In the winter of 2007, I Spent several months in Iran, travelling and taking photographs. The original purpose of this trip is highly impractical: to find a recipe for a perfect fesenjan (chicken cooked in a pomegranate sauce).

From a Greek, Kuwaiti and Persian origins, and have always had the sensation of being a foreigner all my life, no matter where I am. And so, after a particularly difficult phase of my life, I decided to go to Iran, convinced I would find in a friend of mine once said to me “that one place I’ve never been is but somehow feels like home.

Though the concern of “home” remains elusive and I lost fesenjen recipe in the pocket of a raincoat. I discovered other things throughout my journey, each one a surprise and a gift. Some of these experiences I was able to capture with my camera, and now feel ready to share with other people.

I began to take photographs as a student in university, where I was studying fine arts. This is my first departure from portraiture, though it was actually not a conscious decision. My approach towards photography had always been an anthropological one, and my interest was entirely focused on people, something which changed while in Yazd, much to my surprise. As an artist, I did not expect that I would ever be truly inspired by a non-human subject matter. However, I found myself looking through the viewfinder, the third eye, and being so moved that I began to take pictures -of an inanimate subject, which at the same time had a life force of its own.

The bazaar in Yazd is a labyrinth of narrow alleyways topped by a series of clay domes, each one with an open-air oculus in its peak. The consequent effect of sunlight shining through these holes creates chiaroscuro shadows on the walls and floor, the forms and contrast of which change constantly from dawn to sunset. This visual juxtaposition of perfect geometric shapes found in the Islamic architecture, and the organic hand-molded clay walls, combined with sunlight, creates an atmosphere that borders on the surreal.

The bazaar is alive. It is not merely a solid mass of architecture and design; it is a canvas for the relationship between the earth and the sun. All the images 1intend to exhibit are from the interior and exterior of the bazaar, taken from a ground perspective, and from the roof.

The general atmosphere in Yazd was somber and visually minimal, due to its historical culture as a city, contemporary religious aesthetics, and the weather (at the time of my visit in the winter). Everything was black and white, save for construction sites, which were wrapped in khaki fabric and fuchsia colored plastic sheets. I purchased some of these materials and intend to use them in showing the work. They serve as a dramatic contrast to black and white photography, and also create a realistic sense of time and place for the viewer.

I have used the Yazd photographs as an initial starting point, or blank canvas, upon which I have incorporated fabric and artificial light to create the desired optical and conceptual effect. The final photographic prints were altered in order to accentuate particular elements of design, and to recreate the visual quality and atmosphere of sunlight- while still being true to the image, i.e. not changing its original form.

The photographs were taken with Kodak T-Max 400 film, developed by hand, and printed in a darkroom. Mention this because the process is important to me, and preserves the value and meaning of the images, at least in the term s with which I have approached this particular body of work.

The prints being ready, I removed certain pieces of the image from the photograph, and in the negative spaces sewed translucent or embroidered fabric. I made faint linear etchings on the papers surface in order to continue the visual flow between the printed image and the fabric sections. I have also punctured certain works with needles in the desired locations and used thread to embellish subtleties in the work that consider important.

The final result is that from afar, the work resembles a straight photograph, and in fact is a straight photograph because none of the information has been changed. Upon closer inspection, the viewer will notice the detail s in the picture, and the photograph becomes a mixed-media artwork.

When this photo-embroidery surface is ready, I attach it to either a stretched canvas or a shallow wooden box. Behind this solid rectangular framing device l have installed low-watt light bulbs in positions that correspond with changes in the photograph, and that follow the path of the fabrics. When switched on, light shines through the work from behind, and the work is transformed into something different. The positions of artificial light are strictly confined to the positions of sunlight in the original image. The reason for this is that I did not want to deviate from the reality of what I saw and felt while taking the photographs in Yazd, and in its place create something untrue- which is against the nature of photography.

The reason that I have chosen to work in this completely anti-digital format is as follows -I love the final, visual quality of photography, but the process leaves something to be desired- especially if one uses digital images and plays around in photoshop. There was a lack of physical, tacti l e sensation in my artistic life, and for a time I gave up photography entirely and started sewing instead. This process was also unsatisfying and frustrating me, until I realized that I did not have to choose between the two, and that 1was free to simply combine them. The way I work now, with paper, wood, canvas, thread, fabric, light, and using the photograph as a base, is extremely fulfilling, and creates a sense of harmony between my mind and my body.

The pieces are designed to be seen in both natural lights, and in semi-darkness. They can also be touched by the viewer (cotton gloves provided, to avoid fingerprints). This is a unique aspect of my work, seeing as most photos are normally set up in brightly lit neutral spaces in order to be viewed, and viewers are strictly discouraged from touching the works.

Ultimately, the work is undeniably abstract and can be interpreted on various levels - depending on the viewer. This is why I prefer not to title any of the works, because it would limit them to my personal definition of the event or the image, and create false restrictions on the pieces, and what they can be.

I want to respect the viewer by allowing him/her the freedom to identify the images however they want, without my influence. 1 feel that once the work is finished, it no longer belongs to me, and therefore the matter is out of my hands, as is the naming of things.