The Art of Being Happy

Peleus and Thetis, the parents of Achilles

Written on 20th of November, 2014

The art, in most cases, feeds on unhappiness....artists are so unhappy, that they create the masterpieces which bleed with sublime feelings they experienced.

And here is my dilemma:
I cannot work when I am unhappy. I live my unhappiness, analyze it, feel it, and cannot work, cannot do anything...I am  "la petite bourgeoise" in many ways. In my everyday life everything has to be balanced: my house has to be spotless, otherwise I become very nervous, my children happy and clean, Maria happy, and of course I cannot forget the man I love. He is my only connection with the real world: a messenger of reality, a walking wisdom with great sense of humor and abdominal muscles any Ancient Spartan would be proud of... I love being married to him, taking care of him...spoil him...

This is also very untypical for an artist, because, artists usually grow their EGO to the point that nobody else fits in the space near by ...So artists are usually getting married for a five minutes, and then say to the world that they made mistake...It wasn't the person they were looking for, they were looking for someone who would admire them all the time, and they found a person who dared to be a person...

Artists don't like marriages that much, so in this regard, I am also not typical, I do like being married....It is this Greek thing I have...We, Greeks, we love to immerse ourselves in deep unlimited togetherness, and taste another Greek soul again and again...

But... there were some artist who enjoyed marriage and did not have any problems to create masterpieces. Not all the artists were sick, alone and dying in poverty, like Modigliani. Johann Sebastian Bach was quite happy in his marriage, so was the great poet Pablo Neruda. He had written the most beautiful love sonnets in the end of his life and an inspiration for them was his wife....

So when my home is clean and everybody is content, I can close the doors of my Studio and move to the space nobody visits, the space of my work. Sometimes I even remember the poems of Neruda, a poet who wrote masterpieces when he was happy...



One Day In August ....

Written on 17th of August, 2014
We are having a great time in Anavissos, going for morning swims, only two of us, the man I love and I, watching the shooting stars and making wishes...every night different.....
During the day, our son Oresti has his time to swim; the youngest one, Odyssea is still waiting for his big day in water. My husband will teach him to swim in September.
Mediterranean Sea is everywhere, wherever we turn our heads, and even when we sleep, it comes to our dreams. The citrus - sweet, salty smell of the air here cannot be compare to anything.
If a happiness is defined, it is NOW. Sometimes, I want to go on the street and shout:
-I have two sons and a husband who is the best kisser in the world!!!
But of course, I will not do it...

We have... a new addition to our family - Maria from Mani. She is no nonsense woman who knows a lot about babies and is a great cook, I can learn a lot from. She comes from the same village as my father-in-law, and our families know one another from the beginning of time...
The man I love told me, he was very happy I am a great mom, but he wanted back his wife and his lover and  the artist painter....So Maria Maniatisa is a relief person in the situations, when I go back to my old self...And I did a few times in my Studio here, in Anavissos, with the South-East windows, like I always wanted. I had painted here only two pictures, because I have no time...I am busy, living the moments of my life...

Today, when everybody was napping, I decided to spend some time in my studio, sketching for a big painting, when all over the sudden the door opened, and I saw a little man Oresti, bare feet, only in a diaper and a t-shirt, standing in the door looking for me...
- Uhhh? he asked, which most probably meant: "Can I get in?"
- 'Ελα, μπές μέσα - είπα (Get in - I said).
He wanted to be sure that he can get in and asked again :
- Uhhh?
When I said  - 'Ελα μέσα! (Get in!) - he finally entered the Studio....He just came to get a few kisses and hugs. When we started to make a picture together, Maria came to the studio searching for Oresti. Happy, that he is so desirable, he got on the sofa near by Maria, ready for hugs and kisses again....and then the man I love has walked in with our son Odyssea hanging off his shoulder. He also sat on the sofa.
So I had them all, in my Studio, sitting on the sofa: my husband was talking to Odyssea with love and  tenderness only a Greek man could give to a baby... Maria was kissing Oresti, and talking about great tasting feta cheese, we bought yesterday, and what we could cook using this cheese ....

My working session was over....

I told them, I put some restrictions, who can come to the Studio:
If you are taller than 70 cm, you cannot get in, without very special permission.
The man I love looked at me seriously and said :
- "I'll crawl, if I'll need to...."

And then it was a time to prepare a dinner....

