The Lakkos streets are visceral and random, the brutalist buildings bulge amongst the abandoned
and derelict homes. It’s past midnight, a square is alive with people of all ages, dogs, cats and
scooters. The air is oily and sweet, everything is teeming with vitality, change, and a tirade of
images. The walls are alive with murals and slogans fading and fresh, the waiter wearing a face
mask is blasé and so familiar with me, the food main lines to every sensory pleasure, he brings me
cake on the house and raki that cuts through this soporific dream. It’s all conducive to bodily
thought, generous and vivid, milky and rank, pouring in. Diary excerpt 22.09.22
Locals laughed when this taverna opened 10 years ago, as ‘Lakkos’ means the pit, and was a
dilapidated district. However such places appeal to creatives, alternative lifestyles, and there was,
and still is, an anarchist community there. Artist and writer Mathew Halpin lives there and
approached the taverna and with some funds from the municipality. He set up the Residency to
collaborate on an urban regeneration project called 'The Lakkos Project'. The aim was ‘to bring
creativity and life back to a fascinating neighbourhood’. They have brought street art, music/ film
festivals, restoration of old house facades and performance art to the area. The dilemma of such
invigorating projects, is they can instigate gentrification and house prices go up. They have been
accused of this and this is a complex subject for now. But for me I rarely find such a vibrant,
authentic and positive place. There are still many empty and derelict buildings, but there are new
homes and businesses and there is proper diversity in this genuine community.
Overlooking Heraklion from the Venetian Wall
I was attracted to this residency because it encourages artists to make murals and I wanted to
work on or with the broken city walls. Matthew warned me some murals can be defaced or
graffitied over. This appealed to me even more. Im inspired by the layered history in Greece and
even the iconoclasm of opposing cultures and beliefs. Before I arrived the city walls of Heraklion
sparked my imagination, but when there I felt ambivalent about painting upon someone else’s
place. I felt I had to get under the skin of this place as best I could and over the 7 weeks so many
notions were challenged and ideas evolved.
Inside abandoned Heraklion buildings
The residency has got a second house in a mountain village. I spent the first week alone there
and then travelled the island to immerse myself in Crete. For over 35 years I’ve travelled so many
times across Greece. 15 years ago as a family we stayed in Crete and Ive been wanting to return
and it’s the mountains there that personify it’s unique culture, land and history. This residency was
about trying to understand why Greece inspires my work and has shaped my life.
View from mountain retreat- Ano Asites
At the village I found a smouldering refuse dump where everything is burned. Surrounded by
mountains, pine trees and a nearby graveyard, it was a theatre for a dystopian play on ecology. In
the UK we send much of our waste abroad, but the air in Greece is laced with a hint of decay.
With the flora, balmy heat and fauna, It’s part of its visceral perfume. On many mountains there
are plateaus that dead horses, goats and pets are taken for the vultures to recycle. With the bright
colours of oil paint I began to make symbols upon ash coated objects and they became
topography for ‘Mum’. On an undistinguishable pile of smoking rubbish littered in dusty beer
bottles, the lines and curves wrote out ‘Dad’. Artists tend to be drawn to the visual spectacle of
decay, death or disaster and I did draw upon a sadness that often shaped my time there. Drawing
like that felt like being a child, and the interaction felt like a requiem to all we have desecrated.
'Dad’ and ‘Mum’ Typography on refuse dump and stagnant pool
But moments later I’m walking and Mantzourána (Marjoram) to Dáfni (Laurel) pervades the
ravines, the warm gentle rain releases the perfumes of Dentrolívano (Rosemary) or
Faskómilo (Sage) and the dry ochre of the earth blooms into a deep terracotta. I remember
drawings i made as a student on the Norfolk coast with estuary mud and decided this earth is the
pigment I need now.
I knew Crete would be littered with abandoned buildings and I could make expansive paintings
with earth and water on the concrete walls, but inside. This answered my worry about paintings
on the community streets. If I didn’t use a binder the images would naturally erode and I could
work spontaneously and without expense or fuss.
But further on my walk I discovered this villa below. I learnt later it was owned by organised
criminals and had been confiscated by the authorities. Villagers didn’t want to trespass its
foreboding garden walls and it had been empty over 10 years. A lurid green swimming pool,
(previous image), and marble floors littered in broken glass, smashed up formica and epic views
over the valley. This would be my studio for the next week and future trips. The whitewashed
plastered walls were the ideal canvas and I was overjoyed.
Abandoned Villa and Pool, surrounded in pomegranate trees
I wanted to make spontaneous images in response to the location and from my immediate
experiences and feelings, stories heard and the nature of the particular earth, without any direct
reference material or studies. In the basement a large room (20-30 ft wide walls ) offered the idea
of a circular frieze. I wondered what image would be most appropriate with earth, here, and with the erotic
images seen in museums there I thought about a frieze of lovers. Beginning in one corner with a
figure that would suggest the next I was surprised how well the mud solution took and how
pleasant it was to wipe the forms into shape with a selection of washing up pads. The image
below shows one wall, but the others became more graphic. I was concerned
they might be discovered by locals or children, so later I washed them away. However, this led to
more mysterious images and another direction for me to develop.
‘Foreplay’ Frieze around room - Earth and water on concrete wall
I then travelled around the island for a week, and because I’m there to work, everything is different
to a holiday. The conversations, churches, museums, animals, walks, food, sea and climate all
become interconnected but over loaded. The medium of earth and water could absorb all these
influences. I fell victim to endless photographs but managed to edit them whilst drinking the raki
after evening meals. By stripping colour, cropping and filtering them, they became simplified
forms that registered with the raw sensory impact of the fauna, flora, rock faces and rivers.
