Yannis Kontos


    This bed of red, how it covers Yeros’s landscapes, as he looks out of his colour window, at the clouds and that volcano in the distance. A black chasm, and a bird trying to give a voice to the silent black. Rose fields and mountains hanker for perfume and kisses. The painter will hunt birds with a net across the nearly blue, surrounded by a landscape of faintly outlined mountains and a lake. The fiery volcano is always there, as if waving a handkerchief to the sky. With his greys, silvers, browns and reds (and variations thereof) Yeros creates a peculiar surrealism which, in his dream, touches on naturalism. And that red bird (with just a touch of black on its feathers), with many smaller birds inside it, brings the world closer. In Yeros’s painting, people run, animals are immovable and landscapes are ever changing, as if seen through a kaleidoscope. Often the blue colour together with a dark green will blow the composition sky-high. Here even the fishes glide through the air. In the background a landscape seeks to enter our lives. A hot-air balloon flies over deserted places, looking proud and beautiful. The artist’s paintings are poems complete with many meanings and allusions. An apple is the world with its shadow, and a sky that is waiting. All of the painter’s doors and windows always lead us to surprises. You could call them dreams, but they are the only absolute reality. Furthermore, this is what Art –and its consolation– is. I would also call the painter erotic, because he transmits this feeling without showing it. How a box with a forest inside it is flying – a composition clearly surrealistic and sparkling. Successive landscapes are swirling around the painter and he calmly captures them on canvas. A kitten over and outside the composition of a painting is looking at the viewer and into the composition: a storm, the sky, a red boat whistling. How the artist leafs through the landscapes, as if reading a children’s book. Because that’s how a child understands the world and plays with it. A red sea over the grass and a house; elsewhere, a red meadow and water and running dreams. Yeros’s trees are not imaginary. If you look at them long enough as part of nature, they will be transformed and lure you to reality.

    I shouldn’t forget how Yeros also practises photography with success; it has become his other reality. Of course he is a poet who engages in a back-and-forth with gradations of light. I too walk in Dimitris Yeros’s Art  and read our lives, our loves and our imagination, which cannot be contained anywhere.

    Apart from a few restaurateurs in England and America, Mr Yeros is the only Greek gentleman that I have ever known, but I’ve always been dimly aware that, as a nation, the Greeks have been consumed by a passion for the human body – so much so that, during its heyday, Athens must have looked like an outfitter’s window during a weekday strike. This book at first appears to confirm this ancient belief but, as one turns the pages and the postures of the models become more and more bizarre, one realises the whole idea is being deliciously satirised – a thoroughly entertaining book.

    Quentin Crisp

    on the book Theory of The Nude

    by Paul LaRosa   essay from the  edition of 21st , 2004

    Chiseled Tableaus: The Nudes of Dimitris Yeros

    In a moment of unadorned melody--a fragment of birdsong, a Chopin Prelude--the cords  within us bend and turn. Time suspends, and from a single nuance, a world unfolds. The solitary nude, pure and unambiguous, is a similar melody, one keyed to beauty and simplicity, a rhythm in which we move in unison. In lowered eyes our desire is merged; from line and limb we quarry the substance of life and love. Each gesture of the body is a moment both intimate and vast, a summation of sense and the lineament of thought.

    Dimitris Yeros captures such moments in lyrical photographs that celebrate the beauty of the male body. His nudes distill an unspoiled essence and vitality, discovering gestures and nuances in the body that are infinitely revealing and self-renewing. In their presence, time seems to melt away, and a world of wonder is disclosed, a world scaled both to intimacy and to universality, in which spirit and flesh harmonize. Staged to face us directly, Yeros' nudes are palpably real and teeming with presence--breathing, blinking, pulsing--but at the same time they glow like deities newly imagined. They awaken us to destinies of love and desire, to origins and intangible essences, and in their curves resides the intoxication of instinct. Lucent and visional, they seem brought from the sun, caught by stars, and bent by the moon.

    Acclaimed as a painter and photographer, and widely exhibited at home in Greece and abroad, Yeros has also produced sculpture and poetry, and is one of the first video artists. All is concentrated in a pursuit of beauty nourished by an amazement for life, an adulation of youth, and a clear and abundant eroticism. Purity and immediacy define his work, and a fulsomeness that is achieved through clarity, simplicity, and play. Yeros' sensibility is ludic and intuitive, embracing the unexpected through gently surreal arrangements, peculiar combinations that imbue his art with originality and an inherent sense of joy--a joy akin to a child who suddenly runs simply because it is possible, for whom movement precedes purpose. Yeros' photos are governed by the same spirit of openness and spontaneity. They may be staged, but they also seem discovered in their own making. They preserve the ephemeral and entrust themselves to the moment, exuberantly.

    This is not to say that his work lacks depth or refinement. On the contrary, it is as contemplative and exquisitely layered as it is simple and celebratory, and it innovates a genre choked with solipsistic gestures, too often bereft of substance, feeling, or originality. A lustrous quality permeates Yeros' prints, with tonal contrasts that are richly suggestive, neither austere nor distancing. Symmetrical and precise, with direct and absolute perspectives, his images of nude males appear as chiseled tableaus, and yet their sculpture belies a natural rhythm, a nimbleness and flux. From darkened chambers that resemble both deep pools and the broad canvas of dreams, figures emerge and assert themselves, irradiant and reborn. Fingers uncurl and extend, clutching sides and grasping feet, quizzically exploring the contours of the body, as if each muscle and bone harbored its own hue, as if the body were a kind of mandala. In these postures Yeros crystallizes moments in which the body is a threshold to self-discovery.

    On one hand his nudes, statuesque and ennobled, partake of a tradition of Classical sculpture. Rendered in elongated lines, they appear like marbled forms lit from within, kouroses gilded by fire, uneroded and quintessential. Often they rest on draped tables and pedestals, displayed like frescoes or altarpieces, elevated as icons and artful marvels. We recognize a Classical tradition at work, albeit one that is innovated and revivified. Surreal flourishes abound, maverick flights of the imagination that disrupt our expectations. A boy's torso is covered in snails. The elegant supine pose becomes an arching sprawl, unsure of conclusion. Twisting limbs and leaning postures imitate the symbols and forms of language--alphabets, zodiacs, arabesques. At times, the angled placement of the body seems to suggest the machinations of an unseen puppeteer at work in the background. But the figures are too sensuous to represent dolls, too alive and protean and with gestures too expansive to stand as symbols for the workings of fate. Rather, it is as if his models were released from the temples into the world of the flesh, in which they find themselves vexed by ardor and a newfound freedom, spellbound by a nascent awareness of the body. Their movements are orchestrated yet informal, compelled forth as tides by the cycles of the moon.