The Scent of Acacia

Robinia - pseudoacacia

Written on 4th of July, 2014

Two years ago, when the man I love was looking for the house we can grow our family in, here, in Northern Virginia, he had one thing in mind: he wanted to find a property with a similar atmosphere to that of the old summer home (εξοχικό σπίτι) of my uncle in Anavissos, in Greece.  In that home, I used to spend most of my summers, where I was painting and cooking, from where I was going for long morning swims.… For over five years, I spent there three summer months…. alone, because, my uncle was at that time in London UK, where his only daughter, my cousin Maria, is living. My parents and my brothers were spending their summers not far away, in Glyfada, so an old house in Anavissos was a great place, where I could be alone when I wanted to, and I could go to my parents and had a company if I needed one … I was a house-sitter “en plein air” the only thing is: I never paint outdoors and rely on my memory when painting a nature…

One day in June 2012, in the garden of that house, under the acacia tree, I had a “very important” conversation with the man who became my soul mate and my lover, who gave me a world of passion, simplicity, and purity, I had never experienced before, who has given to me a completely new life. He had never forgotten the scent of acacia of that afternoon. And in July 2012, in Virginia, he has seen the house with acacia tree looking into the windows of the master bedroom. He knew he had found our home. We later called it Villa Agapantus.

Our acacia tree survived a few attempts on its life. My father-in-law is convinced that it is a “messy” tree, produces “sticky things” and its roots system is so elaborate and well developed that no other plant can live in the nearest neighborhood, acacia takes all the nutrients from the ground …takes them all. Every summer my husband has a long discussion with his father about the acacia, advocating for our tree... and always saving it.

“Besides”, my husband said, “it is not even a real acacia”…and this is true. The acacia tree in my uncle’s garden in Greece is a real one, from the family of Mimosas. It has yellow blooms with honey fresh smell of something familiar, delicate, and forgotten. In spite of that special scent the branches of acacia have thorns. In Greek ἀκίς -akis means thorn. The name acacia derives from ἀκακία- akakia – the thorn tree. This name was given to the tree in the Antiquity by Πεδάνιος Διοσκουρίδης – Pedanios Dioscouridis, a Roman Army surgeon, who was….a Greek man.
He was the first one who discovered a special beauty of the acacia tree and its medicinal properties. He was the first who described them. The acacia tree was used to reduce stomach and throat inflammations.  Πεδάνιος Διοσκουρίδης – Pedanios Dioscouridis had written  -Περὶ ὕλης ἰατρικῆς-  which was translated into Latin as - De Materia Medica – About the Medical Materials. Dioscouridis was not only a physician and a military man, but a dreamer and a scientist who was searching for medical substances during his long and frequent military postings…His 5-volumes encyclopedia was read as an important source of medical treatments for over 1500 years.

As to our American acacia tree, it is not a real acacia, it is a fake one, my husband frequently tells that to his father. After all, we live in America and fake things are more common here than anywhere else. The tree in front of our bedroom's window is Robinia pseudoacacia, from the family of Peas, and imitates real acacia very well; has intensely fragrant flowers, which are a bit similar to the scent of the orange blossoms, it has also some medicinal properties.

Our “acacia” is well protected by my husband from all sorts of perils. Every morning after his shower he stands by the window, checking out if the tree is there. The acacia is a silent witness of our life.
It always blooms in June; it bloomed before my sons were born, before the birthdays of my husband.
Last night, the man I love was watching the acacia tree before going to sleep.

- Η μυρωδιά των λουλουδιών της ακακίας είναι ένα άρωμα της αγάπης μας, το ξέρεις αυτό;  - Ρώτησε.
-The scent of the acacia blossom it‘s the fragrance of our love.  Do you know that? – He asked.

- Ναι, το ξέρω - Απάντησα.
- Yes, I know that - I answered.









Odysseas

Odysseas (4 days old) is burped by his 

yiayia (grandmother) this very funny way....

Written on June 30th, 2014

Odysseas was a king of Ithaca, an island, people think is mythical, but most of the Greeks know it is not ...

