PERIPATETIC NOTES (ongoing since 1998)

Peripatetics revolves around experiential, direct, non-conceptual photography. It is somehow the quiet side of urban or landscape photography during which attention is given primarily to the state of mind and not to the hunting of exceptional phenomena. This internalisation of attention brings a more sober & poetic reading of reality. It is a detached way of making more intimate images open to interpretations. You create or inhabit a non-familiar space that, through the act of walking, metamorphoses it to a 'home', but open it also towards a political gesture, towards the sublime.

I started off at the beginning of my approach two decades ago, to embrace Athens in 1998, my city, neither for what I wanted it to be but for what it is and eluded me. This endeavour in time turned into a prelude to learning about justice, and established itself as one first step in an act of resistance,

Peripatetics is also about time and notes on the human body in movement or in awaiting, in his life journey towards oblivion.


I walked, walked and still walk...

Walking is the mother of all migrations.
Man before even beginning to combine action to word, starts on his feet.
Walking reminds us of what gave us our civilisations.
Simple and complex simultaneously, walking certifies that life begins somehow as a human adventure, around the age of one.
The quest for an unattainable return home and an impossible harmony motivates the walker - pilgrim.
Walking is a process and a pretext for introspection. Between first steps and travels around the world, there is a major one step that allows you to cross the boundaries of life. It's also a form of placing History in the space of an experiential education.

Lonely form of resilience, not without nostalgia, walking is always a step towards the Other, and the foreigner in us. It’s an encounter that requires an effort. It is a therapy, both physical and psychological.
In the effort of walking one escapes the very idea of identity, the temptation to be someone, to have a name and a history.
This new form of freedom lies in not being anyone; for the walking body has no history, it is just an eddy in the stream of immemorial life. Forgetting oneself would begin with deliberately cultivating solitude and forgetting. It would acknowledge that all labour spent on the self is potentially displacement activity, wasted energy. And with that effort conserved, some sort of great work could be done.
The reveries of Rousseau, the writings of Rimbaud and then of Stevenson, Thoreau, Benjamin, Walser, Sebald and so many others encourage us, when reading them, to put on our shoes and walk.
To our joy and our health, walking is a form of defiance of speed and noise, increases curiosity, encourages humility, causing meditation. It invites us to contemplate, be silent and listen better.