Memories appear and disappear are remembered and filed away. Flashbacks, layers of meaning, revelations and re-examinations. This world is one and the same world of love and loss. All things exist simultaneously.
Animated Lightbox Arduino programming by ‘Radiance’ device, developed by my friend Paul Rudman.
Photograph of my father on Plexiglas. The poem below, written in three languages, English, Greek and Turkish, tells the story of many a Greek family after the Greco-Turkish war, when whole families were displaced because of their religious beliefs. The selection as to who was deported was based on religion, not ethnicity. It resulted in one and a half millions of Christians and half a million Muslims travelling towards ‘motherlands’ they had in most cases never visited. Many did not speak the language and had to contend with being strangers among people who did not readily accept them.
His worn hands
They would work another soil, another land, same job, same sweat; but the grapes would never be
as sweet for him. Acı üzüm, bitter grapes. He had little to say on this, his words were kept for the
olive trees and the sacks of raisins the cart,
Piled high like bodies
He did not live to see old age. Onun kaderi değildi, it was not his destiny, δεν ήταν γραμμένο, it was not written. It was his death sentence this ağrı this pain, these bitter tears, acı gözyaşları, τα πικρά δάκρυα for his hastily
Η νέα πατρίδα ήταν όμορφη, the new homeland was beautiful. But his eyes were fixed on the past. Η γιαγιά φορούσε μαύρα, Büyükanne Siyah giydi, grandmother wore the black clothes of a widow but the 6 children thrived somehow, tanrıya şükür, Δόξα τω θεώ, thank God.
New languages have taken over
Our dreams now
But we remember the sweetness of the old ones, Όταν πονάμε όταν προσευχόμαστε, όταν αγαπάμε...When we hurt, when we pray, when we love,
When we hope.