    A melodious and organic quality keeps these photos natural and intuitive. The props which accompany his nudes seem chosen as Mediterranean icons of simplicity and bounty, resonances of life at its most elemental: apples and lavender, jugs for water, sheaths and wooden tables. Sometimes Yeros pairs his nudes with animals, establishing a kinship that underscores their earthiness and reaffirms our bond with the natural world. In other instances his figures seem animalistic themselves, poised to pounce, transfixed by rut. Issued forth from primal movements and the rudiments of life, Yeros' work is generative and embryonic. It is not exiled from nature, but resident at the very core. I liken it to a pearl brought forth from the depths of the ocean: unique, whole, sensuous and luminescent.

    Nothing is decorative or superfluous in Yeros' photographs, and at the same time, nothing is overtly conceptual; the images are essentially associative and imaginatively layered. In one mesmerizing photo, a naked youth, wide-eyed and content, is covered in snails and garlanded with ivy. Painterly and serene, the image is an inspired reinterpretation of the still life banquet, a curious reworking of familiar signs of bounty. But Yeros transcends the rules of any formal game, harnessing an energy that propels the image into the realm of the visionary and the erotic. Like some mythic being, the boy appears newly sprung from the clay of the earth, a living embodiment of the creative force of nature. He emanates a sexuality that is steady and harmonious, a magnetism blended from his tensile limbs, his balanced posture, even from the wet snails that trail across his skin like a succession of kisses. Yeros speaks eloquently to the dynamism of nature, its richness and juvenation. He locates the fantastic within the real, the spirit within the flesh, and as in much of his work, they culminate in an eroticized image of a beautiful boy, an evocation of youth as the sensuous body of the world, fertile and enfolding. We see it again in his photograph of a beautiful young peasant, flaxen-haired and with lips gently parted, who sits naked on a cropping of rocks under a moon-bright sky, encircling a clay urn with delicate hands--a radiant image draped in a mood of expectancy and offering, far removed from any Orientalist vision of exotica. The boy's languorous gaze and the lush chiaroscuro recall the seductiveness of Caravaggio. The image is powerfully erotic, timeless, and peaceful, threaded by a dream of desire and eternal youth. Here is Antinous, the teenage lover of Hadrian, whom Fernando Pessoa immortalized in verse: young and golden-haired, and with "eyes half-diffidently bold"; a "flesh-lust raging for eternity," in whose presence "thou wouldst tremble and fall."

    The charged eroticism of Yeros' work often rests in dualities that are skillfully balanced: stillness and motion, the hidden and the exposed, the visionary and the vernacular. A photograph of a boy standing naked, arms outstretched and shielding his body with an opaque curtain, strikes us by an understated yet pronounced complexity. The image is a potent, tactile embodiment of lust and temptation, and at the same time it bestows a sense of innocence and evanescence. Yeros' veil, fluid and impermanent--a counterpoint to the immotile stance and stare of the boy--brings light out of darkness, but it also returns us to a world of secrecy and untapped desire. In its folds seem to lie the currents of the boy's inner world--hope and longing, emotional life, love and sex. More mirror than barrier, and with a dreamy texture that summons contemplation, it harnesses our thoughts as well, a gateway to reflections on the quixotic nature of desire and the passing of time, and the irreconcilable exchange between what is attainable and what forbidden, in which all our lives dwell.

    Look at his serpentine image of dark-eyed youth, a male Salome with arms raised and body stretched--a brooding, enthralling depiction of male. We recognize a sexuality that is all-encompassing, that translates the full range of human emotion and experience. It is at once calm and devouring, lyrical and raw, and it seizes on all the senses.

    For Yeros, love, beauty and desire are celebrated as equal feasts, sustenances drawn from an essential world of plenty. They nourish his art and instill it with sentience and significance. Rapturous and alive, his nudes are keyed primarily to our senses: they stir and reverberate; we shiver, sigh, and tremble. But they also incarnate the fundamental rhythms of nature, like poems tracing paeans to the interconnectedness of life, its abundance and endless possibilities--as if anchored, in "delicious solitude," in the same pungent natural world of Marvell's "Garden." Their erotic presence fuses the earthly with the ethereal, sex with spirit and sublimity, and it speaks to a kind of perpetual wonder and veneration that is deeply and commensurately felt. It became all the more apparent when, as I sat writing this essay one February morning, I noticed a strange and beautiful confluence of events outside my window, a phenomenon I have rarely glimpsed: a dense curtain of descending snow, and the sun burning bright through shifting clouds, igniting the air. I stopped my work and stood outside, a captive witness to Nature's caprice--an occurrence unique and resplendent, both detailed and immense, still and dynamic, showing a world wending toward harmony. "Wedding of foxes" it is called in Japan. When the snow stopped I returned to my table, and once again looked at beautiful Greek nudes. Surely Dimitris Yeros would be inspired by such a sight, and would understand, who captures the same resplendent world, provokes the same sensations in his glorious photographs.

    And you must see and accept this world,
    small, this great world.

    Dimitris Yeros is unique in the world of art for he is both a great painter and a great photographer. Most painters who have also been photographers have not approached photography as an original means of artistic expression. They have used photographs as they would sketches and created them as studies for what they consider their most serious work. The resulting images are, therefore, more interesting as artifacts of the creative process than as works of art. In a few rare cases, those of painters Thomas Eakins, José María Sert, Alphonse Mucha, Franz von Stuck, Frank Brangwyn, and Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, their photographs are occasionally powerful works of art in their own right. However, one can still see --except in the case of Eakins-- that the photograph was always merely a means to an end, a brilliant drawing in light that served to aid in the creation of a painting. This is understandable because seeing with a photographer's eye and seeing with a painter's eye are two distinctly different kinds of vision which demand two distinctly different kinds of craft. It is the same with poetry and prose. Both are literary arts, but how many great poets are also great novelists? There are hardly any, and there are only two great painters who have also been great photographers--Man Ray and Dimitris Yeros, two artists who actually have much in common.

