Where Have You Been? was inspired by the story of my brother, who had been missing since the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1974 and found in a mass grave four decades later. A story that while it can seemingly be considered personal, in reality, is associated with the recent tragic history of Cyprus.
I wanted to address the issue through art, thus raising people’s awareness of this particularly striking humanitarian issue in an alternative way. Through the project, I sought not only to embrace aesthetic ways of looking at tragic events and painful situations but also to illustrate how art has the power to deal with painful human emotions and at the same time negotiate issues of politics, history and memory.
361, decotex, aluminium frame, 170×300 cm, 2017
With Love Yiannakis, c-print, forex, 92×60 cm each, 2017
With Love Yiannakis, neon lights, 45×60 cm, 2017
Dialogues, c-print, forex, 60×45 cm each, 2017
14081974, installation photocopies, 42×60 cm each, 2017
Jump and Shout, installation, photographic banners, 210×60 cm each, 2017
The trousers my brother was wearing when he was killed and metal pieces from his belt.
661-10/01-006B, c-print, 60×60 cm, 2018
Pixelized Memorials I, double face, decotex, aluminium frame, 100×140 cm each, 2018
Pixelized Memorials II, double face, decotex, aluminium frame, 100×140 cm each, 2018
Pixelized Memorials III, double face, decotex, aluminium frame, 100×140 cm, 2018
Pixelized Memorials IV, double face, decotex, aluminium frame, 100×140 cm, 2018
Pixelized Memorials V, c-print, dibond, 30×30 cm each, 2018
Pixelized Memorials VI, c-print, dibond, 60×60 cm, 2017
No tomb, no wreaths, no funeral speeches Under the shade of the olive-tree I looked at your watch silently and I saw time ceasing.
On that eleventh day of August your voice is fading away under the stones of Pentadaktylos your dreams are hiding behind the ears of grain, the bushes, the trees.
Here, where the landscape insists tactfully on unravelling its beauty, here, where silence coldly imposed cruelly, amongst strangers the meaning of loneliness is once more defined.
Without hesitation the final testimonies cry out, a photo in a newspaper-cutting and an assembled skeleton are all that is left.
Heroes, outdated ideals in old history books, literary recitations of learned orators, idols of young students in revolutions.
No tomb no wreaths no funeral speeches anonymous medals for those who dare die for freedom.