Today I celebrate my being surrounded by my favourite colour, Blue! Wherever I turn my eyes I see blue, blue sea, blue sky, a blue house, blue boats. Pure natural blue in all shades. I am lucky and thankful that I live here.
Blue is the colour of Greece, even our flag is blue. Politicians in other places may claim the name of the “blue country” but Greece is really the one. The whole country, especially the islands, is surrounded by the sea.
The colour of the sea is slightly different in each island. It has to do with the way the light is reflected, the light of Greece that artists talk about. We cannot easily live without it.
It will soon be exactly twenty years since Ioannis Stathatos moved to Chios island, to my village. About six months earlier he had decided to retire to an island. He loved the sea and wanted to be near the water for the rest of his life. So, he came to Chios, went around the island and found a place which could house his new life, including all his ‘toys’, as he called his tools. Tools were very important as he had always been a ‘maker’ and he would need them to fix up his new house. Back in Athens, he worked hard to fulfill the orders he had for looms, before leaving in April 2001.
Ioannis Stathatos was born in Athens, grew up in Plaka, the old part of the city, below the Acropolis rock which he could see from his bedroom. In the 1950s he went to England to study Textile Engineering. There was a reason for it as his father had a very successful business selling textiles.
When he returned to Greece he designed fabrics, blankets, etc. and had them produced. He then spent a few years abroad. Back in Athens, he set up a business importing coffee. All these years textiles were part of his life, in one way or another. He had also made a loom to weave on at home.
One day he received a visitor who happened to see that loom in a corner of the house. That man was working at EOMMEX (Greek handicraft organization). He immediately told Stathatos to start making looms for other weavers, too. The loom was a jack type one, the kind of compact handloom closer to the industrial machines in the way that the harnesses are raised, the beater is pivoted from the base, and very suitable for multi-harness weaving.
Before selling the coffee business and coming full circle to textiles again, by making looms, he did research. He went around visiting weavers to discuss their problems with the looms they were using. Then he designed the looms that made him well known in our weaving world. He wanted to make ‘machines’ that would help weavers make a living by working for several hours without hurting their bodies. The looms were strong, compact to fit in today’s spaces, easy to work on without needing extra strength. There were many small details that made all this possible and he kept developing these details. His textile engineering knowledge and his ability to solve problems helped him with this.
Until then (early-mid 1980s and later) all looms made in Greece were made by carpenters who did not know much about weaving. They were mostly copying existing looms, either our traditional village looms or looms from abroad (the ‘Armenian’, the ‘Norwegian’, table looms etc.). No-one had designed a loom from scratch.
Stathatos used to say that “A handloom is a machine in wood, primitive by today’s standards but still a machine”. He did not consider himself a carpenter (“I only know how to make looms”) and he did not use the traditional ways of working with wood (“Why do you make it in this way? We have always made it in this way”). Instead, he developed his own techniques which made his ‘machines’ stronger and his work easier on his body. He never followed an idea or a way of making something without analyzing it and then developing it to make it his own (“… and I can tell you why”). He had a sharp mind that helped him with this. He was also very hardworking, never afraid to try new ways, always working alone because no-one could easily catch up with the speed that his mind and body were working.
During the last 17 years of his professional life, as a loom maker, he designed many types: the basic loom (an excellent very strong all-purpose loom), the heavy type (heavy duty and the best and only loom to have for all types of weaving, fine to very heavy), the jack type, the dobby, tapestry, carpet, table looms and many weaving tools. Not long before retiring he designed a horizontal carpet loom, a loom that could accommodate the extreme tension needed on the cotton warp to weave wide pile carpets. Unfortunately, very few of this type of loom were made.
During those 17 years in Athens, I was a good client of Stathatos, had bought 7 of his looms. I needed many looms when I was teaching and had many by other makers, too. I could compare them then, and so did my students from many parts of the world.
And then I met him again here, on Chios. I remember him telling me that “The loom helps weavers to bring out the artist hidden within them”. I also remember him telling me that he had been the happiest business owner during his loom making years because he had to deal with very nice people, weavers. As far as I know, his clients liked him, too. Some of his clients were bigger state and privately owned weaving workshops. He was a very polite and generous person who used to pass on his weaving knowledge freely, spending a lot of time doing that. I still get his weaving tips passed on to me by other weavers. And people are still calling his family to have a loom made.
