Archive | spiritual journey

Sikinos, part 1…

By John 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 that tore my flesh

JDCM

Episkopi

Amorgos, part 2…

By John 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.

Amorgos, part 1…

By John 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 Sikinos, 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 John 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 John 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

Greek Easter, Paros, 2013…

By John 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 that 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 John 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

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

Spring unfolds at the Aegean Center for the Fine Arts…

By John on March 4, 2013 in autumn, craft, darkroom work, Greece, Paroikia, Paros, silver darkroom, skill and craft, spiritual journey, spring in the Aegean, Uncategorized, working

The spring session has begun here on Paros at the Aegean Center. The students have mostly all arrived, riding in on the winds and waves. It poured rain all day yesterday and the streets turned into small rivers. By last night the clouds had rolled away and today is sunny and bright. I have many thoughts running through my head, so many raindrops, really, and in many cases just as discarnate. Add them up, however, and they are a flood, a river of their own. I found it comforting to stop thinking. I loaded up some Plus-X, grabbed my tripod and headed down the now undimmed streets of Paroikia. Action, not thinking, always improves my day.

I will be painting again this session. I will also apply the finishing touches on a large format photography project that I began last year, a series of portraits of people I know here on Paros. They are students, ex-pats, local Parians…My Greek barber, Nikos, for instance, as well as the English owner of a local cafe. A motley crew to be sure. I will finish the principle photography and printing in the next three months, bring all the final proofs to Athens and have them matted and framed. I hope to accomplish this before the end of June when I head back to America for a month. When I return in August I will hang the show and open the exhibit. It will be the culmination of my work here at the Center, my Masters Thesis in Photography, if you will. I have no idea where the show will be. I’ll stick my neck out again. So far that hasn’t been the most successful venture here on Paros. I have lost my head more times than not (certainly gaining wisdom) but what choice do I have? “Action and more action…”, as they say…What follows my exhibition is anyone’s guess. I suddenly feel lost at sea with the prospect of September.

I will be assisting again in the darkroom with the students, as I did last fall, so my energies will be focused on their work more than my own. Like the weather moving in circles, alternating rain, sun wind and calm, the Aegean Center is part of the cycle of change. I cannot do much except sit back and trust the process, let the story write itself and accept the results. Once again, to assume anything would be foolish, self-serving and arrogant. As of this morning I am excited to work with five or six (maybe seven) students, some who have never handled silver emulsion and some with more knowledge. We shall see how the session evolves. I remember having many preconceived notions of photography when I arrived here on Paros three years ago. They were soon dashed in favor of a new and vibrant dynamic. As a lotus blossom, spring unfolds…

JDCM

Guidance, delineation and communication…

By John on February 8, 2013 in beauty, craft, Cyclades stone walls, Greece, Paroikia, Paros, quiet islands, rangefinder camera, skill and craft, spiritual journey, spring in the Aegean, working

It began with lamp posts in 2005. There was a quayside in Ermioni, a boat on dry dock and an ornate iron lamp post looking out over the still water at sunset. Then there were more lamp posts in Bosnia, arcing around the gentle curve of a mountain road, leading to where…?

Now there are stone walls climbing and moving across the landscape of the Kyklades. They have been accompanied by electrical poles, maybe telephone lines, I am not sure…

I have been photographing them for the past few years, mixed in with all the rest. Driving back from an area here on Paros the other day I was struck by how these all are indications of the hand of man in an otherwise wild landscape. I have a choice. I can bemoan the state of affairs regarding these structures or embrace them as something more, strong vertical and horizontal lines, shadows of human needs. I have thought of lamp posts as bringers of light in the darkness, guidance along dim roads. The stone walls define our boundaries, of both self and property, for they are often too insignificant to keep any creature at bay. The poles signify communication over distances. Guidance, delineation and communication. I would post some examples, but I feel that everyone has an idea of what I am speaking of without the illustrations.

It is raining here. Last night the deluge dropped a hail of roaring ice in Paroikia. It woke me at 4AM. It also deposited all the red, sandy dust that has been blowing from the south, out of the deserts of North Africa. This is the scirocco. The air was clear this morning and as I drove south to visit some friends for coffee I marveled at the archipelago surrounding me: Sifnos, Serifos, Sikonos, Ios, Kimolos, Syros, Tinos, Andiparos…rugged walls ran through green hills, telephone lines stretched thinly into the blue distance and, even though the sun was bright, my heart was gladdened to see the occasional unlit streetlight along my path. If I came this way on a dark and stormy night I would not become lost in the tempest.

JDCM

Parian viewpoint…

By John on January 29, 2013 in craft, darkroom work, Greece, Paros, quiet islands, rangefinder camera, silver darkroom, skill and craft, spiritual journey, spring in the Aegean, Uncategorized, working

I returned to Greece last Friday and after a long and uneventful journey I found myself at the “Eleftherios Venizelos” airport, the gateway to Greece. It was quiet at 16:40 hours on a Saturday. Aside from my Aegean Air flight, there was only one other craft that seemed to be in use, a KLM A320 parked at the terminal. This speaks to both the slower winter season and the decision for other airline companies to curtail their schedules into this country, a nation hit hard by both the global economic crisis and a media-fed-fear of governmental instability. While the economics are true, the other claim holds no water. This is a land of change and transition and so many people are preferring to sit on the sidelines and watch the drama unfold.

It was raining and the skies were lead-grey. I hailed a taxi and as we headed towards the city I was struck by how green everything had become since my departure in December. The traditional music coming out of the small radio made my heart melt and run like the rain. As we sped along the motorway, the driver handed me an orange. “From my garden–this morning”, he said.

Change is a difficult stage of life for any organism, whether it is a country or an individual. The best course of action is to change the dynamic. When an old path isn’t working, one does not stay on the same road and travel with more verve. One takes a turn at the next crossing, thus expanding the journey. If one has a philosophy that is dear, it is important to keep this philosophy as a compass and at the same time open up prospects for new and exciting ways to implement the fundamentals. 12 years ago I grew weary of the career in which I had been laboring. Instead of finding a new niche within that limited community I shifted gears and turned off the main road and connected with a new highway. Now I am in Greece, practicing my skills and craft in photography. The remnants of the old ways are gone, leaving only memories and an ability to create this marvelous dish. I can only offer advice based on my own experiences. When something isn’t working, get out of the way and take a new road. After all, change is the only true constant in the Universe. Photography is the same. There are so many variables within the craft, especially with the added tools of the digital medium. It would be foolish and arrogant to discount them in an attempt to hold onto some mythological idea.

Speaking of that, I had a change of heart recently regarding the noted photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson. When he said, “In order to give meaning to the world, one has to feel oneself involved in what he frames. This attitude requires concentration, a discipline of mind, sensitivity, and a sense of geometry” I have to applaud. I agree wholeheartedly but it was disappointing to watch the documentary, ‘The Impassioned Eye’ . This film revealed that he cared little for, and avoided at all costs, the developing of his film and printing of his images, a part of the journey that I feel is so important to the photographic life. I believe that he was little more than a guy with a camera in the right place at the right time. A small bubble has burst, but a bubble nonetheless. Now I am a little more free than I was. Change is good and necessary. Change is essential.

A view of Agios Phokas, Paros.

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