Sometimes when I’m first looking at a body of work (it has to be the very first time), I note whatever pops into my head. Sometimes I think that’s better than trying to flesh out and articulate my reaction to the work.

I’ve never seen work like this before. It feels like a children’s story. It feels like clothing, in texture and colors. Fabric-like. I think of glowing, a sheen, metal, paper cutouts, shadow puppets, something animated, another Greek artist, Petros Koublis.

The project is accompanied by a bit of text, included below.

I returned back to the same place. I felt lost.
Within a strange tranquillity, something destructive arose inside me.
I had sunk into a quiet desperation. I denied my past.
I tried a hundred times to erase my memory. I was craving change. Flowing into the night, I became a wild animal.
I confronted nature and death. I wanted to live. Feel every moment. Walk against the whistling wind. Breathe and dive into the cold sea. Harvest moon. Everything caught in the fire.
I walked with her in the blue dusk. Following my heartbeat.
I lapsed into a transformation, an unexpected alignment with the stars.

From the artist’s statement: “The Splitting of the Chrysalis & the Slow Unfolding of the Wings” arose from my unforeseen return to my homeland and my residence there for four years. Isolated in the countryside of the island, Ι was constantly confronted with my traumatic past, my memories and myself. Gradually, through wandering in nature, a conceivable field of action was created within me, an intermediate space full of transformative dynamics, a place of becoming. I surrendered to the fluidity of this space, to a paradoxical and cosmogenic ceremony. I was faced with the most enigmatic aspects of myself; I was searching for a new reality in which I would be able to exist. These photographs are part of a notebook, constructed through this experience, attempting to capture the cycle of an internal process of metamorphosis.

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