Stathatos spent his last twelve very happy years on Chios island. He made a lot of friends and left his mark here, too, not only on the weaving world. He continued to be the polite, helpful and generous person he had always been, gathering people around him, finding solutions to their problems, organizing parties. And he enjoyed the freedom of living on the island as much as he could, fishing, hunting, the sea, the countryside filled with the scent of mastiha and citrus trees.
It is already 8 years since he left this world but people still remember him. What pushed me to write this blog post was that a few days ago a girl at the super market was talking about him. Also that my lady butcher gave me a Stathatos recipe that she often passes on to her clients. Weaving and life become one.
P.S. Most of the photos were given to me by the Stathatos family, the photographers are unknown to me.
Somewhere, in a book, I once read “The sun rises in obedience to a universal law”. A sunrise means much more to me. A new day, a new beginning, being thankful that I am there watching it, beauty, change.
There is change from second to second, especially when the sun starts rising. And variety, every day is different, even when it seems to be the same. Just like everything in life.
A few weeks ago I received a beautiful present in the mail, the book “The Calligraphic Weavings of Palaiochori, Halkidiki”.
Palaiochori is a mountain village in Halkidiki, Macedonia, northern Greece. The book was printed after an open-air exhibition of the weavings at the square of the village, during Easter 2019.
This publication is full of beautiful photos of the weavings called calligraphic in the area. The designs are mostly flowers, especially roses, and were woven from about the end of the 19th century until the late 1980s.
The earlier, and finer, ones were called kilims and were used as bed covers or, in a smaller size, to wrap a child. Then, after the 2nd World War, they started weaving what they called rugs. They also made wall hangings to place near a bed, for beauty and protection.
They were weaving on horizontal looms in strips that were sewn together, narrower in the earlier times and wider later on.
What mostly touched me are the words of the weavers themselves. Here are some, from the interviews with the weavers, freely translated from the book:
Rina Papathanasiou-Tsiountou, age 85
“I started weaving at the age of 14-15. My legs almost couldn’t reach the treadles. The loom was set up in the room we were sleeping in. ………… My first weaving was a woollen blanket in blue. After that one I wove blankets in various colours, for myself and my sister. ……………… I wove my first calligraphic woollen rug in 1954. That is when it became fashionable to make rugs for the dowries. ……………. We were weaving in wintertime because during the summer we were in the fields. We were waking up before sunrise and starting weaving, in order to be able to finish. We had to finish as quickly as possible. The rug to be copied, borrowed from another Palaiochori woman, had to be returned the soonest possible. There was always the worrying that nothing should happen to a small fortune in someone else’s house. The sound of the loom was heard from all the neighbourhood houses. In the early morning darkness and the quiet of the village, only ‘gap-goup’ could be heard. Across the street, aunt Marigouda Tsouloufina was weaving, she had to make dowries for two daughters. Anna Makavou had to prepare three dowries. We were stopping for lunch and then we worked until the evening. I was taught the calligraphic weaving by my neighbour Anna Makavou. ………………………………………………………… I worked at the loom for many years, mostly to sell. The yarns that the traders were giving us were not handmade, like the ones we were spinning for the dowries, they were factory made. ……………………………… Later on, from 1976 to 1979, I wove my daughter’s dowry. I made two rugs and gave her my mother’s yellow kilim. In 2001, I set up a loom again because I had saved handspun yarn. Until 2003, I made four weavings for my son’s family, all calligraphic.
I was the last weaver in Palaiochori.”
Pelagia Papastoikou-Tsiourli, age 80
“The calligraphic weavings that we were making at my time, were easier than the calligraphy of our mothers. My mother’s dowry was two yellow kilims, with dense roses and other flowers. She sold them during the big hunger of the 2nd World War, to feed her family. She was very sad that she had sold them, but also grateful because no-one in her family got hungry, thanks to this small fortune in her dowry”
Haido Kalogria-Tziourtzioumi, age 77
“At the age of 15-16 I started weaving. We already had the loom set up in the house because my mother was weaving to sell. ……………. I started weaving my dowry, already engaged, at the age of 17. I wove cotton sheets, tablecloths, woollen blankets and calligraphic rugs. My rugs were all “Rose bushes”, I liked flowers in weaving very much. I did not make any rugs with geometric designs. …………. All my dowry was prepared within three years, until I got married. …………………………. With the calligraphic weaving we were ‘dressing’ the house. We were making the rooms beautiful. We just had a bed, a table and chairs. When we were spreading our rugs, hanging the wall weavings, the house was becoming calm and warm. From morning until the evening I was working to prepare my dowry. All the girls in the neighbourhood were working on their dowries. ………… with our heads down, we were counting all day in order not to make a mistake. The mistake had to be unwoven, because the design was losing its harmony. Calligraphic weaving was lonely work. If you were skipping something while counting, all the work was lost. ………. If you were getting the wrong warp threads or colours, you were destroying the balance of the design. You could add a design, change a colour, but you were always counting. Everything was arithmetic. ………………………………. While I was married with four children, a mother in law, I wove dowries for my two sisters. Then, in the 1970s, I started weaving my daughter’s dowry. ….
