Friends and Photography: Thanassis Apostolou
by Nandia Foteini Vlachou
Pythagoras planned it. Why did the people stare?
His numbers, though they moved or seemed to move
In marble or in bronze, lacked character.
But boys and girls, pale from the imagined love
Of solitary beds, knew what they were,
That passion could bring character enough,
And pressed at midnight in some public place
Live lips upon a plummet-measured face.
William Butler Yeats, The Statues (published March 1939)
[Thanassis is a contemporary artist, a title he would sneer at. He thought art was a way to avoid work, but ended up working day and night anyway. His house is a glass fort up on a hill, and he lives there in a sort of self-imposed, feverish isolation, always dressed in black. At least, that is how I imagine him. But do not take that description seriously – he certainly doesn’t. This picture was published in a book with 23 others – the stagnating water reminded me of numbers, and since they represent Delphi marbles, Yeats’ Statues was an oddly fitting choice. He also told me once he would record for me a reading of Tsirkas’ The Club, the first volume in the Drifting Cities trilogy. I have not forgotten]