  I refueled with some orange soda and bought some more water at a café.  Good thing I did.  I would need it.

There are two ways to reach Episkopi. The first is along the paved road that leads directly to the place.  The other is a donkey track just off the paved road that also leads right to the ancient temple.  Of course I chose the donkey track, or so I thought.  What I chose was a different donkey track that mirrored, for a while at least, the one I currently trod.  So I hiked along, enjoying the view of the archipelago (Folegandros, Milos, Kimolos, Sifnos, Andiparos, Paros and Naxos). Beautiful.  Stunning.  Then the path began to narrow. Hmmm…I continued since it was not a problem.  Yet. Then as I was happily sauntering along I came around a corner and there was the fence.  Shit.  The path continued on the other side…I could see it.  Then I realized my mistake.  I should have gone back, it would have been easy enough, but no.  I decided to go up and around the fence, or so I hoped.  Long story short…

This led to a three-hour uphill, across ancient terraces, through thorns that would pierce leather (and my skin) trudge.  I was able to find short stretches of paths, more goat tracks than anything else.  Then they would disappear into a thorny mass.  At this point I was aware of two things:  I had not seen any goat droppings in a while and the foliage was becoming more and more wild.  The fig trees were small and dried out, crackling under my grip.  The olive groves were overgrown and unkempt, the trees stunted from the wind and unpruned.  My reading of Homer told me that I was far from civilization.  Oh yes…water…I had 1 full liter left.  I was becoming disheartened, but what choice did I have but to keep pushing up and, I hoped, reach the road which I knew was there, yet I could not see?   My excellent topo map gave me a pretty good idea where I was.  So I scrambled and clawed my way through the thorns as they tore my skin.  I climbed ancient terrace walls, carefully planting my feet and hands.  Should one collapse, I was finished.  No joke.  I was getting worried.  I began to remember what I had packed:  Water, two cameras, my Swiss Army knife, two sarong for padding for the cameras.   They were brightly colored.  I could wave them to get someone’s attention in the case of an emergency, but there was no one around.  I also had both my mobile phones.  I ran several conversations through my head…I prayed a lot.  Asked for all kinds of help:  just 20 more meters; just over this terrace; just a little more.  I was loath to drink my water.  Only a half liter remained.

At one point the underbrush thinned slightly and I saw a real path.  Stony, uneven, but going up and without  many thorn bushes.  Thank you, thank you…whoever.  I moved up.  I clambered over a small pile of stones and then I saw it:  the guard rail.  The road.  The blessed road.  Only 50 meters now…30…20…10 and I was up and out standing on glorious tarmac.  I have never been so happy to see pavement.  I looked to my left and there was Episkopi.  I made it.  The breeze was blowing.  I began to feel chills, a sign of many things, almost all bad.  I walked the 100 meters to the glorious and historical building, seeking shade.  I walked along the side and plopped down on a small bench out of the sun.  I dropped my pack, took off my shoes and socks, hung my soaked t-shirt on a wall to dry and took some deep breaths.  Grateful, I leaned against the cool stone of the former-temple-of-Apollo-turned-Byzantine-church and blissfully felt my core temperature drop.  I took out my watch.  It was 2:20.  Now to get back to the Chora and the port.  There is a large cistern at the site and I refilled my water bottles but I needed potassium, salt and more water.  Juices. Cold juices.  And bananas.  That’s what wanted.  But first some pictures.

I made it back, dear readers, yes, I made it back.  I have just counted the distance and I probably hiked a little over 12 km, the hard way.  Tomorrow I go to the beach and relax.  I will read my book, swim and let the antiseptic quality of the Aegean cure my lacerated limbs.  Then I will nap.  Tuesday I head to Folegandros.  I will be there for 5 days.  I am a lucky boy, in many ways.

thorns

Thorns that tore my flesh

JDCM

Episkopi

Episkopi

Sitting here in limbo, sort of…

By on June 15, 2013 in beauty, Cyclades stone walls, quiet islands, skill and craft, spring in the Aegean, working

I departed Amorgos this morning at 6AM.  3 1/2 hours later and I am on Naxos, with a four-hour layover until the Aqua Spirit arrives and takes me back south to Sikinos.  The sunrise over Amorgos was lovely, storm clouds glued to its high peaks.  I fell asleep as we left Iraklia.  I woke up sailing through the Parian/Naxian Straits.  Just in time to stretch, regain blood flow to my arms, grab my pack and head below decks to the loading ramp.  I have dumped my big bag in left-luggage, et voilà,  here I am…waiting for the next boat to arrive.  It feels odd, having to backtrack on my small journey and be within waving distance of my Parian home.  I am updating this missive in the ‘Captain’s Cafe’, a shady yet empty spot on the Port of Naxos.  I have eaten an omelet (etsi-ketsi)and feel refreshed after the early morning boat ride.

