Friday, February 05, 2016

Karkavitsas: HIS FLUTE

Andreas Karkavitsas, “Η Φλογέρα του,” [“His Flute”], in Διηγήματα [Short Stories], Athens: Estia (1892), reprinted in Άπαντα, ed. Georgios Valetas, vol. 1, pp. 133-155. There is a digital (but slightly different) version of the text here.
---------------------

"His Flute" is the story of a newlywed Stathis and Smalto. Secretly, Smalto is thrown into disarray by her inability to resist a repulsive shepherd who seduces her by his flute-playing. Smalto's inner voice that tells the story struggles ethics of aesthetics. The affair is put to rest only when Smalto shatters the instrument of seduction. "The flute was small and golden with five black holes in its mouth and one more on the opposite side." Ήτο τω όντι η φλογέρα του Μήτρου. μικρά, χρυσίζουσα, με πέντε τρύπας μαύρας εις τα χείλη και άλλην μίαν εις το αντίθετον μέρος.

Seduction takes place in the fields where Smalto herds her ducks and the shepherd Mit herds his sheep. But the village plays an important role with its “numerous houses scattered here and there along a low hill.” At first, the houses resonate with life in celebration of its patron Saint Nicholas. But when the festival is over, and the workdays begin, the village is abandoned by its inhabitants working in the fields. “All the doors were shut and through the small windows one could see the darkness and abandonment inside.” οι ευάριθμοι οικίσκοι του, εδώ κι εκεί επί χαμηλής λοφοσειράς σκορπισμένοι, είχον τας θύρας όλας κλειστάς και από τα μικρά παράθυρα των εφαίνετο εντός το σκότος και η ερημία. [134] This is a helpful insight to consider. A Greek village would have been entirely empty for most of the day. Men, women, and children would be out in the fields.

In this silence, only the Melopoulos house stands out. Its newlywed bride Smalto is still inside. She refuses to go to work, to leave the village because she wants to avoid the shepherd’s temptation. Looking voyeuristically from the outside, the readier, captures this view. “The light of day entered already in abundance through the open door and window, from which Smalto was seen in the shadow with still sleepy eyes. With a heavy body, she turned the bedspreads one-by-one from the ground over a turned-over basket." Το φως της ημέρας εισέδυεν ήδη άφθονον από της ανοικτής θύρας και του παραθύρου, από του οποίου εφαίνετο η Σμάλτω εν τη σκιά με νυσταλέους ακόμη οφθαλμούς και βεβαρημένον το σώμα, εγείρουσα νωθρώς τας στρωμνάς μίαν – μίαν από του εδάφους και αποθέτουσα επί μιάς ανεστραμμένης κοφίνας. [134]

Karkavitsas uses architectural detail to articulate states of mind. And Smalto is not an ordinary villager. First, she is of Vlach descent -- like the shepherd. Second, and more importantly, she is a transparent medium of sensational experience. Her optic centering turns those experiences to fire. "She was a perfect mirror of a wild existence. Her person was extremely curious of sensing natural phenomena. She collected experiences and centered them within her as a lens centers the ray of light." Ήτο δε τέλειος καθρέπτης μιάς αγροδιαίτου υπάρξεως. Το άτομόν της ήτο υπερβολικώς περίεργον εις τας εντυπώσεις της φύσεως και τα υπέμενε και τας συνεκέντρου εντός της όλας, όπως ο φακός τας ηλιακάς ακτίνας. [137]

Then there is a wonderful description of the landscape, when Smalto goes out into the fields (too long to translate right now)