    Yeros, just as Man Ray did, approaches his twin arts from radically different positions so that his paintings look nothing like his photographs. Both artists developed an aesthetic of photography distinct and separate from their aesthetic of painting. In photography Yeros is an acknowledged masters of the nude, as was Man Ray, and his photographs, like Man Ray's, are primarily driven by beauty. They immediately appeal to the senses and to the emotions. Yet his paintings, again like Man Ray's, are surreal and reach far beyond reality, beyond the world of senses and the flesh. Though their appeal is as immediate as the appeal of his photographs, it is an appeal to the intellect as it tries to understand and make sense of what he is showing us. And finally the paintings do make very good sense and become quite clear. But initially Yeros's paintings also turn sensual in their appeal because the mind does not worry with making ‘sense’ of them and realizes that much of their ‘sense’ lies buried in their rich sensuality --in their juxtapositions of startling imagery and manipulations of color as shimmering and delicate as Mark Rothko's.

    A photographer is always restrained by the world, by what actually exists, even if it is a strange construction or composition of his own invention, as some of Yeros's nudes are. A photographer, therefore, must either record or manipulate Nature, but a painter can invent it. He, unlike the photographer, is never restricted by the limits of his eye; he is only confined by the limits of his own imagination. While a photographer must construct his art from what is, a painter can deal with what never was. And that is the world Yeros gives us, a world as rich as his own boundless imagination, a world of exuberant flowering.

    One might ask, but why create a world that is not real, a world that only resembles reality. It is often the case that a resemblance to reality will speak with greater force and truth than the reality we are used to seeing. Those things that daily pass before our eyes and our minds finally do not register with us, and we forget even how to see them. It often takes a jolt or a shock to make us actually stop and see something and think about it, and that is what the paintings of Dimitris Yeros give us--a visual shock that forces our minds into reflection.

    Look at these strange paintings of Yeros carefully for a moment and consider what it is we are actually seeing, what it is that he has created to delight our eyes and give our minds something to reflect upon. We see things we know well, the most important things of our lives and the most basic things of life on earth: trees, leaves, apples, thorns, birds, wind, water, clouds, blue sky, animals, mountains, and volcanoes. But stop and consider the very words themselves: trees, leaves, apples, and so forth. They are among the most existential nouns of any language. They are the nouns that name the things that let us know we are alive on a living planet.

    What about the volcanoes, one might ask? Aren't volcanoes ominous images? Of course, and they have certainly affected the history of Greece, but they are also proof of the planet's ongoing life and a part of the breathing, stirring world of rain, clouds, and wind. There is very little of the modern technological world represented in Yeros's paintings because most everything that world extols, bows down to, and worships is less important than the great gifts of life itself--wind and leaves, rain and falling apples. In his exuberant world Yeros makes only two mild concessions to technology. He needs a means of transport through his much loved blue skies and through the earth's blue waters, and so we sometimes find dirigibles and steamboats in his work. Zeppelin had perfected the dirigible by 1901, and the steamboat was a late eighteenth/early nineteenth century invention, so both of these inventions predate the watershed year 1914, the real beginning of the disastrous twentieth century, not only the bloodiest century in the world's history, but also the century in which we became more divorced from Nature than ever before. As we look at these paintings of Dimitris Yeros and consider them, the more we come to realize that they are Yeros's own rapturous hymns to Nature. And in spite of their strange and surreal juxtapositions, they are as classical at heart as antiquity itself.

    A viewer, however, might wonder about the strange shapes flying through the air in so many of Yeros's paintings. The viewer could certainly recognize birds and fish and trees from the natural world about him, but these strange shapes initially strike a person as something no one has ever before seen. The shape is clearly Yeros's most important symbol, an image he has used for years in painting after painting. It appear in much of his sculpture and medalic art and in over a third of the paintings in the book D. Yeros (Athens, 1997). These rich and potent forms suggest and resemble several things--clouds, of course, because they are floating in the sky. But because the shapes bend their tails in some of Yeros's paintings and sculpture, they suggest something living, and we naturally think of sperm, which also makes us reflect upon their phallic shape. However, they also resemble the fish that fly through the air in some of his paintings, and even the heads of some of his great clusters of birds, and the tip ends of his thorns. This shape seems to unite much of Yeros's imagery and blend it into the sexual and creative. It is as if this shape is both the great mystery of Yeros's paintings and the great mystery of the living world.

    Once long ago that mystery was shaped like the features of Olympian gods, but in the exuberant flowering world of Yeros it speeds through the wind and blue skies bringing rain, impregnating nature and transforming into thorn, fish, bird, and man's sexual and artistic creativity both. It is the life force itself. It is Nature's spark and the spiritual energy of the earth. Yeros's vision is finally not merely a hymn to Nature but a hymn to all Creation. And again the words of Elytis come to mind, words deeply suggestive of the imagery of Yeros. In the final stanza of his ‘Ode to Santorini’, Elytis wrote:

    In the proclamation of the wind, flash out
    That new and perpetual beauty
    When the three-hour sun rises aloft
    Totally blue, playing the harmonica of Creation.

    The harmonica of Creation - it is an instrument that Dimitris Yeros has mastered well.

    John Wood is a poet and an art historian who has wan major prizes for his work in both fields. He is the author of four books of poetry and sixteen volumes of criticism and history. He curated the 1995 Smithsonian Institution and National Museum American Art exhibition Secrets of the Dark Chamber and is the editor of 21st: The Journal of Contemporary Photography.

    EYEMAZING magazine

    Issue 01-2012

    Dimitris Yeros: Shades of Love

    By Clayton Maxwell

    My life is spent in the ebb and flow of pleasure, in erotic fantasies—sometimes realized.
    My work leans toward thought.
    Perhaps rightly so.
    Then my work is like the amphora I mentioned. It allows for different interpretations.
    And my love life has its own manifestation—obscure only to the ignorant. Expressed more broadly, it may not have been enough of an artistic field for me to stay, to be enough for me.
    I work like the ancients. They wrote history, they created philosophy, dramas of a mythological tragic nature—sensual—so many of them—just like me.

