*By Platon Rivellis - 2022
Photography Enters My Life
A seemingly trivial decision or a coincidental event can sometimes shift the main axis of our lives. That's what happened to me with my turn towards photography and the establishment of the Photographic Circle. I often promised myself and my students to note the various seemingly insignificant experiences related to this new axis of my life and simultaneously to capture the essence of my present (let's call it that) maturity. I always hoped that these memories and thoughts would help clarify the points I make in my teaching.
To preempt questions from readers regarding the reactions and positions I mention below, which may seem exaggerated in both positive and negative perceptions, I must confess (by way of an apology) that I think I am characterized by a combination of maturity and childishness. Therefore, any inexplicable or contradictory opinion of mine that raises questions can easily be dismissed as attributed to this paradoxical combination. I have the feeling (although my memories do not betray me) that I was born an adult and remained a child. A consequence of this confusion was that I believed others were like me and thought the same way I did. Even worse, I thought they probably loved me too. A close person once asked me in surprise: "Why do you think they love you?" And of course, I didn't know what to answer. My father used to say that it takes many different people to make a world. Despite accepting this declaration, I always held the belief (or hope) that the people I met could be like me and become friends.
My involvement with photography began when I met Nana (Karamagkouli), who has since become an integral part of my life and a participant in all my professional and artistic activities. It is common for changes in people's lives to be sweeping and interconnected. My enthusiasm for photography, supported by the euphoria induced by all the parallel changes in my life, led me to believe it would be infectious and that I would draw those around me into a grand, broad collaboration. I also had a sense that others would recognize both my capabilities, which I always trusted, and my—hopefully infectious—enthusiasm, so that we could collaborate collegially on many noble goals. Although the experiences that followed grounded me and sobered me to a significant extent, I remain prone to these naive enthusiasms. I fear them, yet at the same time, I don't want to lose them. This is what I mean when I refer to maturity mixed with childishness.
Between 1976 and 1981, I taught myself photography. I read countless books and magazines, took photographs, printed. I practiced the technique, studied photographic books, and catalogued dozens of foreign magazines, dividing their pages into photographic portfolios, technical articles, and camera tests. I then bound the articles from the three categories into volumes and even indexed the volumes with page numbers, so I could consult them again. And naturally, I neglected my main profession as a lawyer. The countdown had obviously begun.
The first significant decision related to photography came in 1981 when I started teaching photography at an American college in Kifisia and in private classes at a studio I had set up on Arachova Street, called Studio Quark. It was a bold and somewhat strange decision. It wasn't the obvious way out for someone who had recently discovered photography. What drove me to start teaching? Perhaps a premonition, an intuition about what would fill the years of my life that followed? The only thing I had taught before then—while a student—was French to children to earn pocket money. I believe there were two reasons that pushed me to do this. First, that I believed only by sharing what I learned could I realize if and how well I knew it, and second, that only by sharing something could I enjoy it. Teaching quickly revealed another charming dimension. The power of communication it holds, as well as its darker side, the power of dependency.
I initially thought photography was my lifesaver to escape from lawyering. And so it seemed. However, I quickly decided I didn't want to become a professional photographer, partly because I was indifferent to established photographic professions, like that of a reporter or advertiser, and partly because I had already experienced the uncomfortable client-professional relationship, which I had known as a lawyer. Simultaneously, however, based on my fresh photographic knowledge, I realized that the photography I saw around me in Athens did not excite me.
Thus, I reached my second critical decision to attend seminars and lectures for five months in a small village in the USA, where great photographers gathered. This was perhaps what I needed to mark my transition from lawyering to photography. It was also a need to be inspired by good photographers I was unlikely to meet in Athens. My brief stay in America proved extremely useful for the following specific reasons. First, I demystified several big names in photography when I met them in person. This was particularly helpful. Second, I was fortunate to meet Garry Winogrand, whom I had not even known by name until then. His teaching was a revelation and forms the basis of my photographic views to this day. Third, I met a younger and very likable photographer, Chlarles Melcher, who conducted an inspired, simple, and practical lesson that I immediately adopted as the basis for my own. Fourth, I discovered the joy of the photographic community. Doing something common with others while working and having fun at the same time. And fifth, I met Marguerite Yourcenar, who lived in the area, something that continues to inspire me even as a mere memory.