Ο ήλιος είχεν υψωθή αρκετά εις τον ορίζοντα, κολυμβών μέσω αργυρού αιθέρος πυκνοτάτου και περιέλουε τους θερισμένους αγρούς, τας πρασίνας σταφιδαμπέλους, τους βυσσινίζοντας βουνούς του Χελωνάτα και τα πέριξ όλα δι’ αφθόνου φωτός . τα χωρία κατέκειντο εδώ κι εκεί , με τας υπομαύρους στέγας και τους λευκοκιτρίνους τοίχους των οικίσκων των, εν αμόρφη όγκω, ως χορταριασμένα ερείπια. Ποίμνια έβοσκον παντού και βοών αγέλαι και ίππων εν συμβιώσει, ενώ ωρθούντο πλησίον αι σκιάδες των φυλάκων, με την [138] πιμήκη εκ ξηρών χόρτων στέγην και τους λεπτούς και στεβλούς στύλους των, ως μεγάλα καψαλά πτηνά, ορθούμενα επί των κατίσχνων ποδών των. Από πολλα μέρη ανέβαινον λευκοί καπνοί, ταχέως εξαφανιζόμενοι, και υπεφαίνοντο κάποτε γλώσσαι φλογών, ενώ αντήχει ο τριγμός του ξηρού χόρτου, καιομένου επί των αλωνίων. Τα βουνά προς ανατολάς εκρύπτοντο μέσω πυκνής ομίχλης και μόνον τ’ ακροβούνια ασθενώςν διεγράφοντο εις τον ορίζοντα, ως κομμένα χάρτινα συμμπλέγματα όπισθεν γαλανής υάλου. Κι εν τη νεκρική εκείνη της πεδιάδος ησυχία μόνον τα ξηρά χόρτα και τα φύλλα εψιθύριζον κινούμενα υπό του ανέμου, όστις έπνεεν από της θαλάσσης δροσερός – δροσερός. [139]

Smalto abandons herself in this landscape. Lying on the ground, her hands immersed into the clots of dirt, she shakes from the weight of her own body, as the muscles slowly relax. Karkavitsas' description is so somatic. Η χείρ της λυγερής επόνει τρυπωμένη επί των βώλων του χώματος κι έτρμεεν ελαφρώς απηυδηκυία υπό το βάρος του σώματος, χαλαρουμένου ολονέν. [140]

One of my favorite things about the story is also how Smalto herds her ducks, with the words Πίκιο, πίκο. το γαλί, γαλί, γαλιό [144]


A few words about location. Karkavitsas tells us that the story takes place in the village of Troumpé, which was renamed Demetra in 1953 (Location, 37°53'11.21"N, 21°13'16.01"E). The village is in the flat plains of Vartholomio and Gastouni. When Smalto goes herding, she seems to be heading east towards Kastro Chlemoutsi, where the terrain gets hillier and closer to the beautiful coast. The area presents an interesting topography (see Kourelis 2003, p. 254). Kastro Chlemoutis is the only landscape feature visible across the plain which it commands. Demetris Athanasoulis describes this area as the triangle of power in the Frankish Middle Ages (see Athanasoulis 2013). It has unique landscape sensibilities. I vividly remember stoping at Karkavitsas' village nearby and having a coffee with Demetris. The kafeneion was in the main street thoroughfare. It was such a unique feeling.

Another interesting location is referred to briefly, when the shepherd Metros narrates his story to Smalto. He is an outsider, an orphan, herding other's sheep for a living. His point of origin is from the lagoons around Kotychi, a different ecology altogether (a series of lagoons used for fishing but surrounded by forest). Μίαν ημέραν ο Μήτρος διηγήθη την ζωήν του, με δύο λόγια. Κατήγετο από τους Κατσαπαίους, οικογένειαν βλαχοποιμένων, κατασκηνούσαν πλησίον του ιχθυοτροφείου του Κοτυχιού. Οι γονείς του αφήκαν αυτόν ορφανόν πολύ μικρόν, εις την νάκαν ακόμη. ο πατήρ του απέθανον από τύφον, πριν γεννηθή αυτός. η μήτηρ του αμέσως μετά την γέννησίν του. ... κι εμισθώθη εις ένα κτηνοτρόφον εκ Σουλεϊμάναγα, του οποίου τώρα έβοσκε τα πρόβατα. [143]

Wednesday, February 03, 2016

The Wedding Photo: Lidoriki Object 116

In Summer 2016, a team of students photographed 136 objects from the Lidoriki Folklore Museum. Lizzy Wood, among the students, is currently working up this collection into a digital exhibition and catalog. Our process of writing up an academic catalog entry for each object involves an open-ended on-line conversation about what makes these objects interesting. Lizzy has given me the challenge of writing down some first thoughts. Here it goes.