Odysseas is a very important person in Greek and Western history and literature, but also in every Greek individual development. Every Greek knows well how life-wise was Odysseas, how well he had planned his life, and how much he had tried to achieve the goals he had set for himself. He is an ultimate alter ego of every Greek. Odysseas was one of the heroes of the Homer's Iliad, it was him who had an idea to build a wooden horse, which Trojans brought to their city and then.... lost the war. Of course Odysseas is  a hero of the Odyssey, another literary marvel by Homer, a story of a human perseverance in living the life, doing the right things, and preserving the eternal love. Odysseas was the man who had chosen the right woman... Penelope.... she had waited for him for over twenty years, sure that he would be back....and he was back.

When we, Greeks, think about Odysseas, very often we have in mind Ithaca, a small poem written by Konstantinos Kavafys, where he tells that reaching the mythical Ithaca, the synonym of our goals, is not that important, what counts is the journey to Ithaca .....our life itself and our experiences...
From the beginning he says:

"Σα βγεις στον πηγαιμό για την Ιθάκη,
να εύχεσαι νάναι μακρύς ο δρόμος,
γεμάτος περιπέτειες, γεμάτος γνώσεις."

"As you set out for Ithaka
hope the voyage is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery."

Three weeks ago Odysseas joined our little family. He was born early morning on 8th of June. We were ready to name him Leonidas to celebrate a great Spartan king, but.... after he was born, the man I love looked at me and said " He does not look like Leonidas, he looks like Odysseas"
I stared at my son: he was curious, alert, and a bit surprised...he was Odysseas......

A little Spartan Odysseas was born thin and tall, but very strong; doesn't cry much, eats well, sleeps well, and most probably already plans his life..."a long one, full of adventure, full of discovery".....



The Al Bowlly Story



Al Bowlly







Written on 16th of May, 2014

Today, I have gotten by post a small CD - a 'thank you' present. In February, this year, I have given my cousin a stylish dress, so during an elegant dinner on St- Valentine's Day she could look like a flapper girl. My cousin is a classical pianist and the present she has sent me is musical - the greatest hits of Al Bowlly from my most favorite historical time - the time in between the wars - the 1920s and 1930s. I love everything from that period...art, music, fashion..
I started to listen to the recordings and immediately fell in love with those songs.
While day-dreaming about being a flapper girl who dances to that music I discovered inside the cover of the CD a small note written by hand....

"Find out who was Al Bowlly!"

I looked at the photo of the singer and thought: he was a hunk from the 30s, looking kind of Mediterranean, most probably Irish...Celtic dark look...but not exactly ...

So who was Al Bowlly?
He was the greatest pop singer of 1930s, his career had spread on four continents: Africa, Asia, Europe, and America, he was a singer who had "a voice out of this world" and who invented crooning, a very special way of singing, which is more a soft, delicate murmuring....
It became a canon of singing in the 1930s. Al Bowlly was also....a Greek man.

His story began on the boat to Australia. Al's father, a Greek from the island of Rhodes, met during his trip to Australia a Greek girl from Lebanon, fell madly in love with her, and the first thing he did after landing in Perth, Australia - he had married the girl. Australia wasn't the land of opportunities for Bowlly's parents, they moved to Africa. Al was born in Mozambique, and brought up in Johannesburg, in South Africa. There, his beautiful voice of extraordinary range and musical talent became well known. He was performing in the luxury hotels in South Africa and India, and soon was invited to London, to record a few songs. England became his new home, and his career was flourishing. He was singing with Ray Noble Orchestra and Lew Stone Band. Very pleasant personality, good looks, and a charisma helped Al to reach huge popularity in England. Ray Noble is often quoted as saying that Al often stepped away from the microphone with tears in his eyes; "never mind him making you cry, he could make himself cry!"

In 1934 Al Bowlly had visited America and sung with Glen Miller Orchestra. Songs: "Blue Moon", "Easy to Love", "I've Got You Under My Skin" made him famous in the United States. He had returned to England just before the war. In 1941 Bowlly was killed by a German parachute mine that detonated outside his apartment. He was only 43 years old.
Al Bowlly loved many girls, but never found his Greek girl to love... and as we know, a Greek soul needs another Greek soul to survive...

One day, in July, I have to dress like a flapper girl and go for a dancing rendez-vous with the man I love. We would pretend strangers who met while dancing....The only thing I have to do is to tell him about this idea....