    C.P. Cavafy, 20-6-1910
    As translated for the opening of Dimitris Yeros’s Shades of Love

    Greek photographer Dimitris Yeros’s latest book, Shades of Love, is a virtuosic blend of image and poetry. A decade-long labor of love by one of Greece’s most accomplished photographers, the project combines Yeros’s masterful black and whites with select poems by C. P. Cavafy, Greece’s celebrated poet who died in 1933. Cavafy, beloved by Greeks and bibliophiles, is less known to the world at large. Yeros’s images artfully breathe new life into the poems and place them within reach of a wider audience.

    It is no surprise that Cavafy’s poetry would inspire a fellow Greek artist. Cafavy’s life is rich in material: he was a gay poet at the turn of the 19th century who bucked norms and openly embraced his sexuality. Well-read and well traveled, he was both an aristocrat and polymath; he lived in Alexandria, England, Constantinople, and France, but spent the majority of his life in Alexandria. His poetry, however, was written in Greek; Yeros commissioned a new translation by David Connolly especially for this project. (Playwright Edward Albee writes the forward, and photography critic John Wood the introduction.) An amalgam of visual arts and literature that is both handsome and invitingly naughty, Shades of Love has attracted the attention of both poetry and photography lovers worldwide.

    Yeros transforms this project into a particularly enlivening journey by pairing Cavafy’s poems with portraits of the world’s top men of arts and letters (with one Greek-American actress—Olympia Dukakis-- as the exception.) Gore Vidal, Gabriel García Márquez, Carlos Fuentes, David Leddick, Duane Michals, Jeff Koons, Naguib Mahfouz, Jean Baudrillard, and many more fill the pages of the book. This addition makes Shades of Love far more than just a coupling of poetry and photography: Yeros is taking the particular—one man’s poems—and highlighting their universal reach by bringing in new personalities to embody them. Shades of Love is a visual testament to these words that Cavafy wrote a hundred years ago: “ I work like the ancients. They wrote history, they created philosophy, dramas of a mythological tragic nature—sensual—so many of them—just like me.” Just as Cavafy is like the ancients, so are Yeros and the colleagues he photographs.

    Last year, a selection of the images from the book was exhibited at the Michael Cacoyannis Foundation in Athens. In that gallery space, Yeros played recorded readings of Cavafy’s poems by many of the men featured in the book—each recited the poem that accompanied his portrait. This experiential melding of poetry and image moved viewers to tears—the poetry of Cavafy became so present and shimmering you could touch it. 

    But these famous men do not occupy the photos alone. They are flanked by hunky, naked youth—male models—who serve as a fascinating foil to the dignified older men in the photos. Yeros transforms what could have been a straight up portrait into visual dialogues about relationship and all of the complexities they can contain--yearning, nostalgia, lust, envy, love, etc--exactly what Cafavy explores through poetry.

    Yeros is friends with most of the famous men he photographs, which partially explains the intimacy, humor and warmth his images possess—in some of them, you feel like you are getting an inside glimpse into the creative private world of close friends. The already-established relationship translates to a surprising ease in the images.

    Consider, for example, the portrait of Edward Lucie-Smith. In it, Yeros creates an interpretation of the poem, And I Sat and Reclined on Their Beds, that is delightful in its humor and tenderness. Lucie-Smith, a British writer and critic, sits on a bed, fully clothed, between two beautiful young men. The accompanying Cavafy poem is:

    When I entered pleasure’s house,
    I left the room where with propriety
    sanctioned loves celebrate.

    I went into the secret chambers
    and I sat and reclined on their beds. 

    I went into the secret chambers
    thought shameful even to mention
    But not shameful to me – for then
    what kind of poet or artist would I be?
    Better to be a hermit. It would be more in accord
    much more in accord with my poetry;

    than for me to find joy in that commonplace room.

    Yeros’s image highlights the playfulness of the poem. Lucie-Smith, like Cavafy in this poem, does not look at all ashamed of residing in this “secret chamber.” Rather, he looks amused, as if he finds it quite surprising and pleasant to find himself sandwiched between two beefcakes.

    Shades of Love emphasizes Cavafy’s unusual outspokenness as a gay man. During the time he was writing, homosexuality was emphatically “thought shameful even to mention.” Which is another reason why Cavafy’s poetry is so unusual—he was speaking out in much bolder terms about his sexuality than any of his contemporaries, even more so than Walt Whitman, a contemporary.

    Shades of Love feels like a journey not only into Cavafy’s poetry, but also into the richness of Yeros’s world. In the afterward of the book, Yeros writes amusing anecdotes from the often complicated and bold photo shoots that went into its making. He tells how William Weslow, naked, would repeatedly interrupt the photo shoot to chase away the pigeons from his veranda, furiously waving his arms. And how Clive Barker refused to be shot naked because he didn’t want his penis to look smaller next to that of his partner. The very tales behind these images contain all of the drama, vanity, warmth and allure of a really good poem.

    A fine raconteur, Yeros revealed via email the back story to one of my favorite images: the writer David Leddick sitting in a chair at home, naked, with two hunky young men standing behind him. Yeros wrote to me in an email, “When I telephoned David Leddick and told him I wanted to photograph him naked, at first he was surprised but, as he has a sense of humor, he then said, “Oh, OK, but I never want to see this photograph.” At a later date he told me he was very happy I had photographed him and that it was his only naked picture. Before going to Miami for the photo shoot, I asked him if he could find two or three boys to pose with him. He said he would, found a few and sent them to the hotel for my approval. But they were all ugly. I phoned him and told him that they were not good-looking enough to be photographed with him, and he said: “Oh, I suppose I wasn’t wearing my glasses when I met them!”   