I loved the loom. I liked weaving. I was proud of the work I was creating. Can you believe it? I miss it.”
All photos I made from the book and that is why the quality is not so good.
“Calligraphic Weavings of Palaiochori, Halkidiki” co-ordinators: Michaleou F., Velliou K., Sfougaros G. 2020
‘Enjoy these moments, they will not come again’ my mother used to tell us. Later on in life, I started following her advice without realizing it. I started focusing on everything that felt right, no matter how small, and enjoying it. It is small things, like flowers, birds, fish, seeds, a smile, a good word, that make up our world, life.
Then, about a year ago, a video appeared in front of me, as if on purpose. It was Dewitt Jones’ TEDx presentation called ‘Celebrate what’s right with the world’. Since then celebration has become part of my enjoyment ritual. I try to celebrate everything that is right with my world. It may sound selfish (“my” world) but it is a good place to start.
Once, not so long ago, there was a man who loved the sea and wanted to live the rest of his life on the island. Then came a woman, she met the man and she also moved to the island. They got married in a tiny church in the countryside, bought a small boat and decided they wanted a little house near the port where their boat was moored.
So they built a wooden house, a place to bring together all their friends to eat, drink ouzo and souma (the local drink), talk and have fun. After the man “left” this world, the woman planted a cypress tree and started using the house as a retreat to read, make jewellery, weave her tapestries, be close to nature and walk near the sea. This is the story of the Blue House.
The plot, on which the house is built, is half filled with mastic trees. The place is perfect for independent minds who want to work creatively in a natural environment surrounded by light, have a pleasant place to return to after exploring the island, or spend quiet days near the sea and among mastic trees (the basic elements of Chios).
I miss my village. Because of the Covid-19 I am stuck in the big city. Spring makes it more difficult, but I shouldn’t complain. The streets in my neighbourhood are lined with trees and the smell of the citrus flowers is intoxicating. And I have the Acropolis to rest my eyes on. It is rather quiet and as there are not so many cars driving around I can hear the birds singing. But my “plan” was to spend Easter in my village. Plans proved to be just plans.
My real “village” is Athens, but my Chios one adopted me almost twenty years ago. It first adopted my husband, who found himself there by chance, and then I followed.
I am dreaming of walking around in the village, breathing the fragrant air (Chios is famous for it), talking to people, exchanging news, exploring the old and often abandoned houses. These houses have many interesting stories to tell me. But, to be honest, I often prefer to wonder about these stories, or make up my own. The truth can sometimes be disappointing.
All the houses in this castle-village are made of stone and each stone is interesting, unique, there are no two exactly the same. I can see the marks of the human hands that shaped them and I think of the people who carried these heavy stones on their backs or on the backs of their donkeys or mules. When I first went to the village there were only two donkeys left, now there is none. Progress!…
But the village is not just stones. It is surrounded by beautiful nature with mastic trees, wild flowers and bushes, gardens with flowers and vegetables, vineyards and, a little further away, the blue sea.
People are the most important “ingredient” in a small community, the friendships made and the way they help each other, especially in bad times. And I miss them.
About two years ago I wrote a post about my studying tapestry weaving in Provence, France with Daniel Drouin as my teacher. I thought that I had finished with that subject, after all what more would I have to say about it?
It seems that we weavers do not only save a lot of yarn but also a lot of “information” about the subject we love. I am one of the worse ones among us saving photos, articles, magazines, bits of paper with notes (after I have copied the notes in a notebook), books, many books…
These last days I have had the chance to go through a lot of the “information” trying to get rid of as much as I can before packing it in boxes. I am moving to a smaller place and instead of packing I am reading.
Today, among all my little “treasures” I found photos, post cards really, of my teacher and a card of one of his tapestries that his wife had sent me with her recipe for pate. Denise Drouin was preparing excellent meals for us, her pate was included in several of them.
So, here are the photos, I wanted to share them with you before they go into a box. I will not “get rid” of them, but it will take some time until they are unpacked. And I may not be online for quite a few days after next week.
All black and white photos were made by Pierre Ricou in 1974.