If I had a month I could not cover Amorgos.   With hundreds of kilometers of hiking trails, not to mention the off-trail possibilities, one could hike, climb, clamber, scramble, bushwhack and otherwise reconnoitre that Kykladic gem until the goats come home.  Yesterday I ended up on what I thought was an established trail, but then noticed that there were no markers or paint spots.  The way was clear, however, so I persevered.  The afternoon grew longer and I eventually turned back.  That is the beauty of goat tracks.  I could have walked for days on end and never been lost.

Amorgos is charmed in many respects.  There are three natural harbors big enough for larger vessels, and they have been long-established. No others exist on the island.  The coast is too treacherous.  I thought the terrain was too rocky and steep for an airport, but a café owner told me that there was a former WW 2 airbase that was, at one time, considered for the project.  The Dimos scrapped that idea due to lack of funds.  A small seaplane is supposed to begin service–who knows when?   So for the moment it is an island that, although accessible, still retains an element of remoteness.

I rented a small studio from Pension Georgia which was clean, new, just off the port and worth the 35 euros a night.  The advertised wi-fi wasn’t so strong but I ended up hanging out at the Akrogiali Cafe, just on the port.  Very strong connections, friendly atmosphere and excellent coffee.  They’re also open 24 hours on the weekends to accommodate the odd arrivals and departures of the various boat companies.

The food, per se, was very good, although I did have one dud meal at the Corner Taverna.  It wasn’t bad, just so-so.  I had a wonderful dinner at a small place in Katapola called ‘Kapetan Dimos’.  The chef takes traditional recipes and adjusts them subtly.  It made for a wonderful meal, different from standard taverna fare.  Interesting and very tasty variations on tzatziki, fava and patatate, a stew made from potatoes and goat spiced with cloves and allspice.  Next on the list was ‘El Greco’.  I ate there twice, actually.  Traditional Greek home cooking.  Anyone who knows me is aware that this is my favorite type of food in general.  Excellent kolokithokeftedes, taroma and merides.    The third place was ‘Viktoras’, a very non-descript but satisfactory grill house.  Tasty pork kontosouvli, grilled peppers and mezithra.  I wasn’t able to make it to any of the tavernas elsewhere on the island, but a friend told me there are some fabulous places in Kamari and Vroutsi.  Next time.  Amorgos warrants a few more visits.

So here I am, waiting once again for the next leg of the hop.  There is a small museum here in town which I’ll go visit before my 1PM boat.  The ‘Aqua Spirit’ is an older ferry and travels at half the speed of the big Blue Star craft.  I will read my spy novel, snooze and  watch the islands slip by on Homer’s wine dark sea.

JDCM

View from a hike on Amorgos

View from a hike on Amorgos

View from a hike on Amorgos

Another view from a hike on Amorgos

Amorgos, part 2…

By on June 12, 2013 in beauty, Cyclades stone walls, Greece, rangefinder camera, silver darkroom, skill and craft, spiritual journey, spring in the Aegean, working

It has been a wonderful day here on the rugged and wild island of Amorgos, on the southeastern edge of the Kyklades.   I picked up a book yesterday which detailed the history of the place and it filled in many gaps.  One interesting tidbit is that geologically Amorgos has more in common with the island of Samos than the other Kyklades.   It is as if it split from the Dodecanese millenia ago and drifted west.

I spent the day exploring the remote western end of the island and I was grateful I rented a car.  It seems that the Dimos (town council) has cancelled all bus services to that area due to lack of funding.  They have suspended service in the high season of July/August as well.  This was good for me, in a way, since there was no one around and I had the place all to myself.  I suppose it will be good for the car rental agencies too.  In any case, I was able to hike, find some nice little coves to swim in and photograph some more walls.  I  sat in the Kykladic structure of Markiani, photographed the mouldering stones outlining the ancient settlement and mused on the idea that people have lived here since the 3rd millenium B.C.  Even then it was good place to be.  Below me, after a near-vertical drop of 1700 meters, the sea crashed against the rugged cliffs, endlessly grinding stone into sand.