    I love this photo of Leddick because, while he is not as obviously physically beautiful as the young men who did end up in the photo, he looks at ease and confidant naked. There is an important point that is made here, a point which I think Cavafy doesn’t necessarily address but this image inherently does, whether consciously or not: youth does not determine beauty. Leddick’s confidence as an older man lounging in his chair naked expresses a kind of sexiness that mere youth often does not touch.

    But what about the beefcakes? What role do they play other than eye candy? Actually, given the tone of Cavafy’s poetry—that is probably the exact role they are supposed to play. So many of Cavafy’s poems focus on youthful beauty, placing their gaze on those hotties of the firm round buttocks and sculpted pecs, evocations of the Greek Ideal. In one photo, a young man stands amidst crumbling antiquities. His bottom faces us, as perfectly shaped as a marble statue of Eros. Yeros (whose name, I must note, is simply Eros with a Y) is deliberately playing with Greece’s history as center of both the ideal human form and gay love since antiquity.

    Cavafy’s poems drip with nostalgia and sexual longing. Many possess the voice of an older man whose memories of all consuming passion both feed and haunt him. Yeros’s images visually reinforce this lust for youth and beauty. The image of Leonidas Depian, for example, shows the writer sitting darkly in a chair, his face both pensive and mournful.  A younger man wearing only tight underwear stands behind him. Yeros has illuminated the young man, his body lithe and light in contrast to Depian’s position in the shadows. Yeros is playing with Cavafy’s brooding nostalgia for youth and beauty. It is a somber theme--an elderly man, no longer deemed attractive, resigned to the shadows of desire.

    Cavafy’s poem To Remain recounts one of those bittersweet nights full of the tension of desire and satisfaction, the prevailing mood of Shades of Love:

    To Remain

    It must have been one in the morning,
    Or half-past one. 

    In a corner of the tavern;
    Behind the wooden partition.
    The place was completely empty save for the two of us.
    An oil lamp provided scant light.
    The drowsy waiter was dozing by the door.

    No one would have seen us. Yet already
    We were so aroused,
    That we’d become incapable of caution.

    Our clothes were half-open—not that there were many
    For the divine month of July was blazing hot.

    Pleasure of the flesh through
    The half-open clothes;
    Quick baring of the flesh—the image of which
    Crossed twenty-six years; and has come now
    To remain in this poetry.

    Who doesn’t return again and again to the juiciest moments of wanting and satisfaction? Obviously, such pleasure is intrinsically short-lived. Obvious, but still it stings, and we all lash out against that truth in one way another. Art and poetry are amongst the more beautiful and noble ways we soften the sting.

    When an artist works in two different genres, one naturally looks for the links between the two different kinds of art he makes. Dimitris Yeros is a very individual painter, with an instantly recognizable style. He is also an immensely skilled photographer, whose images of the nude have the flawless poise of Greek classical sculpture.

    One might expect, perhaps, that the paintings would resemble the photographs, but this is not the case. At times they seem like the product of two quite separate artistic personalities. There are, of course, things that they share. The chief of these is their affiliation to Surrealism. A nude young woman will have a torso wreathed in ivy, and her skin will be adorned with snails. An equally nude young man, seated behind a table, will studiously ignore the pea-hen perched at one corner.

    Not all the photographs are like this. Some are celebration of the athletic male body, with no additional accoutrements. Some are penetrating informal portraits of literary and artistic celebrities. These testify to the breadth and variety of Dimitris Yeros’s friendships. Where else but on his Internet web site would one find the American artist Jeff Koons cheek-by-jowl with the great Colombian novelist Gabriel García Márquez? A recent series, still in progress, consists of images that comment on the poems of Cavafy, often using contemporary celebrities as surrogates for the now-departed poet.

    Whatever their subject-matter, the photographs have complete technical control, and an unerringly extroverted sense of style.

    When one looks at Yeros’s paintings and at the prints related to them, the situation seems very different. The link to Surrealism is still there – in fact, it is even closer. But the paintings are introverted where the photographs are extroverted. They have nothing to do with the sensuality of the body, fascination with which plays such an important role in many of the photographs. The paintings are concise emblems – each is a summary of an emotional state. Certain basic images recur – birds, for instance, and fish – but these are reduced to their most basic, diagrammatic form. When human beings are portrayed, they too are diagrammatic. Yeros’s typical ‘running men’ remind us of the men in bowler hats that regularly appear in paintings by Magritte. They are never individuals, but cloned versions of a bourgeois everyman.

    Why does this contrast exist? Photography, as an artistic medium, is dependent on the external world. That is to say, the photographer has to find something – some body, some place, some incident in the external world – that he wants to portray. Of course, he can to some extent create these incidents. The snails and the pea-hen, included in two of Yeros’s photographs that I have just described, did not arrive of their own accord. He had to imagine their presence, find them, and then use them for his own purposes. Paintings do not require this process of discovery and compilation – or only sometimes, not invariably. Yeros’s paintings are snapshots of his own psychological condition – but to make them he does not need a camera. He only has to look into himself, with an unblinking gaze. This cool consideration of the self is certainly something that Cavafy would have sympathized with, though he offered his own results in such a different form.


    Depuis les origines la photographie a à voir avec “le Musée imaginaire” – cher à André Malraux. Il s’est agi dans les deux dimensions de l’image photographique de transcrire et de communiquer des volumes sculpturaux qui nourrissent l’origine de notre culture. Le complément de cet emploi de la photographie comme lucarne sur notre civilisation fut l’intérêt pour la Méditerranée, le monde grec et moyen-oriental. Les albums publiés de 1851 à 1855 par Blanquart-Evrard, le premier éditeur au monde de livres photographiques, témoignent avec force de ces deux composantes.

    C’est donc à une vieille histoire des relations de la photographie et du visible que nous convie Dimitris Yeros. Vivant à Lesbos, son regard n’a rien à voir avec celui d’un touriste. Il est sans emphase, et ne porte aucun intérêt à l’exotisme et aux curiosités que les guides recommandent de ne pas manquer. Qu’il s’agisse de son île ou de l’Egypte, il reste celui d’un méditerranéen. Sans une once d’orientalisme. Cette vision qui a nourri les rêveries, les fantasmes des aspirants occidentaux au voyage réel ou imaginaire vers la Méditerranée orientale.

