Platon Rivellis: "Photography, like poetry, is among the 'useless' things that matter in life"
I met him after 27 years. It was as if not a day had passed, still as friendly. Waiting for us at the port of Syros, he stood out among the crowd, just like in 1990 when he was preparing his lectures in a corner of Kolonaki square. Today, he chooses a different lifestyle. His peaceful, relatively secluded paradise in Syros bears the signature of his wife, the interior decorator Nana Karamagkioli. She captures it with introspection and photographic mastery. Next to her collection of Architectural Digest magazines, in staggering numbers, are the editions of Fotokhoros featuring her photos that testify to her love for the residence with its characteristic atrium. The kitchen is home to their well-cared-for cats, purring with pleasure at the sight of visitors. The lush, healthy plants and the estate with its olive trees enhance the welcoming energy. The basement, specially arranged to welcome members of the Photographic Circle, is an exceptionally well-maintained space that fosters a friendly disposition for communication.
Platon Rivellis' attractive personality fills the room. Over 23 years, his teaching has changed little. It retains the same humanitarian character, surprising with references to his family's past, something he did not use to do. Reconciled with time, with even more data at his disposal, he rarely forgets the hundreds of creators' names. He is the one who taught us the Art of Photography, connected with each of us individually, and has forgotten none of us. He introduced us to Tarkovsky, Fellini, Bach, Kertész, Atget, Strand, and many more in a way unheard of elsewhere. In our 20s, he showed us the essence of art and, ultimately, the way to live. The Circle was the noble nursery of many Greek photographers. I cannot think of a photographer from my generation or later artists who did not pass through the always crowded ground floor of Tsakalof street, where on Wednesdays and Thursdays, during the presentations of photographers' work, the trash bin of Skoufa street was the only thing that disturbed our absolute concentration. Now, this historic meeting place, which could have become a museum, has changed its function, and only a small part of it remains to remind us of our glorious youth and the culture of the 90s.
I feel very lucky and proud to have had him as a teacher. Perhaps sometimes I feel guilty for following his wonderful teaching so little, but after 30 years, I can evaluate how crucial it was. Platon, as we always call him, and not without reason since he is always approachable and friendly, is the photography teacher who, fortunately for us, speaks Greek beautifully!
Platon Rivellis on teaching, life, and art
I started teaching in 1981, and now, after 40 years, in an era when even the darkroom was lost, there were no supplies, and my students and I had to order them. Once, an elderly gentleman asked me what it means to be a photography teacher. A reasonable question! "Nowadays, people take photos with mobile phones; what more can you teach them?" he asked. There's a lot one needs to learn. What gave me great joy is that, having educated myself through reading and my family – my era's education did not focus on the arts, and I did not graduate from any school – I had the opportunity to pass on as much as I could to my students. Some liked it and accepted it, while others did not and drifted away.
I became a teacher in a field where there were no teachers at the beginning. I didn't know what to say; I was a photographer but not a professional, so I used the word professor. Wrongly, because it's a formal term for universities and serious institutions. In essence, I am a teacher, and over the years, I have proven that this interests me and I do better than anything else. A teacher needs a student with whom he can communicate. If the student feels that the teaching benefits them and they want it, then communication has succeeded. For some, I am a very good teacher, and possibly indifferent for others.
I enrich people's interest, usually younger than me, in things related to the poetry of life. The important things are the most ambiguous and mysterious, so when someone can more easily identify with a teacher and share a vision of life with him, it is logical for a strong relationship to form. I believe that the majority of my students would say they gained something while with me – some stay longer than others. Mentorship relationships do not easily end.
Teaching art is not just about transmitting knowledge. The fact that university studies around the arts have become internationally fashionable is perhaps partly absurd. I understand it has to do with society's acceptance, but I don't think art suffered during times when apprentices were alongside the great maestros of painting or in cinema when some went as director's assistants to learn the trade. One does not need to have gone through tertiary education to become an artist.
All great artists needed people to talk to them about their art. I remember a phrase by the English painter Bacon, who said there is no greater joy than having someone you can communicate with, who understands what you are doing, and can offer an opinion. The history of teaching includes a first part concerning visiting someone to listen to him, to see if I'm interested in his stance. For some, the time comes when they leave and look for another mentor, while others continue to keep in touch. And so, a specific group of people with whom we spend years, sharing advice and opinions, grows.
Once in Syros, during a summer class, someone whispered to his wife, "and now why are we talking and wasting our time with Bach?". He was right, on the other hand, to take better photos, you may need a bit of cinema and a bit of poetry to move away from the applied side of photography. As a teacher, I receive a variety of comments. I have in my computer's archive two categories related to my teaching: offensive emails, terribly interesting, but also very warm and touching thanks. If you want to be an honest teacher, you will have both.
