Ta Nea (2002)
Two books with photographs by Kostas Ordolis on "Herodion" and "Athenians" provoke thoughts about culture, cosmopolitanism, and photography.
"In Herodion" Photographs by Kostas Ordolis
"Athenians" Photographs by Kostas Ordolis
I owe a lot to the "Herodion." During my school and university years, the Athens Festival with its Herodion nights gave me the first great joys of live performances of dance, music, and Greek tragedy. Climbing on the rocks, we would ecstatically watch the ancient Greek tragedies with friends. Even the bombastic rhetoric of Kotsopoulos and Kalergis seemed magical to us then. The people-friendly Bejart, the difficult and unique Merce Cunningham, whose show was emptied by a rude audience that whistled as they left (the so-called invitation audience), the impressive Japanese Noh theater, the Dutch Ballets with choreographies by Hans Van Manen, the charming Nureyev and Fonteyn, the great Philharmonic Orchestras, much later Pina Bausch, are some of the performances that influenced my life and which I spontaneously recall. And if for the adults these festivals were an occasion for casual enjoyment according to their mature preferences, for the youth they were invariably and unselectively a continuous education and an unreserved pleasure. Especially considering that in the first two or even three decades of the Festival, there was no other way to access major dance, theater, or music events in our country. No videos, DVDs, or television.
Over the years, the Festival has faded. Economic rather than cultural criteria prevailed in the planning, leading to more realistic and consequently more indifferent relocations. Commercial entertainment events were also added to these. Moreover, fashion, lifestyle, and a strange trend of postmodernism have deliberately blurred the waters and the dividing lines. However, now and then something of the old glory reappears. And we climb up again for another evening.
But there is also another side to Herodion. The cosmopolitan one. It’s no secret that many went there with no other desire than to be seen by those who would see them. These people usually sat in the front rows and arrived late. But this too was part of the fun. Because the show thus had a small introduction of gossip. After all, what harm does the forced presence of a few pretentious spectators do when it is offset by the genuine enjoyment of the majority?
However, it’s strange that over the years of the Festival, it has not been methodically and qualitatively photographed. Apparently, there is no organized team to undertake the quality photographic treatment of both the events themselves and their preparations or behind-the-scenes. Books with a serious photographic (and not only) account of the performances should be published annually, and photographic exhibitions dedicated to this. It is obvious that the programs of the performances do not serve such a purpose nor remain as references in libraries. And it is also obvious that videotaping the performances does not cover the entirely different role served by photography.
The book "In Herodion" by the esteemed photographer Kostas Ordolis, with photos from backstage, intermissions, and rehearsals, is an attempt in the right direction. However, it gave me the impression that it is rather an opportunistic and not systematic collection. The photos of Herodion do not constitute a "look," a view on the subject, and most of them (when considered individually) do not justify their thematic importance. Moreover, the aesthetic and artistic quality of the photos is quite far from what we are accustomed to from Ordolis.
The book on Herodion also has another fundamental weakness: the somewhat naive texts that introduce and define the various sections to which the photos are (arbitrarily and without reason) classified. These texts first and foremost serve no purpose. And just for that, they should be eliminated. However, this is a common (especially in the past) practice of adorning and accompanying photos with poeticizing texts, especially when it was considered that the subjects in the photos were not particularly significant. Thus, the texts reflectively lent an artistic tone that would justify the photos. To give an idea of these texts, here are some of the section titles: "Even the inanimate give promises," "A moment captured that concentrates the toil of a lifetime for a thrill," "Herodion opens an embrace," "Scars in the soul are the marks of creation." The introductory texts within the sections develop in a similar style.
It’s evident that Ordolis's level does not allow us to speak of "bad" or "irrelevant" photos. But exactly this level makes me judge the photos of Herodion strictly and refer anyone who wants to appreciate the real photographic work to his very good book "Athenians" (the best book that has been published so far with work by Kostas Ordolis), which I can only critique as gathering some of the best Greek street photographs (regardless of Athens). My preferences (to help the reader) are the photos on pages 31, 33, 34, 38, 40, 41, 43, 46, 47, 48, 49, 51, 53, 54, 55, 57, 60, 62, 63, 65, 67, 69, 71, 73, 74, 81, 83, 84, 89, 90, 91, 93, 95, 96, 97, 100, 107, 115, 119, 120, 123, 125, 131, 133 (quite a few, as you can see).
Plato Rivellis