Flyin'..... or Dedalos and Ikaros



Dedalos and Ikaros
Museo Correr, Venice, Italy 

 

 

Written on 12th of May, 2014

 Last week -end my sister in law, Agathe, called me from Houston, Texas to ask, if it is true that I am flying in my dreams. It really is.... I do fly. For over four months now, nearly every night, I have a flying dream, and the heavier I become with my child, the lighter I am in my dreams. My usual flying path is always Greek, I am flying over Anavissos (Ανάβυσσος), the village where we spend our summers; sometimes, I even go over Sunio (Σούνιο) and Athens (Αθήνα). Lately, I made a few rounds over Patra (Πάτρα). I have even seen Agios Andreas - Άγιος Ανδρέας - St. Andrews basilica, where my brother Kosta got married to Agathe, one hot afternoon, in July 2012. I fainted in that church during the wedding ceremony, because of the heat. But, in my dreams the weather is always pleasant, and the warm winds move me to the places I like.
Agathe asked me how many domes has St. Andrews basilica, and a few other questions, and then she said:
- Malista - μάλιστα - right.... I talk to you later....
 

When my brother Giorgos learnt about my flying dreams, he immediately remembered the summer week- end in 2010, we spent together in Venice. Like a good Spartan, my brother went to Greece to do his military service, and in the end of it, there was a huge reward - a brand new Greek passport. From then on, he was not only a Spartan, but also ...legally....a Greek citizen. After his army service ended, he came to Italy to visit me. We decided to go to Venice, because, once, the Venetian Republic was a part of a Greek history. And in Venice, just out of the Piazza di San Marco, in Museo Correr, my brother, an engineer, experienced his artistic epiphany; he has seen Dedalos and Ikaros, a marble sculpture by Canova: an old man walks with a teenage boy.... you can nearly hear them talking in Ancient Greek.... about.... flying.
My brother was completely taken by Canova's sculpture.
That summer, in Greece, he has tried paragliding for the first time.. and soon, it became a favourite pass-time for all of us...

Last week-end on Sunday night, when I asked my husband why he loves me, he told me:
- Γιατί πουθενά δεν θα βρώ μία τέτοια κοπέλα, που πετάει στον ύπνο της, στην Ελλάδα....(Because, I will never find a girl who flies in her dreams... in Greece...)
and he added:
- 'Ομος να προσέχεις τους Κύκλοπας ( But watch out for the Cyclopes)
 

I did not fly that night, I was lying near by the man I love, thinking... what could he dream about..He is the only man in the Universe who never snores and understands everything..

 

Lexis...Words





Written on 22nd of January, 2014

Nearly every night, the man I love has a small talk on the phone with his father. It can be a quite ordinary exchange of information, but sometimes the topic evolves and changes into an interesting discussion. No matter what it is, I love to listen to it, because it is in Greek. I love to hear lexis –λέξεις, words in Greek. It gives me a feeling of harmony and perfection enclosed in the sound of the language I love.
Plato -Πλάτων had elaborately explained that the words – λέξεις - lexis and the paintings are of the same, as they convey the same ideas in a different way. Lexis – λέξεις, words, give a mental image, while paintings materialize the image in a picture. Aristole - Ἀριστοτέλης had distinguished a special type of a lexi- λέξις; graphike lexi -  γραφική λέξη - was the one which described the image….and what is interesting, the word painting in Greek - zographia - ζωγραφιά, includes the meaning of writing.

My husband, a son of a Greek philologos - φιλόλογος – a Greek language teacher, speaks impeccable Greek, has a rich vocabulary, and is able to express himself in a very beautiful manner. Greek is a mother tongue for both us, but I speak it with a French accent, and ...and sometimes, I am jealous of his phonetic perfection in the language we both love....

From the time I fell in love with my husband, Greek was for us a language of intimacy, a language of love, we both like to hear it, play with it, enjoy it together. It was our love code; it became recently a home language…The language our son listens to every day… his mother’s tongue.
 
There are two lexis – λέξεις, words, I especially love;  small, not important words –lexis - λέξεις we repeat often without even thinking about them….an adverb…

Malista -μάλιστα, which means - that’s right, of course, definitely yes, very much so…
and
Oriste - ορίστε, which means - I beg your pardon? Yes? How can I help you?
 
This two lexis – λέξεις, words are as old as the Greek language is. They sound the same for over 6000 years…. They stay in the Greek language unaffected for thousands of years because they were too insignificant to be changed….so they stay the same….They were repeated by our forefathers, our fathers and soon our son will say it again…. Two small Greek lexis – λέξεις, words...