Ten Days in Greece is the first in a series of exercises centered around world-building within a designated space and time.
Ten Days in Greece.
Maybe more, maybe less; the specifics don’t matter. It’s the feeling. Just long enough to shake the jet lag, just long enough to slip into a new rhythm; not quite long enough to grow fully accustomed to the dance. Bold proclamations regarding the mystique of uncharted territories have rightfully diminished, alongside the influence of conquering powers on our perceptions of place.
Though we are perhaps more aware than ever of so called hidden gems, thanks in part to the preponderance of influencers ever in search of the next hot thing, there are those for whom hype is the antithesis of what they seek. For those fair few, the ideal vacation is a glimpse of a path not taken – total immersion into a life not their own. Tourist attractions are anathema to these travelers; they seek instead the quiet competence of a local hole in the wall, the ease and conviviality of the corner store bodega. It was in search of these elusive ends Ten Days in Greece came to be - an attempt to photograph an achingly beautiful milieu as if it had long since become familiar. That is to say, without direct reference to it.
Instead, I sought to create an atmosphere of quiet desuetude, of unkempt hedges and abandoned structures; the till, the yoke, laid down, reins slipping through an open palm; unburdened, walking, slowly, towards the sea, to revel.
To rest.