Manipulated Photos of Mountains, Plants, Animals
I was then heading back to Heraklion, a grimy city, full of concrete, people and noise. After the
intoxication of nature and solitude I was questioning being based there. But the residency set up
proved to be perfect. With 4 -6 artists at one time, the social dynamic kept changing. You could
do stuff together or do your own thing. Each artist from different countries and ages is personally
invested in making the most of the experience. From artists using textiles to performance,
painters, writers and musicians. They are all discovering places to visit and bring stories that we share
at meals with a lot of laughter. Mathew has created a relaxed and informal atmosphere that is a
relief.
I walked all across the city and like a kaleidoscope it kept changing. I’d seen exquisite Venetian
towns but they are over run with tourists and the picturesque. Here there are muted, even turgid
colours, bleak spaces and chaotic compositions - but the city is rampant with energy, change and
potential. It's a fortress city, the Venetian wall writhes through, imposing and awesome. Once you
are up there, it opens up a whole new perspective. Like a public park with trees, seats and a
memorial garden to writer Nikos Kazantzakis, and space to see the sports stadium nestled beside
it, the mountains, the bay and the shocking sea of concrete block homes. It’s ugly but with
everything else up there I loved Heraklion and felt inspired to make the mud paintings.
Abandoned and Unfinished building on Heraklion Seafront
I searched out abandoned buildings in which to make them, any that I can sneak into may well
have drug addicts in, some are hang outs for kids that adorn every wall with graffiti. But some
have become dwellings for refugees. This again is too big an issue to cover here, but just one of
the most potent thoughts came from a truly inspirational aid worker. He said a major threat for
these communities is psychosis, due to the constant stress, poverty and alienation they undergo.
This haunted my time there and was the first time I really witnessed what we hear on the news.
Greece is on the frontline of this catastrophe, and has always been so important in trade, culture
and wars. With the Nazi atrocities committed in Crete reeling in my head and those in Ukraine,
I was feeling very bleak under the euphoria of this creatively generous residency.
I then spent many days in this monolithic dungeon making a triptych. Based on the above and the
gun culture there and in so many countries. A recent village wedding had ended with the bride
dying from all the gun fire. The earth lent itself to direct graphic forms that carried the essence of
bodies. By just depicting parts of bodies and their extended arms into guns, a fractured
composition arose. The pervasive image of the Minotaur led me to think of animal slaughter and
the clearing of jungles for beef and so I depicted what I felt sad about.
'Reprisals' - Earth and water on concrete walls
‘Slaughter house' and ‘Don’t shoot the Messenger' Earth and water on concrete walls
It felt like being child again and painting being a natural instinct without the baggage of ‘making
contemporary art’. It had no purpose other than itself, and no audience apart from the kids,
addicts and homeless that might visit. There was a liberating sense of being fully occupied and
lost in the experience. Some kids did break in and were terrified when they saw me covered in
red, ‘why do have blood on you?’ they asked when they ventured back as a group. When I said I
was painting they kindly advised me not to touch anything as there can be needles around and
that the police wont like me, either.
After a week in there, and ruminating on our lust for killing, surrounded in a sea of plastic bottles, I
had to find some solace. This came from an abandoned textile factory overlooking a desolate
beach. I painted ‘Blood bank’ there on an outside wall, alongside other images. With the balmy
breeze and waves, I was thinking about friendship groups and families. Many young people smoke
from hookah pipes together, so I used that as a way to convey a deep primal union with each
other and animals.
‘Blood Bank’ Earth and Water on Ex Factory concrete walls
Throughout these times I was also making portraits on A4 tracing paper in oil paint of the
residency artists, statues, strangers from old photographs and my own family. These were laid
over collages I had gathered from burnt papers, dissected fig leaves, rusted metal and street
detritus. I called them ‘Under the Skin’ and I was able to show these in an informal exhibition at
the end of the residency.
'Under the skin’ Series, Oil on Tracing paper over Collage
Finally, I decided I would make a mural for the Lakkos streets.
We had been regularly eating and socialising at the wonderful Communist cafe there, a place for
debate, music and friendships. The owner wanted a mural and so I worked from all the B/W photos
that memorialise the cafe walls. Poets, singers, painters, thinkers, philosophers, actors, campaigners,
but also resistance fighters, and an image of one of the 400 Cretan soldiers that were executed one
horrific day by the Nazis. Also portraits of Rosa Luxemburg, the revolutionary socialist and anti war
activist tortured and killed in 1919, and Zak Kostopoulos, aka Zackie Oh, the LGTBQ activist murdered in
Athens, 2018. They are all flanked by the owner and the waitress. I wanted to acknowledge this
degree of hatred but create some kind of homage to these brave, inspiring and beautiful people,
and use a cohesive palette and rhythm to convey a sense of solace and peace.
This summer it was a joy to see it again, bedded in and well preserved, amongst the discussions
of such generous and thoughtful people. I’ve been taken back to an extraordinary time, and rather
than make a lot of work I've been trying to reflect on what’s next for my work. I did another
residency last year in Paros, Greece with similar levels of inspiration and wonder, and I'm working
toward the ideal group show in Athens this autumn. So, I’m thinking how I can spend more time
in a country that seems to have so many answers for my painting.
I’m hoping to write another post about how this transformation seems to be happening and share
how deeply rewarding residencies can be for artists and creatives of all kinds.
‘Commune' 2022 Mural
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Jesse Leroy Smith teaches on several of our online courses, including Modern Portrait Online, Inspired by Leonardo and several of our Online Life Drawing sessions.