The “Photo Space” Store
Upon my return, I decided to create the photographic store of my dreams, thus giving a new direction to my livelihood, which I then did not believe teaching would secure for me. However, difficulties and negative surprises began immediately. I will mention some of these, but I will state beforehand that I mention them because I consider them useful and unable to shake the enthusiasm and joy that accompanied the fruitful decade of the 1980s. The attempt to earn my living through the photographic store I opened in 1983 was merely a trial move for a livelihood, which, although unsuccessful, enriched me with many unexpectedly useful experiences, at a relatively reasonable cost. The additional gain was that through the “Photo Space,” as the store was called, I met the entire photographic world of Greece, both professional and amateur.
Regarding the experience with “Photo Space,” I can say that I was convinced it is almost impossible to make a store as you dream it and at the same time very profitable. It is another verification of the principle that you can't kill two birds with one stone. Initially, I achieved the first part. It became a photographic store where every photographer would find what they wanted, would have experienced and detailed advice, good prices, and a wonderful atmosphere. The thick carpets, the soft classical music, the variety of coffees, teas, and croissants, the numerous and intensively trained staff, and the photographic exhibitions on the walls completed the happiness. And now the other side of the myth. Some were bothered by the carpet because it was too “posh” (at least that's how it was spread). Many occupied us for hours for advice while buying for a minimal price difference from other smaller stores. Foreigners came to be informed in their language about cameras they had bought elsewhere. And when we finally closed, one (I would call him a regular more than a customer) almost teared up in despair, although we remembered very well that he had never bought anything.
In the meantime, we also experienced thefts. The accessories were all accessible for the customer to inspect. The neighboring grocer warned me to secure the side window because he saw products leaving through it. A very expensive tripod disappeared, set up next to me, while I was talking with a customer. A fellow store owner called me one day to ask if I had just sold a rare printing paper that only “Photo Space” had, because he saw it in the hands of a known “light-fingered” customer of his. And he was right. We were forced to lock everything in showcases with dozens of locks for which we ordered uniform master keys from Italy. But the mischief continued with the posters and postcards. Another brilliant idea of mine. I learned that an informal contest had started in the surrounding schools and tutorials for who could steal the most postcards from “Photo Space.” And finally, it was revealed that we were also being stolen from by some (at least three) of the employees.
I also expressed to import companies my puzzlement about how another store could sell products cheaper than we bought them. I then learned that the retailer in question bought large quantities of products on long-term credit, which he sold below purchase price to have money for usurious lending to gamblers outside the Parnitha casino. I could remember other stories like competitors' employees transporting goods without receipts on very fast motorcycles, the smuggled photographic cameras sold from an apartment building's loft (at that time they were selling two hundred flashes for one camera). Then, I understood that this job was not for me and Nana (we were respectively president and managing director of this successful company!). But I should also remember a characteristic, somewhat comic, story when a worker accidentally issued the first receipt of the day with the previous day's date, and the buyer happened to be a tax inspector. They immediately came to audit our Anonymous Company. Present and our experienced accountant. With crossed arms and very polite demeanor, we stood upright, Nana and I, side by side. And while the audit had started, the clever accountant said to the head, pointing at us with a condescending demeanor. “Can't you see them?” He looked at us, from top to bottom with an imperceptible sadness in his gaze (perhaps also with a bit of contempt), shook his head, and left without imposing any fine and without being “greased.” He simply pitied us. All this led me to realize, after six years of operation, that “Photo Space” had to close permanently. I had also read that experienced New York traders close their business if it doesn't make a profit in the first six years of operation because that means it is set up wrong. And that's what I did before I got in deeper. The move was salvational, because it fully and effectively freed both me and the Tsakalof area to serve the “Photographic Circle,” which had just been established, but also my classes. This brief commercial experience has since made me deeply admire successful merchants.