Art is not a profession, and if you don't clarify your intentions, you're in deep trouble. Art, for some, may mean financial or social success. For a tiny minority, however, it means nothing of the sort. You don't produce work with the aim of reselling it and establishing yourself. Photography, like poetry, is the art that liberates you; it's among the "useless" things that matter in life.
The essence of photography is time. In photography, especially in artistic photography, you'll find that photographing something that exists and you "cut" it out of the world and save it is a source of joy. The only thing we have in life is the past; there is no present, the moment you say it, it automatically becomes past and follows us, and with it, we live. Many photos that accompany us from childhood replace or complement our memory. It's not coincidental that Fellini's mother said, "My child, what you present as your childhood didn't happen like that in Rimini." And he replied, "Since I remember it that way, it happened that way." The part of memory is very powerful, it's the basis for one to start pondering about the art of photography. Whatever emotion it evokes, it's positive.
Once, during a tour of one of the Circle's exhibitions at the EAT-ESA, seeing a photo that showed the bust and a bit of a woman's head holding a baby in her arms, he remarked that it did not capture the mother's grief and love. The photographer, standing next to him, replied: "It's not a mother, it's an aunt." Sometimes photography is made up of fragments, a piece of space, a piece of time, with abstraction, the power of the past, and description as its basic elements. However, it's a problem when it doesn't say anything more than what it shows. If we see ancient capitals fallen on the ground or, for example, the Parthenon, it's information we easily recognize but hardly surpass. Photography runs the risk of being just information, conflicting with it, and if the information is too strong, it leaves no room for poetry to penetrate. All of this, therefore, requires a lot of thought from the creator and makes selection difficult.
There are many misunderstood perceptions, and it's good to address them. We live in an era of politically correct and activism, where everything must contribute to something that benefits the common good. So if you do photography, painting, music, theater, you must incorporate a goal into your work. I don't accept this. I greatly respect and admire people who give their mite to their neighbor, but there is neither reason nor utility in doing it through art.
If you want to make art with a specific goal, like advertising, then advertising will guide you, while if you make art with the goal of doing good, e.g., helping the poor, you're making a mistake. The poor won't be helped because you made a work showing something sad. If you want to contribute, do real activism. From the moment photography or any art takes on an applied character, it becomes not just bad but slightly ridiculous – like, for example, works with themes made during totalitarian and communist regimes. If you want to participate in a war, you won't go to photograph it; you'll go to fight.
For me, art that has been grafted with the rules of advertising is rejectable. If you simply produce information, you are a reporter. However, this has been lost because television and the internet hold great power. We know, after all, that everything can be done with editing. Since good journalists don't do literature, why should a good photographer for the newspaper do artistic photography? There was an attempt by some good English newspapers to illustrate each article with a photo unrelated to the text. I will refer to Kyros, of Estia, who had a very small newspaper with three pages and placed a series of photos completely unrelated to the news at the end, like a photo exhibition.
Photography is not something given for the one who took it. It's not coincidental that Garry Winogrand made the huge folly of not developing his photos because he wanted to distance himself. He did this because he didn't want to be close to the moment he took them, tragically... dying young and not seeing his last 4,000 films. I'm not saying we should reach this extreme, but you need to view them from a distance, and here the presence of another person whom you trust helps. The photographer won't become famous because as his own eyes improve, so does his cultivated audience become smaller.
Today, I'm in favor of exhibitions, whereas I wasn't in the past because the arrogance bothered me. However, if someone can maintain their modesty, exhibitions are good to have because through them, you expose yourself to others' eyes, and the exhibition can function as a pause. A book serves the photographer's need to record some points of his journey, knowing beforehand that it's almost impossible to cover its costs. If a photographer wants to engage professionally with photography in any way, he will probably make his photography suffer.
I love the art of the past; I don't have the power or ability to find something so significant nowadays. If I don't humbly do what I do, I will inevitably end up in pseudo-smartness, and I consider the effort for something new, which merely impresses someone superficially who cannot judge, shameful.
There are two stages of photography. The first is when you photograph, the second when you are alone and look at the photos. You photograph what moves you, not what you see through your lens, and without thinking, you frame your shot and shoot. You see it for the first time later, at home. Then you see what you did and if it's exactly what you saw. However, there needs to be a transformation, and that's why, while we take many photos, few remain. You need to have the right criterion to be able to see the world and transform it.
The photographer who loves photography, whether he sees other people's photos or walks, feeds his art. So, the first thing is to love the medium, to photograph not to publish books or become rich. The second important thing is to photograph often and always exclusively by yourself – others distract you. Also, it's important not to photograph for many hours because you lose the intensity you need to see the world. That's why photography is difficult, but that's also why it's interesting. A teacher is not someone who will teach you five technical tricks; he is someone who will give you confidence in your photography and explain why it's good or needs improvement.