I have managed to shoot two full rolls of film since I have been here and I ran out this afternoon just after the above mentioned archeological site.  So that makes it three.  I will return tomorrow for more hiking, more photography and lunch at a nice little taverna recommended by a friend. I have added some photos.  One is a detail of a 4th century B.C. tower in the small town of Vroutsi: free admission, no tourists and no rope lines.  The young man at the gate even gave me a free booklet with information.  Perfect.

JDCM

Classical era stone tower Near Vroutsi, Amorgos.

Detail of the 4th c. B.C. stone tower Near Vroutsi, Amorgos.

Stone walls, juniper and thyme.

Stone walls, juniper and thyme.

 

Amorgos, part 1…

By on June 11, 2013 in beauty, Cyclades stone walls, Greece, quiet islands, skill and craft, spiritual journey, spring in the Aegean, working

I arrived on the somewhat remote island of Amorgos yesterday morning at three-thirty in the morning after a 10.5 hour ferry ride from Pireaus.  I say ‘somewhat remote’ only because it is not like the tourist destinations of Paros, Aegina, Naxos or Santorini.  There are tourists here, this is true, but they are mostly small groups of sailboats cruising the Aegean, en route to other parts.  It is too far from the other islands to make it worth a day trip and the beaches, although lovely, are not as accessible as in other parts of the Kyklades.  It is a rugged place, looking in parts much like its larger neighbors Naxos and Ios.  In the higher elevations there is still a fair amount of greenery and the goats here wander freely along the roads.   It is place for hikers and ramblers and I have had two good hikes already.  Detailed topo maps exist so I won’t bore anyone with too many details, but this place is not for the lazy or uninspired.   The trailheads are easy to find but can quickly shift from an easy walk to some serious bouldering if one is so inclined.  I have already found myself in tough spots, having to remember the ‘three points on the rock’ maxim, a rule that has saved my bacon more than once.   My hiking has led me to some of the more lovely, isolated beaches this island has to offer.

My lodging is clean and comfortable and I have rented a FIAT Panda to make transit easier.  The island is long, about 25 km, so waiting around for the bus is not for me.  I am here for another three days and then I head to SiAmorgos stone wallskinos, a place even more remote.  Hmmm…I have more to say, certainly, but not now.  I will sit here in the Akrogiali Cafe, enjoying my espresso freddo metreo.  I’ll add more in Part 2, including pictures.  I have included a b/w image of some walls running along a hillside, a favorite subject.

JDCM

Hello…goodbye…goodbye…hello…

By on June 7, 2013 in beauty, craft, Cyclades stone walls, Greece, Paros, quiet islands, skill and craft, spiritual journey, spring in the Aegean, working

I attended a conference of like-minded individuals a few years ago.  It was an exhilarating weekend of sun, new friends, laughter and earnest conversations that ran deep into the night.  When I departed I felt strangely disconnected, as if something was missing.  I felt as if I had not met enough people.  After I spoke to a close friend about this they assured me that this was natural and that I would soon come back down to Earth.  It wasn’t until the next event that I understood: I had not met enough people.  The truth is that one can never meet everybody.  The reverse is true as well.  One can never say goodbye to everyone.  This realization hit me last week when I discovered that some students from the Aegean Center were flying from Paros rather than taking the ferry.  I would have liked to send them off at the port.  Call me a traditionalist, but I will choose the boat over the plane any day.  That’s just my way.  I am no hurry here in Greece.  Unless there is a dire emergency that demands my being in Athens in 30 minutes, I’ll pay half the price and slip past the islands on Homer’s wine dark sea en route to Piraeus.

So I am in Athens for a few days, as you might have guessed.  I have brought my 22 4×5 portraits to a framer to be matted and framed and put behind glass.  He has quoted me an excellent price for the lot, half of my estimate.  If I had to do this in America it would have triple what he is charging me, for the same materials.  He will ship them back to Paros at the beginning of August, in plenty of time for my August 18th opening.

I will visit some friends, check in at a couple of museums and then on Sunday take the long, slow boat back south, past Paros and on to Amorgos.  I will take two weeks off and hop around the Kyklades a bit: Amorgos, Sikinos and Folegandros.  This means beaches, stone walls, hiking and very few tourists this time of year.  I am bringing few clothes other than shorts, T-shirts, hiking boots, my towel and a couple of hats.  Most of my luggage is camera equipment, both film and digital.  I have a few books and a watercolor set, some pencils…

I’ll update from Amorgos…

Teaching and craft…

By on May 26, 2013 in beauty, craft, darkroom work, Greece, Paros, silver darkroom, skill and craft, spiritual journey, spring in the Aegean, working

There is less than a week until our student exhibit at the Aegean Center for the Fine Arts here on Paros.   It has been a busy three months for most.  Like all previous sessions there is always one or two students who fall away.  This spring has been no different.  One student left and returned home a few weeks ago.  Another has stayed here but has followed a different path from those found on our artistic maps.  So be it.  There is nothing I can do about either case.  I will say, in my own defense, that I was there for both of them in a professional capacity when they needed me and,  in the beginning, helped to guide them through some of our philosophies.  Their individual decisions to take different routes has no bearing on the Center, the teachers or my own labors.

