An umbrella or a constellation?


Hydra introduced me to light. I'll talk about it. The midday light of the summer, so bright that when it shines on the houses and the stone, it makes the textures and the small details disappear, highlighting the forms, the environment, their relationship with people. Looking at the Myrtoan Sea from the monastery of Prophet Elijah, with indigo blue as a persistant background, the formations of the currents that trench the sea, make the land seem even more still. In painting, I see the initial intention in people's faces: to convey the solid alternations of the light to them, as they are imprinted in thoughts and senses. The colours of the timeless harbour in Kamini are translated into runaways, the cruel midday into the "white face" of the fresh antithesis. The way from home to Vliho, following the path of the explorers of the island, is walked over up to the foothills of the woman's neck in the tango. When it rains, a carpet of countless dots covers the sea, as if an invisible herd pinches the sea's skin in order to be fed. In the background, behind Dokos, the first ray escapes from the cracks of the clouds that are thinning down, giving the impression that it weaves a path in the water for the journey home, I like to think of it like that. No TV or newspapers. No music for a while. This music score belongs to all of us and each of us. The night is moist, scattered puddles are trapped in the cobblestone streets of the island's beach. We sit down for a drink. Someone has left the financial section of the newspaper on the chair next to me. The night is thickening and the connection between light and shadow changes its clothes. The wires of the resting umbrellas are shining, they get tangled with the lights of the shops. Behind a glass of whiskey, I look at these small metallic fires that unite the cloth curves of the umbrella and I wonder: an umbrella or a constellation?


Antonis Tsakiris, 25.01.2012.