The Photographic Grounding
My education regarding photographic reality, however, was accompanied during the same decade by my awareness of photographers and the world of photography art in our country. And I must confess that the information discouraged me. The first time I returned from America and participated in a panel on photography and was tasked with making a presentation about art and photography, I found myself—still innocent—facing strange reactions. A very well-known artist, while I was expressing my enthusiasm for cave paintings, which I contrasted with contemporary art, interrupted me to say with very belated provocativeness: “Art is whatever I call art.” The audience burst into lengthy applause. Another who had just entered the room started attacking me and when the moderator interrupted him saying that he hadn't even heard me, he said: “I know what such people like him say.” At the end of the seminar, a new and very polite lady, whom I have not seen since, made me exceptionally flattering compliments, but added: “Why do you have a contemptuous demeanor?” Surprised and distressed, I told her that: “Possibly what you perceive as contempt—and it is certainly something that upsets me—may be nothing more than my despair for the chaos that separates me from some people.” Over the years, I have not changed my position, but I learned (not always) to hide better.
The next year I was in another panel with a photographic audience. When I mentioned Julia Margaret Cameron, a very well-known contemporary photographer of mine, and later a teacher, observed that: “You obviously like her because you are influenced by your Western bourgeois culture.” I naturally could not respond to that without being offensive. And I don't remember responding. Immediately afterward, I referred to the famous photograph by Cartier-Bresson of the man jumping over water (at the Saint Lazare station). A well-known contemporary photographer of mine again observed that: “This photograph must be of more interest to the French, because it rains a lot there.” No comment. A year later, I was talking with a well-known intellectual of photography (and not only), who, when he learned from our conversation that I happen to be a Catholic Christian by religion, exclaimed: “Now I understand why you have these views on art.” I said nothing, but I didn't understand what was so strange about my views and how they were connected with the religion of my ancestors. Another time during the same period, a distinguished Greek photographer passed by Tsakalof after visiting the August Sander exhibition at the Goethe Institute and told us that it reminded him of ID photographs where simply half had a gray background and the other half a white one. These are not claims that withstand challenge or discussion. However, it is clear that for me, who had just renounced my profession to immerse myself in photography and after the thrilling acquaintance with Garry Winogrand, this painful and abrupt contact with the existing Greek photographic reality was not very encouraging. And not to forget that another—again of my own generation—well-known photographer said that photos like those of Winogrand could be taken by anyone if they spent a little time at Omonia Square and shot blindly with a motor drive.
My experience teaching in schools was very positive, though. Children are always good and enthusiastic. But the truth is that I do not feel that my specialty is school-age children, although I encountered no problem teaching in high schools. I always felt a little awkward with the younger classes. However, the students of Panteion University, where I taught for three years, did not leave me with enthusiastic memories. They attended my class rather passively. As if it did not concern them. As for the students of photography schools, very few showed genuine interest. Some of these few remain members of the Circle, but the overwhelming majority dreamed of professional successes.
However, in the context of disappointing surprises, I must also add my experience when a few years after the establishment of the Circle, two photography schools asked me to declare that they could use the large library of the Circle to get the endorsement of collaboration with universities abroad. I suggested donating half of the Circle's subscription and declaring that the school would pay it, provided that the students paid the other half of the subscription. From two schools (very well-known then), only three enrolled. One of them even began methodically visiting the “Circle” to read and asked the members on duty to give him the books by letter of the alphabet. And at one point he exclaimed: “I reached Kappa and still to see a good photographer” (do your calculations). Another time we held a photography contest with three top prizes, consisting of three Nikon FM cameras and three scholarships for my seminars. The trio, awarded by the Circle's committee, collected the cameras but did not show up at the seminars. I forgot the seminars in the provinces with Popular Education and the choices of photography teachers. There, things were at least more interesting because I learned the deep state of the photographic domain, which, however, had nothing hopeful. The positive was the acquaintance with very few worthy people, counted on the fingers, with most of whom I maintained contact. I will not forget that when I asked all the candidates to mention a photographer they loved, almost none “remembered” a name.