This spring I was given the honor of filling in as Silver Darkroom instructor.  This is not a post I assume to be permanent.  All teachers learn that their own skills, craft and knowledge increase when they pass on what they know to others.  This has been my experience as well.  I have learned more about the art and craft of photography in three months than I thought possible.  It was knowledge that I had already accrued so to give it away freely only strengthened my own foundations.   It was not  review or regurgitation.  I found myself solving problems and asking questions of myself from a new point of view.  One important lesson is to be able to say “I don’t know.  Let’s find the answer together.”  What freedom to not suppose, to not be a fake!

There is an ethos to teaching.  It is not enough to greet the student, spend a few hours or days, and then set them free.  That would be tantamount to showing them a map and telling them to drive to California from New York without first discussing the possible roads west.  As the more experienced traveler it is important to guide these eager minds along the way.  Yes, let them take a wrong turn, experience a sudden detour or two and even run out of fuel, but do not abandon them in the badlands of inexperience.  Let them know that you are there, waiting up ahead at the next marker or traveling alongside.  I have practiced this and it has paid off.  I have gained a level of patience and understanding by remaining available.  I have set up appointments and answered their questions to the best of my abilities, abilities which have grown over the course of three months.  To some this may seem a sacrifice of my own personal time, my own independence.  It is quite the opposite.   I have never felt so free, so happy and, at times, so completely baffled.  At that point I turn to someone more knowledgable than myself.  Such is the nature of education, or it should be.

There is a quote from George Bernhard Shaw: “Those who can, do…those who can’t, teach.”  I must admit that I have found this to be very untrue and can only believe that GBS had his head (beard and all) deeply imbedded in his anus when he thought it up.  The quote should be “Those who can, teach.”    Learning is a cycle:  Practice>Teach>Learn>Practice>Teach>Learn>Practice>Teach>Learn…

Ralph Waldo Emerson had a better idea:

“Be an opener of doors for such as come after thee.”

JDCM

Space and the end of Easter…

By on May 12, 2013 in beauty, Cyclades stone walls, Paroikia, Paros, quiet islands, rangefinder camera, skill and craft, spring in the Aegean, working

I just helped a friend board the Blue Star ferry ‘Delos’, en route to Pireaus.  It is Sunday evening, May 12, on Paros and the Easter season has ended…finally!  The smell of lamb fat has rinsed from my hands, the out-of-towners are returning to their homes and the island is quieting down.  I was shocked by the crowds already on board the ‘Delos’ as well as those embarking.  Hordes.  Masses.  All with rolling luggage dragging behind them, seemingly forgotten in some small dusty corner of their minds.  Passive traveling at its worst.  Why is it that we forget about the items directly behind us and we tend to lead with memories from so long ago ahead as if they are current events? Hmmm…

On the other hand, the Aegean Center students enjoyed a lovely day out at sea with Captain Tassos and his crew for our spring “Boat Trip”, a somewhat circular route around Andiparos, stopping at Despotiko, then Taverna Zombos on the southern side of Andiparos for a mid-afternoon feast: gigantes, kolokithokeftedes, bean salad, xoriatiko salate, calamari, oktopodi salate, saganaki tiri…a true food event.  I needed some space, some time alone so I stayed back at the school and worked on my current painting, a view from a balcony overlooking a small courtyard adjacent to the school.  I had three hours of quiet for this and I managed to work very well, very hard and productively in that short span. Then I hopped in my trusty FIAT Panda, drove to the Andiparos ferry, went over, swam  at both Livadia and Agios Giorgos beaches, took some pictures (film and digital) and met up with the rest of the school for the above-mentioned meal.  Orea!

Here is an image from today.  A view of Andiparos–Leica M8, Voigtlander 28mm, ISO 160, F/16, 1/125, hyperfocus…clouds and wires

Some walls, a lamp,  sea, sky, clouds.  Enjoy!