A wedding photograph signifies the penetration of technological mediation in the lives of rural Greece. Portrait photography became a fundamental medium in late-19th-century socializing, through visitation cards, wedding or funeral images. Photographic studios opened in Athens but their story in provincial towns (like Amfisa) is less known. Photography played an additional pre-wedding role in Greek life through the phenomenon of “picture brides” during the
 great emigration of the 1890s-1920s. Single male immigrants in the U.S. had no access to eligible females. Co-patriots would send photographs of eligible brides from back home. These arranged long-distance marriages were the subject of a 2004 film Brides. This, of course, is not unique to Greeks and continues to play a courting role in migrant laborers across the globe (digitally).

But this is not a photo-bride, but a commemoration of the wedding day. It was most likely not taken on the actual wedding day, so it repeats the dress-up of that momentous event. The long exposure required in early photography necessitated the special lights that only a photo studio could make possible. Most of the early portraits are staged at the photo studio. Without electricity in homes, you could not have domestic interior photography until much later. Photo studios became both the place and the artistic agent for photography. In this process, the photo became an advertisement of the studio, which is why the studio is so prominently marked on the photo. Isn’t it interesting that the names of the wedding couple are not commemorated (and hence forgotten) but the name of the studio that photographed them is?

A few words about the studio. The studio of Euthymios Macheras was a prominent (perhaps the only) photographic studio in Amfissa, the closest city to Lidoriki. The Hellenic Literary and Historical Archive contains a number of the studio’s photographs of couples, children, urban scenes (available digitally here). We have no date for the wedding photo, but it fits in the 1910-1930 range. If we did a thorough stylistic analysis of the wedding fashions, we might be able to narrow the range. 



The “Euth. Machairas. Photographic Studio, Amfisa” label at the lower right corner is interesting as a work of graphic design (my sketch left). It uses cursive, ornate letters for the name of the proprietor, but technocratic capital letters for the declaration of function. Graphically, it is a hybrid of artistic flair (top) and bureaucratic regularity (bottom).


Rather than looking at the most obvious – the objects, clothes, insignia of ceremonial dress – I look at clues on the architectural setting. My sketch (left) is a projected ground plan of the photographed space. Looking at the lower part of the portrait, one sees two courses of stone and a carpet. This is clearly not an indoor studio setup up but a photo in front of an actual house, and, even more, a house with a side-walk, so an urban house. What is puzzling is that there is no vertical house wall on the background, which is white. It seems to me that the photographer draped a cloth over the front of the house to create a blank slate. Now this is interesting in that it turns the street into a studio. The photo looks like a professional studio installation, but it was taken outdoors. A close look at the ground information also shows a textile draped over the sidewalk and placed right in front of the couple’s steps. During the ceremonial walk of wedding couple from their homes to the church, villagers used to drape the streets with carpets so that they never stepped on anything but a domesticated soft surface (think red-carpet at the Oscars). The striped fabric in front of the couple is such a carpet. Its striped design is visible, showing the parallel mechanism of the loom production. Although the carpet is traditional, the form of commemoration (photography) is modern as are the shoes that will step on the traditional carpet, most fashionable white high heels for the bride and shiny dressy black shoes for the groom. How does this help us reconstruct studio practices in Greece. First, it suggests that urban photo studios travelled outside of the studio and took wedding photographs in-situ. If the photo was indeed taking in Lidorki, then it would have been taken along its main street that would have included a side-walk. Second, the itinerant photographer brought along a fabric that they hang over the front of the house to disguise its architectural specificity, focus attention on the figures, and make it look as if they stepped into a studio.


Paradoxically, this is exactly how we took photos of our Lidoriki objects. We hang a plastic sheet that was backed with a photographic white fabric. Here, you see, our impromptu photo studio from the Lidoriki Folklore Museum.

Finally, I am intrigued by the frame. It is divided in two complementary zones, a smooth lacquered wood inside that transitions smoothly into the glass, and a carved wood outside that comes from the world of painting. The outer frame is not machine made but carved. It includes patterns of roses, florets, and leaves (detail sketch above).


Blog Archive

Kostis Kourelis

Philadelphia, PA, United States