The first period of the "Circle"
The 1980s were for me a hyper-fertile period of discoveries, experiences, new goals, and directions, to close in the last two years with the founding of the "Photographic Circle". The Circle very quickly clarified within me the mesh of activities that would frame my life henceforth. Simply, everything I had done until then alone, I would no longer do alone. Namely: studying books, processing photos, discussing and critiquing photos, publications and exhibitions, travels, and excursions. And all these happened very quickly, within the framework of a new broad family, which, however, was not bound by blood ties and therefore had to be supported by bonds of ideas, values, and goals. These values may have started and been expressed by me, but they had to be perceived and accepted by the members. And this was not (nor is it) always easy.
The first major change that took me a few years to implement was to discontinue any class where participation was not freely decided by the participants. I wanted to limit myself to a much more attractive and transparent teacher-student relationship, where the latter chooses the former, pays him because he feels he benefits from his teaching, and rightly leaves him when he no longer shares views with him. And far from us the schools and universities.
The second change was that a seminar can only be the beginning. That's why the photography and critique seminars in Paros and the Thursday presentations started very early. I also tried to enrich the members' knowledge by organizing lectures with third-party speakers on art history, music, poetry, etc. The film screenings were added a little later through their inclusion in the summer seminars in Paros.
During the fertile years of the 1990s in Tsakalof, much was done. The space was lively. Lectures, concerts, screenings, exhibitions, seminars. Continuous enrichment of the library (when we donated it to the Benaki Museum, it numbered 4,000 titles. Monthly letters of mine with comments on new books. New publications, mine and the members' (Photospacio Editions). Magazines (Photospacio). Inauguration of the cafe (Photospacio again). TV shows. Trips (Italy, Egypt, Russia). Excursions (repeated to Nafplio, Sparta, Zagorohoria, Syros). It was the liveliest period in Tsakalof.
In those years, I again had the opportunity to study some aspects of human pettiness. What disappointed me about myself, however, is that I often allowed these pettinesses to hide the prevailing generosity of those around me. It is sad that negative feelings often have greater power than positive ones. Probably because they have the power to hurt. The only justification I can invoke is that I often sought the possible part of my own responsibility behind every negative behavior. Perhaps a sample of a hidden arrogance that insists on being responsible not only for the good but also for the bad. Or perhaps a residue of a religious upbringing that gives disproportionate importance to the lost sheep.
The whole edifice of the association was obviously based on my initiatives and personal presence, yet from time to time I made many efforts to assign responsibilities and competencies to other members I appreciated. But I always failed. Maybe because everyone had settled or compromised with my primacy, or because every initiative entails responsibility and work, or, finally, because the others distrusted any authority that someone else took beyond me. I reconciled with this reality by thinking that behind the most famous collective achievements there is always an absolutely individual initiative, and it is most common that with the disappearance of this one, the achievement is downgraded or disappears.
The second period of the "Circle"
My installation in Syros, the transfer of the basic activities to the Benaki Museum, the shrinking of the headquarters on Tsakalof street, the abolition of the clubhouse and cafe, but mainly the invasion of digital technology weakened the unity of the circular family. However, all the above were part of an unavoidable course. The chamber no longer had utility. Books were replaced by the internet. The meetings at Benaki were open to the public. For a moment I was carried away and considered the Circle decorative or simply a historical residue.
However, I would like to touch on another issue concerning the relationship of the members of the Circle with the Circle's family and with me. Those who have left to date did well to leave. I hope they benefited as long as they stayed, and I am sure that their departure signifies nothing more than the rupture of the "family" ties which in this case are mainly ideological ties. It is obvious that what keeps the members of the Circle connected are ideological ties and mutual esteem. If these exist, then everyone benefits from coexistence. If they are shaken, departure is a logical escape. I protected the relationship with the members in another way. My human preferences and emotional bonds with one or another never influenced my photographic judgment. My judgment may occasionally be mistaken, but it was never swayed by social or emotional influences. I would be deeply ashamed of myself if I had done it. Conversely, the hurt that sincere rejection causes to the insecure (and most belong in this category) is frightening, and the aggressiveness that is sometimes released proves inhuman. However, those who appreciate and value my opinion accept the hurt of rejection and recognize the sincerity of the praise.
