Thinking Greek!

I think I aught to try and fit some Greek into my weekly schedule, so to start me off I am reading out loud a poem I wrote in Greek. I am missing my lessons with the lovely Manolis, but I am glad to report that I have not totally forgotten how to speak Greek. I have my text book here in England, so it is just a matter of making time to study. Now let's see, maybe in between, cello practice and singing practice, or how about half an hour a day before blogging, no, wait a minute, I've got it, I'll shop on line and the time I save I will devote to Greek. There is always a solution. Anyway, here is today's effort, just to get me started.



Meanwhile, in Vrahassi, David tells me that he popped down to Yanni's for a bite to eat the other night. All is quiet in the village (nothing new there then) and the sun is shining.

The Animal Protection trans Europe van broke down in Italy, and there is a delay in sending Phoebe to the Isle of Man. David says he hopes it wasn't him that did that, because Phoebe is such good company. I'm sure it wasn't, and I am very sorry to hear of the breakdown. We are so happy to see that Percy and Maisie are so well settled and looking so happy.

And on the arty front, I think this exhibition will be worth taking a look at. I presume the apostrophe 's' in the main body of the report is a mistake in translation, get by it and look at the beauty of Nelly's work.

Out-of-town showcase of Nelly's photographs hits the spot

By Sandra Voulgari

A new exhibition of photographs by Nelly's, organized by the Benaki Museum's Photographic Archive and the Fotograficus art company, seems to have found the perfect loctation in the Long Room, a venue in Pikermi, east of Athens, that resembles a 16th-century monastery and is set amid lush greenery.

Photographs of nude dancers in the Parthenon – which had shocked the public at their first unveiling – muscular athletes resembling ancient Greek statues, details of sculptures and daily scenes from the historical Athenian neighborhood of Plaka are Nelly's signature works.

The Pikermi exhibition, which has been put together by Ioanna Vasdeki and Jeff Vanderpool, comprises some 60 works by the photographer, who is also known by her real name, Elli Souyioultzoglou-Seraidari, making for a comprehensive approach to the body of her work.

Nelly's (1899-1998) came from a wealthy Greek family in Asia Minor and studied photography in Dresden in 1921 beside acclaimed German photographers Hugo Erfurth and Franz Fiedler.

She moved to Athens in 1924 following her family's expulsion from Turkey and focused her lens on themes that she saw as being purely Greek. Her portraits of people from all walks of life, and especially of high society, have provided us with valuable information concerning Greek society in the inter-war years, but her most famous pieces are those of ancient monuments elevated to symbols of magnificence and her bold shots of dancers on the Parthenon, odes to the female body and the embodiment of the classical ideals of beauty and fitness.

In the Greek countryside, Nelly's saw bucolic beauty all around and emphasized the harmonious coexistence of man with nature, while in the United States, where she spent 25 years of her life, she experimented with color and advertising photography.

The exhibition on Nelly's runs through June 23 at the Long Room (Adamopoulou Street, 19th kilometer of Marathon Avenue heading from Athens, left at the Drafi turning). For information, call 211.184.1997. Opening hours are Saturday and Sunday from noon to 8 p.m.

Talk some more soon,

Love Jane x

Poetry in the Etz Hayyim Synagogue Xania, Crete.

I enjoyed my five days in Xania, even though the weather was not good. There are more photo's to come, and I shall write a full report of the wonderful poetry workshop I attended. So, please be patient, it is Easter and I have chocolate to eat. Enjoy your weekend, wherever you are. Tomorrow I shall take to the streets of Vrahassi and feast on barbecued whatever comes. Kali Anastasi!

Ruth Padel in Hania

Love Jane x

JANE'S CHRISTMAS POEM 2011

This is what I was doing yesterday, when I should have been doing the ironing!

TOTALLY NATIVITY

The lights were twinkling on my tree,

As Christmas Eve descended,

I’d made the cake, the Christmas pud,

And praises duly rendered,

A tot of rum for Santa Claus,

And a lovely warm mince pie,

I placed beside the burning fire,

For that hungry passer by,

And then I noticed something wrong,

It was quite a mystery,

A little sheep had disappeared

From the toy Nativity,

Joseph still watched over Mary,

Jesus was there in the hay,

A small group of shepherds gathered

With wise men from far away,

The cattle were lowing softly,

A bright star above them shone,

Every character had its place,

Except the sheep, which was gone,

We can’t have Christmas without her,

I thought, she’s there every year,

The stable has to have a sheep,

Without it, it looks quite bare,

So I started to search the house,

For that little missing sheep,

I rifled through cupboards and drawers,

I upturned things in a heap,

I looked around the skirting board,

Down the sides of the settee,

I emptied the waste-paper bin,

Moved things underneath the tree,

The sheep had spirited away,

And the house was upside down,

I just couldn’t understand it,

The thing was not to be found,

And then Dave came home from the pub,

As happy a man could be,

He looked at the mess. I explained,

‘I can’t find the sheep, you see.’

‘Ah the sheep’, he said quite coyly,

There’s something you need to know,

I took it for a little walk,

For a change of air, Ho! Ho!”

He pulled his hand from his pocket,

Clenched his fist tight, gave a sigh,

Then slowly opened his fingers,

To reveal the sheep inside,

I was so happy to see it,

There was no anger at all,

We both just fell about laughing,

And placed the sheep in the stall

We shook our heads and looked around,

Our home was in disarray,

What mattered most, the lost sheep was

Found, in time for Christmas Day.

©Jane Sharp

2011

THE FALKLAND CONFLICT 1982 REMEMBERED

In remebrance of all who gave their lives for their country.

Two poems which I wrote way back.

WE SHALL NOT FORGET OUR TOM – THE FALKLAND CONFLICT 1982

But we waited, our eyes

Like the lights of the weaving shed,

Silently watching the angry rise,

Black silhouettes, our heads

Among boulders bobbed blind

Through the wet, muddy bed,

And bursting, our minds

Saw the red of the Matador’s bull,

And the snorting began, and the pound

Of the charge, and the beat

Of our feet as we zapped and yelled,

And fired, and shelled, and hit -

Aaagghh! Was it Hell

We offered those beef-boys that night -

Our blood-curdling cry, was it Hell,

Like the Jehad, we fought

Till the mount was our own,

And the colours were bought

With the blood of our homespun

Pride. The bazooka man (who died,

My friend, my aide, was one

Whose northern fabric frayed:

Blown to bits by an Argy. Bomb)

Now lies in communal grave.

We shall not forget our Tom,

Mount Kent, Mount William, or Tumbledown,

Or the long slog there from

Plymouth sound, where our band

Played us out with imperial rock,

And Aunt Flo waved a flag, and a hand.

Copyright Jane Sharp

REMEMBRANCE SUNDAY
Chapped legs knocking,
Face icy red,
Remembering, remembering,
Remembering the dead,
Remembering what?
On that cold November day,
In the midst of dark statues
Shrouded in grey.
Like great looming tombs,
In Victorian guise,
Stiff to attention,
Tears in their eyes,
Two big bosomed ladies,
Coloured with honours,
Arms full of flowers,
And heads in fox-collars,
Stepped forward with grace
(how could they faulter)
Like virginal nuns
Approaching the altar.

All noise ceased: thought filled the skies;
A little girl prayed with tight-shut eyes.
The bugler played that familiar tune,
And the flag of the Legion was
Slowly brought down.
A motor car passed,
Again, and again,
Abide with me,
Amen,
Amen.

Copyright Jane Sharp

It has been a wonderfully warm, cosy afternoon by the fire, here in Crete.
Love Jane x