'Monemvassia is a medieval fortress with an adjacent town, located on a small peninsula off the east coast of the Peloponnese in the Greek prefecture of Laconia. Remains include the defensive structures, the small adjacent town and Byzantine churches.The founding of the town and fortress of Monemvassia most probably occured in the 6th Century CE, by people seeking refuge from the Slavic invasion of Greece'
Kosti, I'm really glad my photo brought back such strong memories to you! :-)) i have some more slides from Monemvassia but they're not scanned - i had only this one scanned,for a friend who wanted it in digital form. I had uploaded this same photo, entitled 'Monemvassia', but when I saw it moved to the 3d page with [Comments:0 ,Views:0] I removed it from the site and uploaded it later giving it the title of a Norwegian song that I have no idea what it means. I'll go check your portfolio now ;-) bye
I've measured it stone by stone, sweat on it; I've climbed it and sketched it; photographed it and painted it; I've played on its pathways, fell in love and got drunk by its scents; your photo brought it back as fresh as if it was the very first time;
the poet says it all :
"structure under structure, the churches under the houses. belltowers above the houses. how deep in the rock the fig tree roots lie? which branch of wind holds the golden feathered angel; we'll climb up stepping on the shoulders of the dead, with the soil in our breasts, in a passage of ruins and with wild fig trees lying along their temporal path; silent; unanswered, with their wide hands locking the echo of the burried bell." (CONTINUING LEVELS)
or in another one from the same collection of poems with the title MONOVASIA:
"The rock; nothing else. The wild fig tree and the iron- stone. Armed sea. No space for dishonest worshiping. Infront of the Elkomenos Gate red porfyr within the black. The old women with their cauldrons whitening the longest drapery of history that hangs from the fourtyfour Byzantine arches. The sun cold friend with his spear against the fortified walls, and death, left with no destiny within this enormous lighting where the dead interupt, every now and then, their sleep, with canon salutes and rusted lamps; ascending, descending stairs and stairs, carved in the stone. Their flints fire at the edge of their palm; they sparkle. I-he said- I'll climb even higher, over the soft continuity, stepping on the dome of the big submerged church with the lighted, burning candleholders. I with the blue bone, the red feather and the pearl white teeth." (THE PATH OF THE POET)
(both poems by YIANNIS RITSOS, the tranlation attempts mine from long ago)
kosta, excellent work; I would love to see more of this, if you have a series. kosti
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B:)liana {K:30945} 5/25/2004
You made a canvas of it. great view, but the bell is kind of distracting me dear Kostas, but as more as I look, I love it. great! Kisses, Biliana and be happy my dear Friend!
i'm in love with the curves in this image, from the hill to the bell... they really play on each other very well. only, my kt could see something like this through his lens. such a smart composition and you know i'm going to adore the color and texture :) youve made this image your own and i love YOU for that.
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