    Periorasis est une aventure poétique qui met en correspondance, en résonance différentes empreintes du visible. Qu’il se situe en Grèce, en Egypte, en Amérique, l’auteur tisse des ponts entre les formes architecturales, les paysages et les hommes. Son approche, “de style documentaire”, montre à l’évidence que la photographie est une construction interprétative. Lorsqu’elle est maîtrisée, elle présente plus que du visible, elle suscite l’effet qu’il produit. L’artiste photographe n’est pas un miroir passif, c’est un voyant, un interprète doté d’une cosmogonie.

    Dimitris Yeros est proche des hommes. Sa conception est très ouverte. La vision. Dans un monde, où les intégrismes, les nationalismes, les intolérances ravagent des pays et même les démocraties les plus anciennes, il est bon de rappeler que la vie est faite d’échanges et que la richesse des civilisations de la Méditerranée est précisément le fruit de ces échanges.

    La qualité de la lumière est une autre caractéristique de Periorasis. Que ce soit en Grèce ou en Egypte, elle cisèle la pierre, les bas reliefs. Dimitris Yeros s’empare avec jubilation de cet élément pour en faire la matière première de son écriture. Profondeur de champs maximum, précision du trait, qualité de la couleur du tirage noir et blanc participent à son style. Cela n’a rien de formaliste. C’est seulement la mise en oeuvre d’une distance au visible, d’une philosophie, classique dans le meilleur sens du terme.

    La mer baigne ces images. Peut-être Odyssée et circumnavigation sur ce qui représentait le centre du monde pour l’antiquité? Il s’agit plus certainement d’un espace de départ, d’arrachement, d’épreuves des marins loin de leurs îles, d’attente pour ceux qui restent. Nous ne sommes pas loin du “Quart”, de l’écrivain Nikos Kavadias. Periorasis nous parle d’exil. L’autre rive pour l’Europe est maintenant l’Amérique.

    Pierre Devin
    Février 1999

    Δημήτρης Γέρος - ΠΕΡΙΟΡΑΣΙΣ

    Από τη γένεσή της η φωτογραφία έχει να κάνει με το «φανταστικό Μουσείο» – το τόσο προσφιλές στον Αντρέ Μαλρό. Κινείται ανάμεσα στις δύο διαστάσεις της φωτογραφικής εικόνας, της καταγραφής και της διάδοσης των γλυπτών όγκων που τροφοδοτούν τις απαρχές του πολιτισμού μας. Συμπλήρωμα αυτής της λειτουργίας της φωτογραφίας, σαν παράθυρο στον πολιτισμό μας, υπήρξε το ενδιαφέρον για τη Μεσόγειο, τον Ελληνικό κόσμο και τη Μέση Ανατολή. Τα λευκώματα που κυκλοφόρησε στην περίοδο 1851-1855 ο Μπλανκάρ-Εβράρ, ο πρώτος στον κόσμο εκδότης φωτογραφικών βιβλίων, μαρτυρούν έντονα αυτές τις δύο συνιστώσες.

    Άρα πρόκειται για μια παλιά ιστορία των σχέσεων της φωτογραφίας και του ορατού στην οποία μας προσκαλεί ο Δημήτρης Γέρος. Καθώς ζει στη Λέσβο, η ματιά του δεν έχει καμιά σχέση με τη ματιά του τουρίστα. Είναι χωρίς έμφαση και δεν ενδιαφέρεται καθόλου για τον εξωτισμό και τα αξιοπερίεργα που προτείνουν οι ξεναγοί να μη χάσουμε. Είτε πρόκειται για το νησί του είτε για την Αίγυπτο, παραμένει η ματιά ενός Μεσογειακού. Χωρίς καμιά δόση ανατολισμού. Αυτό το όραμα που έχει τροφοδοτήσει ονειροπολήσεις, φαντασιώσεις μνηστήρων της Δύσης στο πραγματικό ή φανταστικό ταξίδι προς την ανατολική Μεσόγειο.

    Η Περιόρασις είναι μια ποιητική περιπέτεια που θέτει σε αντιστοίχηση, σε αντήχηση, διαφορετικές αποτυπώσεις του ορατού. Είτε βρίσκεται στην Ελλάδα είτε στην Αίγυπτο ή την Αμερική, ο δημιουργός χτίζει γέφυρες ανάμεσα σε φόρμες αρχιτεκτονικές, τοπία και ανθρώπους. Η προσέγγισή του, «με ύφος ντοκουμενταρίστικο», αποδεικνύει ότι η φωτογραφία είναι ένα ερμηνευτικό κατασκεύασμα. Από τη στιγμή που τίθεται υπό έλεγχο, παρουσιάζει κάτι περισσότερο από το ορατό, υποστηρίζει το αποτέλεσμα που παράγει. Ο καλλιτέχνης φωτογράφος δεν είναι παθητικός καθρέφτης – είναι ένας οραματιστής, ένας προικισμένος διερμηνευτής μιας κοσμογονίας.

    Ο Δημήτρης Γέρος βρίσκεται κοντά στους ανθρώπους. Η «σύλληψή» του είναι πολύ ανοιχτή. Η όραση. Μέσα σ’ έναν κόσμο όπου οι φονταμενταλισμοί, οι εθνικισμοί, οι μισαλλοδοξίες ταλανίζουν χώρες, ακόμα και τις πιο παλιές δημοκρατίες, είναι καλό να υπενθυμίζεις ότι η ζωή φτιάχνεται από ανταλλαγές και ο πλούτος των πολιτισμών της Μεσογείου είναι ακριβώς καρπός αυτών των ανταλλαγών.

    Η ποιότητα του φωτός είναι άλλο ένα γνώρισμα της Περιοράσεως. Είτε στην Ελλάδα είτε στην Αίγυπτο, λαξεύει πέτρες και ανάγλυφα. Ο Δημήτρης Γέρος αξιοποιεί με ενοθουσιασμό αυτό το στοιχείο σαν πρώτη ύλη της γραφής του. Μέγιστο βάθος πεδίου, ακρίβεια γραμμής, και ποιότητα ασπρόμαυρης εκτύπωσης συμμετέχουν στο ύφος του. Δεν έχει τίποτα το φορμαλιστικό. Πρόκειται για την εφαρμογή μιας απόστασης από το ορατό, μιας φιλοσοφίας κλασικής με την καλύτερη έννοια του όρου.

