In my
Mardi Gras entry, I have published a painting by a Greek painter, Spyro Vassiliou. This brought to my mind some very tender memories that I'd like to share here.
In the early 1980s I spent a couple of summers in my aunt's house in a suburb of Athens. It was a leafy and pleasant place, known as a place of relaxation for the Romans, a modern day spa town, due, among other reasons, to its very healthy micro climate.
As I was ill quite often and wet climates were pronounced inappropriate, I was sent to that warm and dry climate to get my lungs to function properly, which, by the way, it very much did. Bless them Romans, they knew a thing or two about the good life!
It was a quiet place and I was quite free to do as I pleased. In one of my strolls around the old houses, I came down to a square with a kiosk selling newspapers, magazines, chewing gum and ice cream. Among the newspapers and magazines I was quite curious to leaf through, I found a magazine "for older children". Its name was
To Rodi, The Pomegranate, and despite its short life, it has made history in Greek publishing, as I found out years later. Some of the best writers of the time were contributing, the content was of the highest quality, introducing children to art, reading, travelling etc., and the artwork was exquisite.
To make a long story short, it became my companion. The stuff my dreams were made of. I went to the magazine's offices and bought all previous issues, bought a subscription to keep a piece of Greece with me, and one of those days, I decided to send them a painting. They had a whole spread dedicated to children's artwork, and some of the works published were fantastic. I was hesitant, because I had developed a rather personal style, looking at all things in cross section, and I was afraid that that was not the proper way to look at things. In the next issue my work was given pride of place. I was contacted by the magazine editors who asked me to join the panel, but what was more impressive was that my work was praised by the old white haired man who was figuring at the top of the page.
Little did I know at the time about the old man. Later on, and when my vacation had ended, I looked him up and I found out he was one of the most important painters and illustrators. His individual style was appreciated even by the more heavy guns, mainly modernist painters. But his work talked to my heart, and his paintings became for me a piece of Greece.
Here is some of his work.
This one is for the Greek National Tourist Organisation.
He illustrated the books of the best Greek writers.
If you want to learn more about this sweet, talented, giving human being, please visit
the official Spyros Vassiliou web site.
Uncle Spyro, as he wanted us to call him, is no longer with us, but his warm, loving presence has shaped my summers, and lit the first artistic flame in my heart.
Uncle Spiro, how can I ever say how grateful I am? Thank you.
