Antoniadis Lens
“This story has had its fill of pain,” says the song ‘Sasmos’ about Crete. More specifically, “sasmos” refers to the end of a vendetta—that is, the end of a conflict between two families—with very serious consequences for both sides.
My name is George K. Antoniadis; I was born in Thessaloniki, but I spent my teenage years in Chania. My own internal conflict between two sides of myself—“Chania vs. Thessaloniki”—ended a few years ago when I finally visited Chania again.
I visited Chania after many years, with an old friend. When the ferry arrived in Chania from the port of Piraeus (in Athens—the capital of Greece), my first reaction was to say “omg,” and then I took out my phone and snapped a photo.
Ever since then, I’ve visited many times—at Christmas, Easter, and in the summer—without that friend. I meet up with friends, take photos, and relax with my family.
What has changed since then?
It all started when I was a child, and I was “forced” to leave my hometown—the place where I had grown up and gotten used to living. The family I had back then fell apart, and I moved to Chania.
A question began to circle in my mind: “What if Chania were connected to Thessaloniki?” “What if my friends got to know my friends from Chania?”
But over the years, I would come to realize that this was an unattainable dream. Because people lived in different places, and it didn’t make any sense. Still, with my childish mind, I believed that something like that would make sense. Isn’t that right?
That’s how my childhood years went by. Making friends with other kids, playing video games, and learning new skills. Going to school and learning interesting facts. Forming friendships, breaking them off, and eventually forgetting my friends from Thessaloniki.
The question, “What would happen if my friends from Thessaloniki met my friends from Chania?” faded away. And another, more pressing question arose: “How can I make a name for myself at school as a teenager?”
Adolescence brought about a major change: I stopped asking “why” and started doing many things at once—learning, growing, making progress. But more than that, it brought a word that I would only come to understand much later: an illness.
An illness symbolized by the black-and-white of photography, rooted in faith and in both physical and mental illness. I won’t go into much detail about it here; I’ll just say that while others were forming relationships and friendships, I was struggling. I was struggling with “mythical” creatures and demons.
A long and difficult journey followed. I left Chania and returned to Thessaloniki, but that’s another story. I battled an illness that mental health professionals would call “bipolar disorder.”
I’m still battling it. But as you can understand, the duality creates feuds. The duality can also resolve feuds. It can become “you,” with the right work.
Reconciliation and “Sasmos”—the word that marks the end of the polarity of enmity—came through personal work, psychotherapy, writing, and lots and lots of photography.
And just like that, we’ve arrived at today. Or rather, at my first visit to Chania. Because from there on, it’s a whole other story. A different story ;)
Curated by: George K. Antoniadis
At: Chania
Taken with: Canon EOS 2000D and Samsung A53