I have in mind the image of Alexander Papadiamandis as he was photographed sitting alone in front of a white-washed wall with the sun on his face. He clasps a bottle of wine in his hands and turns his face downward, avoiding the direct sunlight and absorbed in contemplation. It is the posture of a person who senses the secret wonder of the world, the simple truth which his love bequeathed to us alive through his work. I’ve heard that in his last hours Shakespeare and the Psalms stood by him. On an old, dark plank I have painted a closed notebook, a pencil and two glasses for wine, I hid two cigarettes behind the books and lit a candle to his memory. May he illuminate us. I am sending it as a gift to be exhibited in the town where I grew up, which makes me think of him.
Kastella, 25 October 2011