    Η θάλασσα λούζει αυτές τις εικόνες. Ίσως η Οδύσσεια και ο περίπλους σ’ αυτό που αντιπροσώπευε το κέντρο του κόσμου για την αρχαιότητα; Πρόκειται βεβαιότατα για ένα χώρο αναχώρησης, χωρισμού, δοκιμασιών για ναυτικούς μακριά από τα νησιά τους, αναμονής γι’ αυτούς που μένουν πίσω. Δεν βρισκόμαστε μακριά από τη «Βάρδια» του Νίκου Καββαδία. Η Περιόρασις μάς μιλάει για την ξενιτιά. Η απέναντι όχθη για την Ευρώπη είναι τώρα η Αμερική.

    Since its origins photography has to do with the 'Imaginary Museum' – so dear to André Malraux. It moves between the two dimensions of the photographic image, the recording and the communication of sculptured volumes that nourish the origin of our civilisation. A complement of this use of photography, like a window on our civilisation, was the interest in the Mediterranean, the Greek world and the Middle East. The albums published between 1851 and 1855 by Blanquart-Evrard, the first ever publisher of photographic books, are convincing witnesses of these two components.

    It is therefore to an old history of relations between photography and the visible that Dimitris Yeros invites us. As he spends part of his life on Lesbos, his look at things is totally different from that of a tourist. It is without emphasis and takes no interest in the exotic or in the curiosities that guides recommend we should not miss. Whether on his island or in Egypt, his look is that of a Mediterranean. Without an ounce of orientalism – the vision which has nourished the reveries and fantasies of Western aspirants on the real or imaginary journey to the eastern Mediterranean.

    Periorasis is a poetic adventure that brings together different imprints of the visible. Whether he is in Greece, Egypt or America, the photographer builds bridges between architectural forms, landscapes and people. His approach, of a documentary style, attests that photography is an interpretative construction. Once mastered, it presents more than what is visible and supports the effect it produces. The artist-photographer is not a passive mirror; he is a visionary, an interpreter endowed with a cosmogony.

    Dimitris Yeros is close to people. His conception is open. The vision. In a world where fundamentalism, nationalism and intolerance are tearing countries apart –even the oldest among democracies– it is good to remind that life is made up of exchanges and that the richness of the Mediterranean civilisations is precisely the product of such exchanges.

    The quality of the light is another characteristic of Periorasis. In Greece or in Egypt, it chisels the stone, the bas-reliefs. Dimitris Yeros makes the best of this element as the raw material of his technique. Maximum depth of view, precision of lines, quality of blacks and whites, all participate in his style. It has nothing formalistic. It is but the application of distance from the visible, of a philosophy that is classic in the best sense of the term.

    The sea bathes these images. Perhaps an Odyssey and a circumnavigation of what was the ancients’ centre of the world? It is most certainly an area of departure, of separation, of the ordeals of sailors far from their islands, of waiting by those who stay behind. We are not far from Nikos Kavadias’ ‘The Watch’. Periorasis talks of exile. For Europe the opposite bank is now America.

    Dimitris Yeros is an artist who is well up in two medial fields, Photography as well as Painting. A study of his painting shows clearly his origins in Surrealism and its poetical alienating strategies; in photography, especially in his last series, he demonstrates in an almost empty, only elementarily furnished scene, that he is a disciple of Lautréamont, who pursued the union of contrary objects, namely of a sewing-machine and an umbrella, on the dissecting table. The union of man and animal has a long tradition in Surrealism. The confrontation of the animal, that fascinated the surrealists with its brutish sensuality and identity of instinct, is easy to trail in Painting from S. Dali, F.Labisse , P. Roy, down to the Austrian M. Lassnig. I don't know anyone in the field of Photography, who unites both life forms in such an innovative and fascinating way in a surrealistic picture-book world.

    In the first place there is by Yeros the confrontation of the static nude with the animal and, consequently, the reflection of the categories naked/dressed, natural/artificial as well as of the terms: rationality and instinct, beauty and sensuality. The second group deals with pictures that might be understood almost as a paraphrase of Alfred Hitchcock's Birds. What composes this attraction for butterflies and snails, that emanates from the surprised, naked, even subdued victims? The animals face man in a diverse form and function. At one time almost emblematically as if in a children's book (animal/man), then again in a poetical/narrative manner in a sense of standardization of man, where the animal is humanized or a certain animal determines a certain type of man. But moreover there is this type of picture that stresses the weird and menacing animal side with the black humour of Surrealism.

    Wherever, of course, a contact of animal and man takes place - the ethereal touch of the butterfly or the slime trace of the snail - the erotic and sensual moment plays metaphorically a part too.

    Yeros operates with associations and analogies. In his new photographs the artist dwells in a field that underlines his inclination to fabulous poetry.

    Peter Weiermair
    Director of the Museum of Modern Art, Bologna
    Director of the Rupertinum Museum of modern and contemporary Art, Salzburg.

    Von Mensch und Tier
    Ζu den neuen Arbeiten von Dimitris Yeros

    Dimitris Yeros ist ein bildender Künstler in zwei medialen Bereichen zu Hause, der Photographie wie der Malerei. Studiert man seine Malerei, wird die Herkunft aus dem Surrealismus und dessen poetischen Verfremdungsstrategien deutlich sichtbar, - in der Photographie, vor allem in seiner letzten Serie, in der er auf leerer, nur mit elementarem Mobiliar besetzten Bildbühne, demonstriert, daß er ein Schüler Lautréamonts ist, der die Verbindung konträrer Gegenstände, nämlich einer Nähmaschine und eines Regenschirms auf dem Seziertisch forderte. Die Verbindung von Mensch und Tier hat im Surrealismus eine lange Tradition. Es ließe sich leicht in der Malerei von S.Dali, F.Labisse, P.Roy bis herauf zur Österreicherin M.Lassnig die Konfrontation des Tiers, dessen animalische Sinnlichkeit und dessen Identität des Instinkts die Surrealisten faszinierte, verfolgen. Ich kenne niemanden im Bereich der Photographie, der auf derart innovative und faszinierende Weise die beiden Lebens-bereiche in einer surrealen Bilderbuchwelt zusammenspannt.