JDCM

Greek Easter, Paros, 2013…

By on May 3, 2013 in beauty, craft, darkroom work, Greece, Paros, quiet islands, skill and craft, spiritual journey, spring in the Aegean, Uncategorized, working

There was a time before my time, before the time of my sisters, my parents, my friends…

For some reason this phrase popped in to my head today.  For the past few days I have been helping a friend and mentor and her husband move house.  It has been an emotional and difficult time for them and I have been honored and humbled to help sort through decades of their life here on Paros, and earlier.  We have been separating the wheat from the chaff–a difficult process.

Much of what they wished to save has been in the form of photographs, or more precisely, photographic archives.  That is the only way to think of it.  Negatives of all sizes, black and white, color, contact sheets, prints.  Their time here has been documented and preserved in hard-copy.  There was little  digital imagery.  As I worked I felt something meaningful, truly palpable, while holding a negative up to the light, perusing a contact sheet or carrying an artist’s portfolio bursting with prints.  Compared to the lightweight, back-lit digital medium that takes up little space and weighs all but nothing, these items, this archive, made sense to me.  Maybe those of us in the digital age have become so accustomed to the ease with which we view, and then delete, images, or page through them via myriad viewing software programs that we are beginning to forget the importance of this process.

My point is that memory, that elusive, ever-changing spirit we carry in our soul, is something that should have weight.  It should take up space in our homes.  We should, every once in a while, take a photo album or box of negatives off the shelf, dust them off and hold them up to the light of day.  As we gaze, we smile.  We remember friends long gone or vistas experienced in a way that we cannot when looking at an LED screen or something of that nature.  We smile, or we cry.  We tell a friend, “Look…here…this is when we…” and then hand them the fragile transparency or piece of paper.  We pass on wheatthat experience.

We are all repositories of the past.  This brings me back to the idea that there was once a time before my time, before the time of those who came before me.  I have books as proof, books I can hold.  I have folders full of negatives, unprinted.  I am accumulating weight in the form of artists portfolios stuffed with prints.   I have held them up to the light of day.  I say, “Look…here…This is when I…

Happy Easter!

JDCM

 

News from Paros…a journey of small bites…

By on March 10, 2013 in 4×5 photography, beauty, craft, Cyclades stone walls, darkroom work, Greece, Paroikia, Paros, quiet islands, skill and craft, spiritual journey, spring in the Aegean, Uncategorized, working
Lupens blooming along the path to the monastery of Agios Kyriaki

Lupens blooming along the path to the monastery of Agios Kyriaki

The first week of the spring 2013 session at the Aegean Center has all but ended.  As I sit in Pebble’s Jazz Cafe, overlooking the bay of Paroikia, the sun begins a slow descent towards the faint outline of Sifnos to my west.  Since my return at the end of January the sunset has moved slowly north along the ridge of that island, the daylight has increased and the temperature has become warmer.  There have been welcome harbingers of a lovely spring: warm, breezy with high clouds and only sprinklings of rain, barely enough to dampen my laundry hung out to dry, birds singing in the bright morning…

My work for the next few months has been laid out for me, a buffet of grand proportions.  My own large-format portrait work, which I have written about before, takes priority if I wish to have the printing finished by the end of May and the work at the framers by June.  This is the beginning-of-the-end of a long-term project, the seeds of which I planted during  the winter of 2011/2012.  I have two or three more sittings to arrange and then I can begin crossing tasks off the list.

I am also teaching in the darkroom, guiding the bright and eager minds of our small cadre along the meditative paths of silver photography.  I have been impressed in this first week by their enthusiasm, previous experience and general attitude towards the idea of ‘slow photography’.  I can only hope that they, too, feel as if I am an able mentor for their journey.  There are two or three returning students working on the darkroom, which benefits everyone.

The third element is my return to oil painting.  I loved it the first time last spring and this time around seems no different.  Just today I was working on a piece and I was struck by how much I love oils: their malleability and fluidity, the ability to push them around on a properly prepared canvas…

The fourth menu item this session is a fascinating journey into the world of Johannes Vermeer, more precisely his use of the camera obscura in his work.  There are three of us working with Jane Pack and in the next few weeks we will construct a full-scale replica of the master painter’s  camera, discover how he applied it and use it ourselves to draw, and then paint, some still lives.

When I realized a few days ago the scope of the labors set before me, my heart and mind quaked.  I quickly spoke to an advisor which helped.  I know that I can accomplish all of these things, but like a plate of food at the above mentioned buffet, this kind of smorgasbord can seem impossible to consume.  Like any dinner, it starts with the first bite.   Before I know it will be the end of May and I will be ordering coffee and dessert.

JDCM