Lava - Panos Kefalos

"Lava"

"A volcano’s flaming crater "

A daily walk – my routine – through the streets of downtown Athens, pacing up and down Omonoia square and all the little alleys my neighborhood has. The thrilling connection to random people random events random conditions. The friendships I strike up when I drift in this ever-changing city. ‘’Lava’’ is about all that.

It is about idle strolls repeated over and over again, always leading up to the same familiar places. I walk the streets following my instinct’s lead, following the natural impulses that drive my need for communication as well. Sometimes a passerby can win me over, others a building will – often the light throbbing between them is enough.

''Everything you see in ''Lava'' is an entry in a private diary, a record of my personal outlook on the city of Athens.''

Think of this series of pictures as of a circle drawn in haste on a map, trying to highlight a specific path in the city’s web: if you follow its suggestions you could either get lost or end up discovering the safest way home.

After an eruption lava oozes from the open wound of the mountain. As it flows downhill it cools down, becomes solid and finally rests, generating a shocking change in the surrounding environment: creating new shapes, new landscapes, a new natural system.

Vevian is shaving his head by himself. He lives in a narrow street near my house. His place looks like a makeshift tent, made of sheets, fabric and other material tied around a tree. He has hung, outside the ‘house’, a big wooden cross on a white cloth. He has to change his spot often, because of the neighbours’ complaints, but he never leaves the area.

Still alive.

The carnival burn down.

Masked man.

“Who brings cold weather?”, he asked me. “Jesus?”. I met Ioannis in wintertime and it was terribly cold outside: he was homeless and his feet were infected. I had a few conversations with him and I used to see him everyday sitting on a bench in front of a disused bus station. He slept there at night. Then I didn’t see him for a while, as if he had suddenly disappeared. When I inquired after him they told me he was dead: he had fallen one day from the bench where he lay, with no life left in him.