Greece
Land of Light
Nicholas Gage (text)
Barry Brukoff (photographs)
Bulfinch Press, New York, New York (USA), 2003 (1998)
160 pages
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I have always been somehow intrigued by the Anglo-Saxon fascination
towards anything related to Greece. Yes, you read right. I did say
Anglo-Saxon, and not simply American, for it is an attitude I also
encountered during the years I lived in Ireland, and that I also saw reflected
in the British media I was exposed to back then. It is something that
goes way beyond the simple and more familiar idealization of a well known
turistic location. It is, for instance, far more comprehensive and pervasive
than anything the Hawaiian touristic industry could dream of. When the
English-speaking world thinks of Greece, it does not only think of a nice
destination for our vacations, but also as the supreme embodiment of a
wisdom that has supposedly been growing in the Mediterranean for thousands
of years. They do not only dream of the sea, the white houses and the
mild climate, but also of a slower, wiser lifestyle, strong family ties,
good meals carefully cooked with fresh ingredients, livable towns, hours
spent at the cafes talking about everything under the sun... In other
words, they think of a romanticized Greece that it may indeed exist but
whose darker side is consistently ignored in the name of expediency and a
need to have at least one dream that seems to be somehow achievable. Mind
you, I have never been to Greece, but being a Spaniard it certainly does not
take much effort to see this sort of idealization under the surface of so
many perfect movies, books and pictures. How else could one interpret
paragraphs such as the following?
Love of country is a major chord in every Greek's character, and the pain
of xenitia —living away from the native land— is the
subject of many sad songs sung by Greeks of the diaspora. Like Antaeus,
the giant who lost his great strength when he was not touching the earth,
the Greek who lives far from his country is in pain until he can return to
his roots. There is a saying: "The most painful experiences a Greek can
know are to be an orphan, to be alone, to be in love, and to be away from
Greece. And to be away from Greece is the worst of all".
(p. 12)
Does anyone know the absence of this love of country anywhere? Who
does not consider painful to be an orphan, to be alone or to be in love?
The author is definitely taking things a little bit too far here, and
something quite similar can be said of descriptions like this:
Seeing the intensity of the Greek light, which tolerates no half-tones, no
secrets, setting every object ablaze with significance, is the cornerstone to
understanding Greece. The ancient Greeks found it natural to discover
metaphysical meanings in everyday objects and to personify abstract concepts
in physical form. Apollo was the personification of light and of learning.
In Hellenistic times, every stream and tree harbored the spirit of a naiad
or a nymph. Today, the most unlettered Greek still senses the god behind
the man, the eternal truth behind the most humble object. He looks at the
earth, the sea, the sun, and sees infinity.
(p. 27)
Let me clarify something. I can perfectly see the attraction of the Greek
light, but even though I have never seen it something tells me it is not so
different from the Italian, Spanish, Turkish, Moroccan or Algerian light.
In other words, the author may be referring to the Mediterranean light,
which I certainly miss from here in Minnesota. It is quite difficult to
describe, but the quality of the Mediterranean light is very different. It
seems to invade it all, even during the winter. It does bathe reality in
such a different way that it has an effect upon one's spirit and overall
attitude to life. Still, deriving metaphysical meanings and abstract
concepts from the mere presence of such light sounds to me, once again, as
quite of an exaggeration.
In conclusion, the text from Nicholas Gage comes across as too positive
and exaggerated, way too close to a touristic brochure full of common places
and worn-out metaphors. It is, without any doubt, this book's weak spot.
It does indeed provide some overall context to understand the beautiful
pictures, but it does little else. Gage wrote the accompaniment, the
footnotes if you will, to a nice collection of pictures. Barry Brukoff's
photographs, on the other hand, while still full of common places, provide
a beautiful and impressive backdrop to the text to the point that it steps
to the front and becomes the star of the book (not that the original
intention of the authors was any different, judging by the significant
difference in quality between the text and the pictures). Nevertheless,
one also misses photograhps depicting modern Greece, urban life, something
that is not rural, decrepit and stereotyped. Sure, the authors
themselves warn us in the introduction that they intentionally left those
images out of the book, but one wonders how come anyone can dare title any
piece of work with the name of a country while purposedly leaving out a
significant portion of it.
Entertainment factor: 7/10
Intellectual factor: 3/10
Artistic factor: 6/10
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