However, all the above minor adversities were not enough to diminish my joy for the work we did for so many years at the "Photographic Circle". The letters of gratitude, devotion, and love I have received are infinitely more than those dripping with bile, hatred, and inexplicable anger.
The members of the "Circle" today
The significant changes caused by the new technology and the new living and behavior conditions in the first quarter of the new century led me to a substantial repositioning of my relationship with my students, with the "Circle," and with photography. What does the "Circle" mean, since there are no longer not only prerequisites and criteria for registration or deletion, but not even a common clubhouse, common property elements, or any direct or indirect practical benefit of participation. Due to the particularly low annual contribution, since operating expenses are very limited, anyone, if they want, can remain a member even from acquired speed. However, it would be more correct to think that the only cohesive substance that holds the members together is the acceptance of some common views shared by all members. This is the reason for the existence and identity of the "Circle." Participation in a broader circle whose artistic views converge and are related.
Since I, as the founder and president of the association, necessarily determine the direction of the "Circle," I must refer to some changes I adopted in my positions during these years when the bond of the members of the "Circle" with each other (but also with me) became more mental and spiritual, rather than practical and physical. And I must emphasize that the years of the pandemic contributed significantly to shaping not only new conditions but also a completely new reality regarding life, but also the identity of the "Circle." Note that during these years, during which online communication was introduced and prevailed, students and members from distant areas of our country or the planet were added, thus enriching the list of members with unprecedented breadth. These distant participations were attracted exclusively by the artistic proposal supported by the members of the "Circle" with their work (and I with my teaching), since "the Circle's company" no longer has to offer live presence and crowding, but always has to offer ideas and views. Live meetings have already timidly returned, but online communication has come to stay. However, the cohesive web remains ideological. And I must emphasize that in earlier years, when live presence was the exclusive rule, the dialogue among members was less developed than it is today. Today the "Circle" may have fewer members than in earlier times, but the registered members, coming from various parts of the country and the planet, express and support (both substantively and symbolically) more consciously and responsibly the artistic identity of the association.
As for myself, I found that I always approach photography through the same prism I have always supported, but with a significant difference in shade and distance. I have rid myself of feelings of photographic brotherhood. For many years I did not dare to claim my right to independence from prevailing and established photographic trends. In reality, I do not feel an integral part of Greek photography or international photography. I want to deal now (and I do not say this because of age, I just found the courage to admit it because of age) only with topics, goals, and content that move and interest me. I love art, but not all art. I love photography, but not every photograph. I love cinema, but not all directors. If I were an art historian (which I am not and do not want to be), I would have the obligation to follow and know everything related to my specialty. I might even not have the right to express an opinion, since a historian analyzes history, does not make it by intervening. However, I am not even a critic, so I would have the role of expressing an opinion and moreover, I would become so much more valuable the more critical, since praising rarely makes a career. It is well known that the only criticism I express is within the context of classes and lectures addressed to a limited circle of listeners. My desire and the role I have adopted is to promote what I love in the hope that some will either simply enjoy it or use it in their own creative choices.
Participation in the "Circle" does not only mean that someone accepts me as a teacher, theorist, curator, or anything similar, but that they also accept and support the photography made by the members. And I wish to emphasize very strongly that the photography made by the majority of the members of the Circle is of an extremely high level. And I support that today it is at the highest level since its founding. What, however, is the identity of the Circle? Is it possible to determine it verbally? First of all, is it correct for an artistic identity to be formulated with precision and within very specific limits? Shouldn't it allow, tolerate, and encourage liberties and initiatives? Nevertheless, I think it is possible to determine an identity indirectly by expressing preferences and exclusions. I will attempt with various references to approach more closely the type of photography that expresses the members of the Circle, a type, however, that develops differently through the artistic personality of each member.
