Ferragosto, one of our many national holidays has come and gone.  The origins of this “festa” date back to Rome’s first emperor, Augustus. At this time in history the Egyptian or Ptolemaic calendar was in use.

The New Year began in March and Aug.15th was marked by him as mid-year and was celebrated in the Roman world with his annual Feriae Augusti. Eventually this holiday became known as Ferragosto.

With the change of the calendar in the 1400’s (the scientists of the day discovered that since the time of Julius Cesar the world had lost 15 days and something needed to be done about it) from the Ptolemaic to the Gregorian, which we are still using today, this pagan holiday was turned into an ecclesiastic one, still called Ferragosto but now a day to celebrate the Assumption of the Virgin Mary.

The 15th of August marks for us, or perhaps better said, reminds us, that the summer has hit its peak and is on its way out.  The heat and humidity become less intense and the heavens help things along with the intervention of occasional unpredicted thunder storms and showers.  As ants prepare for the long haul ahead of fall and winter, my daily toil too becomes projected into the future.

Arriving back from Greece about a week ago, my ant-like work ethics have not completely taken control of me, not as yet.  I feel a soul  divided. 

A part of me is still swimming and painting on Aegean shores while the other part of me tugs on my shirtsleeve reminding me where and who I am today.

My sojourn in Greece this year was truly a wonderful and unique experience.  I keep saying to myself each year that it can’t get any better, but sure enough, it does. 

I have spent a number of summers already with my wonderful Greek family, the Christopoulos’; the Goddess Caterina, Nikos the Islander and their two sons, 13 yr. old Panyiotti and 18 yr.old J.J.,with each summer venture bringing something new. 

We have not had two summers, to date, that even vaguely resemble each other even though they are always spent on an island surrounded by either the beautiful Aegean or Ionian seas.  I still clearly remember the invasion of the insects on Paros one summer combined with the constant disappearances of the family dog, Aris, and another summer spent there lead us to the rediscovery of the long lost Temple of Apollo. The fear of being burnt to a crisp one evening late on the island of Speses when a horrible fire destroyed about ¼ of the island still lodges in my mind as the time we were nearly blown off of the face of the earth on the island of Naxos and the quiet tranquility this year of Syros. 

Each island holds its own stories, its own unique panoramas, water, beaches and peculiarities.  Nikos tells me that there are more than 2000 Greek islands which mean that there still lie ahead of us many, many more island adventures for many lifetimes still to come.

I flew into Athens and had a full day before we would make our yearly pilgrimage to the port of Piraeus to catch our early morning ship out to the islands.  I had always wanted to invite Panyiotti along with me to “play in Athens” but he was never quite old enough to do so.  This year was different.  I felt that he could definitely deal with Uncle Dennis for a day’s outing in the city.  He jumped at my invitation and off we went bright and early the next morning to visit the National Archaeological Museum in downtown Athens.  Even though, being an Athenian, he had never visited this museum before - a museum which is one of Greece’s most splendid. 

I couldn’t believe his veracity for visual information.  I had preconceived images of me dragging him through the museum but I quickly discovered that it was going to be vice-versa.  He did not gaily saunter past invaluable objects of Greek heritage as many his age would have done, but closely studied each one which in turn we would discuss.  I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. 

He was a virtual sponge and I could see that he was truly enjoying every minute of it.  About two hours had past and we still hadn’t even finished with the Cycladic and Mycenaean collections on the main floor.  I was truly amazed by him and his power of concentration.  We then went on to the Archaic, Classical and Hellenistic collections and believe it or not, he was still scrutinizing each object and asking me pertinent questions.  It was becoming too much, even for me.  I had created a monster.

At a certain point I asked him if he was tired and would rather go off to lunch rather than going to the upstairs galleries and view the thousands of ceramic vases, bronzes and frescoes from the volcanically destroyed island of Thera (Santorini) found there.  He looked at me in surprise as if to say, but you must be joking, of course we are going upstairs!  So, onward Christian soldiers.

I can still see his face as he gazed at a fragmented fresco from Thera depicting two young boxers about his same age.  He looked at me in utter surprise, still fresh as a daisy after already having spent hours in the museum, and exclaimed to me that “this fresco was on the cover of my history book”.  It truly seemed as if he alone had discovered it and that he was incredibly happy with his unique discovery.

It was truly an adventure, perhaps more for me than young Panyiotti.
Having finally plied him away from the museum with the promise that we would return one day next year to another museum which I loved, the Cycladic Museum, we grabbed a taxi and made our way to the Monastiraki area to lunch at my favorite restaurant, Thanassis’, located at the foot of the Acropolis.  Their kebabs and tzaziki were divine, as always, and from the smile on Panyiotti’s face I knew that his outing with Uncle Dennis was a success.

We left “hook, line and sinker” early the next morning and arrived about four hours later on the island of Syros.  Syros is part of the   Cycladic islands with Paros, Naxos and Mykonos in the near vicinity, well, four or five hours by ship “as the crow flies”.  In Greece, that is very near, a stone’s throw.

This year’s experience was completely different from anything we had ever had before.  In the past, we have rented some very beautiful houses, but this one was really “the perfect beach house”.  It is owned by an eccentric English Lady whose passion is to raise pedigree dogs and who has lived on the island for nearly 35 years.  She would have been a more than welcomed fifth component to the “Mama’s and the Papa’s”.  She arrived on Syros during its “hippy days” and never left.  She is completely mad but ever so dear.

Our house was constructed in the typical Cycladic fashion – low and horizontal of whitewashed local stone with an amply shaded terrace.  This year’s “super plus” was that we were a stone’s throw from the beach.  Three idyllic weeks were spent in personal pursuits - the perfect place for creation.

I painted less; however, than I have in previous years, only about eight watercolors which you will be able to see soon on my website, but in recompense, I did a lot of work in my sketch book drawing out ideas for future projects.  I found the small marble fragments washed ashore and transformed by the waves a great inspiration.  Syros helped me also to think more about the two series of works which I am currently involved with; the talking mountain series and my recent Cycladic inspired watercolors. 

Print ideas abounded.  Almost everywhere I turned I saw a new print.  I can’t wait to get back to the art studio at school to start a new series of silk screens and to try out our new professional printing press which will allow me once again to do etchings and engravings.

As Jack Web, of the famed US television series of the late 50’s, Dragnet, would say at either the beginning or end of each show “the city has a thousand stories to tell”.  So true and so it is for me. I feel as if I have only meagerly scraped the surface of what I wanted to share with you.

I haven’t even gotten near to describe the joy on Panyiotti’s face when we celebrated his 13th birthday with an incredible Harry Potter birthday cake late July, or J.J.’s wet ringlets which reminded one of either a young Greek god or the charioteer of Delphi, or the night that Nikos prepared his famous octopus on the grill – which was a two day ordeal - and then there was the Goddess’s niece and boyfriend, Catherine and George, who joined us from Australia for our last week on the island.  Not to speak of one of my last evenings in Athens when the Goddess, Nikos and I went out to celebrate the universe with dinner at the Piu’ Verde - nor of Niko’s discovery of the prophetic pendulum.  More stories for perhaps another time.

All and all I am very happy and content to have spent nearly a month with my four favorite Greeks. As usual, it has given me much food for thought and contemplation for both body and soul.  Enough food to hopefully see me through the coming year or until another Greek island adventure is to be had.

Tanti baci………………..dc