There’s a store selling t-shirts in Monastiraki Square, just down the road from what remains of Hadrian’s Library. It’s a short walk through central Athens from the sun-baked ruins to the shopfront; from the mass of ancient columns to a mess of racks sporting tourist keychains, singlets and baseball caps. We were there on a warm afternoon. The owner was funny in a vaguely rude sort of way, and had an alcohol on his breath that we couldn’t place. I bought three t-shirts to remember the day, only to be accused of stealing as we left. Nothing came of it.
We went through our finds later that evening—my friend showing off a simple white tee emblazoned with exaggerated Greek script in black. It was a quote attributed to Niko Kazantzakis, the much-translated Cretan writer. Whenever she wore it throughout the remainder of the trip, we’d attract smiles, stares and even laughter from the locals. It was only when we were back from our vacation that I asked a friend’s γιαγιά for the translation: “I am not changing, I am not afraid of anything, I am free.” We laughed then, too.
In Greece, παρέα refers to the company of friends; to cultivating your quality of life together. It’s a pervasive, everyday value—something you notice from the mainland to the islands, in Αθήνα, Νάουσα and Σύρος alike. In some ways it feels like the ultimate metric for “success”. Whispering kids bustle onto the local ferry while old lovers look on from the bleached chairs of a seaside café. Jostling and joke-telling and arguing and hand-holding in the sun. These scenes are unchanging. Seventies buildings fall apart in ancient cities. A woman chases after a flock of ducks for little more than her own enjoyment (and mine). It’s self-enrichment unbothered by dysfunction; proud of it, even.
This work is made in that spirit. A small tribute to a generous ethos far removed from my typical surroundings. These are pictures of meeting points and in-between moments—sites of friendship, (missed) connection and silent contemplation. These spaces signify community even when they're empty. They approximate a kind of freedom, unafraid of anything.