GEORGE SFOUGARAS ARTWORKS

The personal 'Maps' I started to draw these very simple personal maps. They emerged as a series of images in pen and ink on faces.  Then, my mind turned to places and experiences that I have held onto, echoes of my childhood and places half remembered. I started to literally reminisce as I drew and to my surprise, it was like recalling the past in visual form. The houses and images that emerged were much simpler than my usual work.  There was no reference other than my memory and as such the drawing became like recorded speech.  A kind of alphabet emerged: Boats became symbols of change and transition, waves signify a difficult road and trees stand for hope. Slowly, the symbolism merged with remembered details of places and people. It was in this organic way that my current work emerged and is taking shape. The ‘Map of Then’ is an amalgam of important places and feelings remembered and felt as if through the eyes of my younger self.  This contributes to the fe...

The Quiet Village. (A place of beauty and many other things).  You would think that living in an isolated spot somewhere in the mountains, in a village of less than 400 souls, would afford one a level of privacy which is not possible in the cramped Victorian Terraces of the English inner city. You would, of course, be wrong. Privacy is diminished by an interest in people, that frankly is non-existent in colder climes. People remember your face.  Your name.  What you do.  You may quickly acquire a nickname, which describes you to others in a place where everyone knows everyone. They say that sometimes you can hear a large village, before you see it!. Greek village life is not designed with quiet, or privacy in mind. It is a communal affair where due to the limited exposure to other entertainment, people are still seen as ‘interesting’.  The layout of the streets and the general planning, such as it is,  is not meant to separate people, bu...

Driving West At Sunset I drive west, still thinking of my time with my brother.  We had an impromptu lunch at his lovely home of stuffed vegetables (Gemista) and a nice chat. It was a special interlude and I felt rested and happy. I had no intention to do anything other than to drive back to ‘our’ village which lies towards the East and is a fair distance from Heraklion.  Instead, something compels me to drive in the opposite direction and a little adventure. I intended to visit a little monastery that I love. My first surprise was only ten minutes’ drive away, under a long and dull motorway bridge. Paleocastro or Old Castle. This is one of my favourite bits of Venetian engineering on Crete. A few kilometres west of the capital, it just blends into the Rock face and simply defies logic. I have always admired it. Today I decide to follow the sign to what I discover is an absolutely stunning beach beneath the cliff face. Only locals were swimming there, as no...