Forty steps, 40 memories, 40 shades, 40 hours, 40 days, 40 months, 40 years, 40 moments, 40 fractions of a second, 40 times of soul-searching. “40” the hand painting on the sand. Forty moments of searching, struggling, expressing, creating. Forty centuries of confrontation. With the inner self. With endurance. With existence. With communication. Forty years of wandering in familiar places. Points of reference. Hackneyed landscapes. Trivial. But also, unknown. I struggled with them forty times. I tried to tame their imperfections. To illuminate them differently. In my own special way. I decorated them with poems of the soul. I surrounded them with the play of time. I dressed them in the black and white shade of colours. I took them to faraway places. Renowned. Unique. With their own unparalleled story. I brought them back to the place where they were born. To the landscapes of everyday life. To the walk of the waves. To the vessels of the sea. To the house of Mother Earth. “40” times of soul-searching. On a piece of paper. On a canvas. On a picture on the wall. With a painting in front of the forgotten branch. On the sandy beach of Limassol. Fighting with the waves. With the removal of the tones. Of the colours. Of the contrasts. Which is transformed into a black and white photo. In an exhibition – a book without content.