If I had to use a general characterization, I would say that we are all amateurs in the Circle. As amateurs are certainly all poets. I emphasize this term because many who in previous decades fought both me and the Circle did so using this characterization as a reproach. The artist-creator can only be an amateur. The concept of profession is primarily associated with livelihood, which, although obviously very important, has nothing to do with the motive and goal of artistic creation. The ease of photographic technique (as well as the corresponding ease of poetic language) gave talented and passionate people the opportunity to create artistic work through their passion and persistence, without necessarily having a parallel goal of professional exploitation, which, even when it exists and coincides, is incidental and not necessary. Personally, I am very fascinated by the existence of anonymous and unknown artists who do not occupy the foreground of publicity but produce a very significant silent work. Their presence is a spiritual warmth for me. This cannot happen in the art of spectacle, but it is very common in poetry or visual poetry, which is photography. And such photographers constitute the majority of the "Circle."
The spread of photography in our times has created confusion between the boundaries of the artist (amateur) photographer and the hobbyist (amateur) photographer. The difference between the two can be found in the need of artists to seek the "spiritual excitement" that their photography can offer both themselves and their audience. No profession and no hobby (i.e., a relaxed, enjoyable activity) is pursued with the goal of spiritual excitement. All other reasons may apply and coexist, whether it's making a living or entertainment. But spiritual excitement cannot be satisfied with a secondary and auxiliary role. It always plays a leading part.
The word "excitement" might sound a bit pompous or seem incomprehensible. I use it, however, to avoid the word "emotion," which the general public identifies with the content and the way of communication in art. The word emotion is misleading for both the creator and the recipient. I prefer to refer to a complex excitement, arising from intellectual, mental, but of course emotional elements, i.e., a mixture, the carrier and outlet of which is the work of art. The addition of the word "spiritual" is an attempt to include all these components of artistic excitement and joy.
Being a member of the "Circle" does not imply participation in a brotherhood or guild. It is about participating in an artistic group, which gives prominent importance to the "amateur" motive that drives it, often as significant or greater than their professional endeavors. It also means that they silently accept certain artistic values that arise from the members' work, as they accept the course I have charted through my teaching. For all of us, the variety of artistic proposals from the members is a valuable element, and we enjoy the differences among them. This does not mean, of course, that we would accept every possible deviation, because there are always limits, without which there can be no opinion. We are glad that there is a general photographic direction, but we hope that those who recognize it are also able to see the infinite deviations constituted by the different artistic temperaments of the members.
I have decided no longer to waste my energy dealing occasionally with any photographer. I prefer to focus my interest on those photographers whose work I can follow consistently and continuously. Being a member of the "Circle" constitutes for me an initial identity of acceptance of principles, a basic agreement of principles, with which we can collaborate, progress, and communicate. Participation in the "Circle" implies acceptance of the photographic beliefs and principles of the association, as they emerge from the members' photographic production.
The above views and observations have convinced me over the last few years that it is not right to express critical comments about photographers and photographs that clearly move outside the photographic approach that interests me and which I support. For this reason, I have limited my critique to the narrow circle of members and students who accept their participation in meetings I call "Photographic Critique Seminar." The only thing I have left to say to a photographer whose photographs I cannot accept is simply that they do not concern me. They do not interest me. I cannot and do not want to reject or characterize them. They move in a different area.
Moreover, critique is useful when it is critical. Only then will the photographer benefit and eventually correct their aim. If the critique is laudatory, it can help in the emotional support of the photographer (which is not insignificant), but it cannot lead to improvement. The prerequisite for beneficial communication for the artist is the mutual acceptance of goals and methods. For this reason, I have repeatedly advised members and students not to seek comments from "experts" indiscriminately, but only when they come from individuals whose work, teaching, or views move in a similar direction to that of the one being judged.