Throughout my photographic career, while working on assignments and personal projects, I have experienced a myriad of situations which have resulted in feelings that have both influenced and inspired me as a photographer but most importantly as a human being. Today provided a great example, but I will get to that in a moment. I would like to start this conversation by sharing what has always been of great interest to me...the story of the photograph in conjunction with the story of the photographer. I consider these two elements to be inseparable and the individual peculiarities determine the outcome. Some find this to be irrelevant and believe the photograph speaks for itself, but it doesn’t, really. When I buy photo books, I am always eager to read the introduction, the essays, the photographer’s narrative and their absence for me is like a Mustang without an engine. I’m left wanting to know more about how the photographer got there, what the place or moment meant to them and how it affected them, if at all.
“Eli”, Work in Progress, Athens, Greece, March 2021.
The moments that affect us are the ones that compel us to reconsider our values, our daily activities, and what matters the most, to discover the substance and core vain of life. As humans, whether we want to admit it or not, we constantly complain. We grumble about work, money, relationships and politics. Andrea and Rania’s parents don’t complain, and even if they did, they have every right in doing so in order to escape their own reality, that of losing a child. I have never met the parents of Andrea and Rania but today when the road took me to the western neighborhoods of Athens, I met Eli, the caretaker of a cemetery. Upon entering and immediately near the entrance, I witnessed a significantly large area the size of a basketball court full of children's graves. I wanted to take photos but I was both shocked and hesitant considering what was before me. I noticed Eli and I thought it would be proper to introduce myself and while I was approaching her she politely asked, “are you holding a camera?” I was and started to explain the reason for being there while presenting my official papers in hopes she would feel more comfortable knowing my intentions and give me permission to photograph. To my surprise, she let me photograph and continued to accompany me, which was most welcomed.
We spent almost an hour talking about the history of the cemetery, and about life. As we both navigated through the corridors of permanent loss, memory, and love, what was astonishing to me was the in-depth knowledge Eli had about the place. She hadn’t worked there long but she was knowledgeable about the “histories'' of each grave, especially those of children. She spoke about each child practically as if she knew them when they were still alive and making this world a better place. Almost methodically, during our walking conversations, she would start telling me other children's names, Giorgos, Evangelos, etc., and their past condition. She did this as if she wanted to bring their attention to the visitor, to become alive again through her, and through our words. “People come here and they want to talk, share, and try to forget'', she said, referring to the parents and loved ones visiting the graves.
“Rania”, Work in Progress, Athens, Greece, March 2021.
“Andreas”, Work in Progress, Athens, Greece, March 2021.
Throughout my photographic career I have considered many occurrences to be an educational experience and today was no different. There I was, riding the Metro towards western Athens with a bunch of socially disoriented masked Athenians, including myself, an hour before meeting Eli. My mind was occupied with irrelevant and superficial thoughts and concerns, just like most of us do on a daily basis. Even the act of photographing has been questioned throughout the years but it’s moments like these that keep me going. I value, cherish, and need them as one who suffocates needs oxygen in order to survive; it keeps me going and helps me become a better person by attempting to relate to both fellow humans and the land even by association. And that’s what it’s really all about, the amalgamation that unites us all regardless of our different paths; if there are really any different paths at all...