Twenty four years ago Nikos Balatsos decided to make a new beginning in his life, in a place where he had never been before. So, he came to Chios from Karditsa (mainland Greece). All he knew about the island was that mastiha (mastic) was cultivated in the southern part of it, the only place in the world. Maybe that’s what brought him here, he says.
After school he started looking for something to study that would allow him to do creative work and be his own boss. Then he discovered ceramics. He went to Italy to a school for ceramics where, as a very young man, he also learned a lot about life. He is happy about his choice, now.
When he arrived to Chios he met good people who supported his decision to stay and find the right place for him. One day, by chance, he found an old half ruined olive press mill in Mesta. That is where he housed his ceramics workshop and set up a new life. Now he has a beautiful shop-workshop, at the entrance of the mediaeval village, with a sunny little courtyard where his clients sit and talk with him.
All his work is based on shapes. He forms the clay on the potter’s wheel and then shapes it again by hand, trying to extend it beyond its limits. Then comes the colouring. That is what makes his work even more personal. He works mostly in blues and greens mixing mineral salts and silver nitrate, using his own recipes. By changing even slightly the proportions of the materials, colours keep changing. Even the humidity in the air, he says, makes a difference. He feels humbled by all this, realizing that he knows very little although he has worked on it for so long. After all these years he keeps experimenting, making new discoveries, and learning. Every batch of ceramics is fired three times. Whenever a round of work has finished, he starts a new one.
Nikos’ work expresses, consciously or unconsciously, his experiences in life, his feelings, everything that’s inside him, even the weather, the environment, the light… That is why there are variations, so much depth, so many layers of colour. It is a pity that most of this is lost in the photos.
For the future, he wants to keep experimenting, making new discoveries and doing what he loves, for as long as he can. Life is good here. He ended up in one of the mastic producing villages, after all, in the southern part of Chios island!
For decades, I have been fascinated by the variety of traditional weaving produced all over the world. Most techniques are the same or similar. But the results depend on the types of looms and tools available in each area, the material used for warp and weft (cotton, linen, wool), the thickness of the yarn, the breed of sheep for wool, the colour of yarn used (natural or naturally dyed by plants growing in the area). Designs and colours are very much influenced by the environment and the light of each place.
During the 1980s I organized several courses every summer to teach the traditional Greek weaving techniques to foreign weavers. My students were of all weaving levels and from all the continents in the world. They learned a lot, not only about weaving but also about Greek life. And I learned a lot about weaving from more places than I can remember. I had a great time surrounded by weavers, nice people with common interests. I think that most of them were happy, too, since quite a few came back for a second course, some for a third.
The projects woven by the students were supposed to be as “Greek” as possible. But, usually, there was a touch of the weaver’s personality, and nationality, in the combination of the designs used, of the colours, etc.
Vourjias were the traditional “back packs” on many islands. We studied the ones from Crete because they were the most colourful and decorated ones, some so fine that they were almost works of art. Most of the “foreign touches” were in the combination of colours on the striped backs of the bags.
Flokatis are non-knotted pile rugs in wool (used as bedding in the early times). They are washed in a “nerotrivi”, a whirlpool of water which felts the wool and keeps the pile in place. We used natural coloured wool.
Naxos island is famous for the very decorated fabrics used everywhere in the house. Usually in white cotton, with red and blue loom- or weaver-controlled “embroidery”. This technique is used in other parts of Greece, too.
One can find kilim (flat) weaving almost all over the world. The differences are in the combination of warp and weft (cotton-wool, all wool, etc.), the thickness of the weaving, and the design. We wove in the thick quality, as practiced in Leonidion, Peloponnese.
In Greece, there was not much knotted pile carpet weaving, in the oriental way. But 97 years ago this art-craft was brought here by the Greek refugees who managed to come over and save their lives (Destruction of Smyrna, 1922). Historically, the coast of Asia Minor (western Turkey today) was inhabited by Greeks, a lot of the antiquities still there prove it. Most of the organised workshops of pile carpet production were owned by Greeks (Sparta, Smyrna, etc.), exporting carpets mostly to Europe. So upon arrival many new workshops were set up, in Greece this time, to fulfil the orders taken in Asia Minor, carpets were woven and exported. In our courses, we used the technique of the Greek refugees (material and knots). The rugs woven by the students were small, pile carpet weaving is a very time consuming technique, including the warping of the loom.
The photos are not of all the different types of weaving done in the courses, just some of them. Hopefully, one day I will have a slide scanner and I will be able to scan decades of weaving, costume, etc. slides.