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EXPLORING OPEN STUDIOS IN A CLOSED CITY CROSSES MORE THAN THE GREEN LINE
Cyprus Mail, Cyprus
Nov 7 2006
JOHN Updike once wrote "What art offers is space". Of course, he
was talking about inner spaces, the spaces of the imagination and
ideas, to give voice to feelings and emotions that cannot be other
wise expressed.
But this weekend I literally found art in different spaces. A treasure
hunt through the old town of Nicosia on both sides of the Green Line:
like a party game of clues and adventure. It's been a journey into
alleyways and hidden corners, a chance to meet new people and make
new friends: a maze to find the amazing.
It started in Club Red on Wednesday night and since then I've been
wandering in search of studios. Getting lost, getting wet but mostly
getting to know this place more intimately: the interesting by-product
of Open Studios is that it makes you walk where you would normally
never walk. Wine offered, music playing, each studio as individual
as the artist. It makes you make the city your own.
My first open door was near Famagusta Gate, to the studio of Pola
Xadjipapa-McCammon and Christos Christou. Little red arrows drew us
down cobbled streets to find six people sitting round smoking and
drinking in an old house like a private party.
Shyly we entered and were immediately given a glass. I recognised
Christos' pieces, but Pola`s were new to me and what fascinated me was
a series she'd done on the Cyprus railway. I never even knew Cyprus
had had a railway. The conversation flowed with the wine, like a
private viewing all for us. But more than that, it was personal and
relevant. We asked and she answered, not a lecture or a pretentious
spiel, but a chance to understand the processes and the thoughts
behind a painting.
On Saturday night we walked down Perikleous Street, past the strip
clubs and red light joints, a road I'd normally avoid in the dark,
but just a few hundred metres down and the mood changed. First stop,
Nicholas Panayi's gallery, with a video installation of baklava
makers mirroring paper makers from China, a few steps further
was Lia Bouyiatzi's extraordinary space. Huge, larger-than-life
canvasses in black and white of nude women: women beautiful because
of their voluptuous vulnerability. There was something intimate
and inspirational about sitting over yet another glass of wine in a
studio rather than a gallery, paintings propped against walls, among
brushes and books. This project gives you a chance to understand the
personality of the painter in their environment. Nowhere was this more
apparent than on Sunday afternoon when we finally found, through a
torrential downpour, the absolutely magical studio of Ayhatun Atesin
near the Abrahamet Cultural Centre. We wandered at first, confused
by the map, into a derelict house full of mangy cats and old tin
baths, and then, sodden to the bone, saw the next house with its
walls of embedded ceramic shards. We knocked gingerly on the door,
and were greeted by the widest of smiles and the warmest coffee. And
the most extraordinary and beautiful sight: tabletops brimming with
perfectly formed ceramic shoes, like a Manolo Blahnik shop front or a
scene from Cinderella. They would be shipped the next day to Istanbul
for the opening of her exhibition "Silent Walk". But more than that,
the old house was an Aladdin's cave of delights: photos, pots, plates
covered in iridescent blues and hues of every tone. Her life's work,
on every surface a story, no need to talk, just look.
Opening studios within closed walls is crossing more than one divide.
It is opening not just doors but the opportunity to connect across
the line, physically and emotionally. Of course, there is sadness as
you walk, things you'd rather not see but are, nevertheless, reality.
We found ourselves wandering through the totally ruined Armenian
Church in Arabahmet, with its graffitied walls and broken spirit,
just paces from the artists' studios.
But for those who really want to reclaim their city, artists can give
hope, so get a map, take an open mind, and walk.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
Cyprus Mail, Cyprus
Nov 7 2006
JOHN Updike once wrote "What art offers is space". Of course, he
was talking about inner spaces, the spaces of the imagination and
ideas, to give voice to feelings and emotions that cannot be other
wise expressed.
But this weekend I literally found art in different spaces. A treasure
hunt through the old town of Nicosia on both sides of the Green Line:
like a party game of clues and adventure. It's been a journey into
alleyways and hidden corners, a chance to meet new people and make
new friends: a maze to find the amazing.
It started in Club Red on Wednesday night and since then I've been
wandering in search of studios. Getting lost, getting wet but mostly
getting to know this place more intimately: the interesting by-product
of Open Studios is that it makes you walk where you would normally
never walk. Wine offered, music playing, each studio as individual
as the artist. It makes you make the city your own.
My first open door was near Famagusta Gate, to the studio of Pola
Xadjipapa-McCammon and Christos Christou. Little red arrows drew us
down cobbled streets to find six people sitting round smoking and
drinking in an old house like a private party.
Shyly we entered and were immediately given a glass. I recognised
Christos' pieces, but Pola`s were new to me and what fascinated me was
a series she'd done on the Cyprus railway. I never even knew Cyprus
had had a railway. The conversation flowed with the wine, like a
private viewing all for us. But more than that, it was personal and
relevant. We asked and she answered, not a lecture or a pretentious
spiel, but a chance to understand the processes and the thoughts
behind a painting.
On Saturday night we walked down Perikleous Street, past the strip
clubs and red light joints, a road I'd normally avoid in the dark,
but just a few hundred metres down and the mood changed. First stop,
Nicholas Panayi's gallery, with a video installation of baklava
makers mirroring paper makers from China, a few steps further
was Lia Bouyiatzi's extraordinary space. Huge, larger-than-life
canvasses in black and white of nude women: women beautiful because
of their voluptuous vulnerability. There was something intimate
and inspirational about sitting over yet another glass of wine in a
studio rather than a gallery, paintings propped against walls, among
brushes and books. This project gives you a chance to understand the
personality of the painter in their environment. Nowhere was this more
apparent than on Sunday afternoon when we finally found, through a
torrential downpour, the absolutely magical studio of Ayhatun Atesin
near the Abrahamet Cultural Centre. We wandered at first, confused
by the map, into a derelict house full of mangy cats and old tin
baths, and then, sodden to the bone, saw the next house with its
walls of embedded ceramic shards. We knocked gingerly on the door,
and were greeted by the widest of smiles and the warmest coffee. And
the most extraordinary and beautiful sight: tabletops brimming with
perfectly formed ceramic shoes, like a Manolo Blahnik shop front or a
scene from Cinderella. They would be shipped the next day to Istanbul
for the opening of her exhibition "Silent Walk". But more than that,
the old house was an Aladdin's cave of delights: photos, pots, plates
covered in iridescent blues and hues of every tone. Her life's work,
on every surface a story, no need to talk, just look.
Opening studios within closed walls is crossing more than one divide.
It is opening not just doors but the opportunity to connect across
the line, physically and emotionally. Of course, there is sadness as
you walk, things you'd rather not see but are, nevertheless, reality.
We found ourselves wandering through the totally ruined Armenian
Church in Arabahmet, with its graffitied walls and broken spirit,
just paces from the artists' studios.
But for those who really want to reclaim their city, artists can give
hope, so get a map, take an open mind, and walk.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress