Vertical Time
In the spring of 2010, I traveled to my birthplace in Athens to collect photographic material for Vertical Time, a body of work exploring the process of transformation. To establish a visual vocabulary of abstract concepts, I turned to symbols and archetypes from my Hellenic roots. Soon, Persephone came forth as a haunting, unanticipated presence. I searched for her -- the essence of the soul of humanity -- in Athens, in the ancient cemetery of Keramicos, but she was nowhere to be found; the city was in turmoil. I traveled 450 miles to the Oracle of the Dead, the Nekyomanteion of Acheron.
Homer, in the Odyssey, referenced this site as the ruling seat of Hades and Persephone of the Underworld. I descended into the underground crypt with its fifteen arches carved in rock: moldy darkness, overwhelming silence. All I could hear was my heartbeat. The light meter could not register measurable light. How was I to capture any images, her presence?
I was looking for Persephone at a particular moment in time: not the innocent young girl who has been abducted, but not yet the powerful queen of the Underworld, who would become the equal of Hades, judging the souls of humans. My Persephone is transforming; she is about to take the glistening, seductive pomegranate seeds Pluto offers. I asked my logical mind to look the other way, murmuring "if it be your will." I placed my beloved vintage Rolleiflex on the muddy floor of the crypt, set the self-timer and walked toward the deepest crack on the wall, relinquishing control in surrender. Later, with a profound sense of gratitude and humility I saw that images had somehow been inscribed on the film. And my highly idiosyncratic definition of the adjective Persefoneia came into sharp focus.