    Zum einen gibt es bei Yeros die Konfrontation des in sich ruhenden Akts mit dem Tier und damit verbunden die Reflexion der Kategorien nackt/bekleidet, natürlich/künstlich sowie der Begriffe Rationalität und Instinkt, Schönheit und Sinnlichkeit. Bei der zweiten Gruppe dreht es sich um Bilder, die man fast als eine Paraphrase von Alfred Hitchcocks Vögeln begreifen kann. Worin besteht die Anziehung für Schmetterlinge oder Schnecken, die von den erstaunten, nackten, ja überwältigten Opfern ausgeht? Die Tiere treten dem Menschen in unterschiedlicher Form und Funktion gegenüber. Einmal fast emblematisch wie in einem Kinderbuch (das Tier/der Mensch), dann wieder poetisch/narrativ im Sinne einer Typisierung von Menschen, wo das Tier vermenschlicht oder einem bestimmten Typus Mensch ein bestimmtes Tier zugeordnet wird. Aber es besteht noch darüber hinaus jener Bildtypus, der mit dem schwarzen Humor des Surrealismus die unheimliche und bedrohliche Seite des Tiers betont.

    Natürlich spielt auch dort, wo eine Berührung von Tier und Mensch stattfindet, die ätherische Kontaktnahme des Schmetterlings oder die Schleimspur der Schnecke etwa ein erotisches und sinnliches Moment auf einer metaphorischen Ebene, eine Rolle.

    Yeros operiert mit Assoziationen und Analogien. In seinen neuen Photographien beschreitet der Künstler ein Feld, welches seine Neigung zu einer märchenhaften Poesie unterstreicht.

    Peter Weiermair
    Direktor des Rupertinums
    Museum für moderne und zeitgenössische Kunst, Salzburg

    The depictions in Dimitris Yeros’s watercolors and paintings move me so because they remind me of a pithy reflection of Paul Valery: “Our most important thoughts are those that contradict our emotions.” This insight suggests that each one of us as a human being making our way on this earth in our present incarnation is decentered even to our selves. That we are a scurrying bundle of inconsistencies that speaks, acts, feels and thinks instantaneous conflict and mixed feeling. What is more is that this conflation of inner contrarieties is an essential aspect of the human condition. This psychic schema is unplanned, unrehearsed and it goes unnoticed and unreflected upon until often much later, often under painful circumstances and occasionally after harmful consequences have resulted. Of course the opposite can also be true: that happiness and serenity can settle in after years of struggling with bouts of inevitable inner turmoil and inconsistencies. Whatever the case, a quality of inevitability pervades our lives. What could we do? we ask of ourselves, rhetorically, after years have passed and we look back at our lives: .it was just the way it was.we didn’t even think about it at the time.it was meant to happen.happenstance. Such reflections offer us an entry point into our appreciation of just how nuanced and how layered the work of Dimitris Yeros actually is without appearing to be so at first glance. Psychodynamic insinuations emerging through Yeros’s charmfully evocative and seemingly effortless formal descriptive grace gives rise to the twin sensations of expansive wonderment and otherness. These sensations anchor and buoy the artist’s vision and draw us to it, as irresistible, yet inexplicable dream.

    Yeros depicts what I would call psychic allegories. Each element might be seen to personify some ongoing dynamic within the self. Often this dynamic is ambiguous or irresolvable, at other times the dynamic is more rather than less guessable. Yeros’s scenes are identifiable and intelligible through the attainment of a certain pictorial and compositional mastery: his images are gracefully and succinctly rendered with fluidity, compression and clarity. Stylistically Yeros tends toward making work using simple, reduced outlines. This sense of basic existence or existence on an elemental or primary level is foundational to Yeros’s vision. Yet there is sumptuousness to his fastidious exactitude in the treatment of surfaces, and shading—elements that somehow always appear unpredictably strange. In so doing the artist creates a universal sense of place and timeless space that has a rigorously implacable theatre-set quality reminiscent of the best work of de Chirico, Magritte and Saul Steinberg. Delicacy and strangeness are two essential ingredients at work in Yeros’s watercolors and a wondrous anxiety permeates the work. While the artist’s carefully calibrated style seems effortlessly graceful and lithe in its graphic clarity and articulated boldness it appears as if there is a secret that pervades overall—a sense that something is hiding in plain view. This something could be a quality or a condition that is implied but not made explicit. An example of such a mental paradox that Yeros sets up as part of the hidden narrative is the way his male character ( perhaps a stand-in for the artist) is seen consistently in profile running from the right as a means towards exiting through what in the world of the theater is called “exiting stage left”. This code, in stage direction parlance, indicates that the actor on stage, narratologically speaking, is to make an orderly and uneventful departure so as not to detract or distract, to disappear quietly making way for more interesting events. In other words Yeros’s works on paper make their claim on the viewer by trafficking in deferral. The main character, the hero in the watercolor “Fleeing with an excuse” (2011), for example, would, in normal circumstances, have every right to be and to act concerned, even terrified at the situation in which he finds himself. Yet the artist depicts the hero in a manner that is fascinatingly ambivalent, as ambiguous as the events themselves: the hero is part of the scene, he is reacting to his predicament, yet he appears to be simultaneously removed from his situation. Faced by an impending disaster signaled by a churning active volcano we see him resolutely side-stepping fear as he exits the walls of his fortress-like room. In all of his paintings and watercolors Eros paints states of mind, bearing down on states of perception.

    These states of mind are allegoricized and personalized, of course; yet the way the artist structures and composes his scenarios is fascinating. Yeros’s characters are exiting stage left I have mentioned earlier (again: this is the code for “nothing to be alarmed about, everything is as it should be”—a provocative misdirection on the part of the artist and a clear use of situational irony). What is more, the character is depicted as exiting in a coolly unconcerned manner. Irony and cool, it may be proposed, are incompatible means toward the same end. Each enables us to speak our minds while maintaining a small margin for disclaimer. When we use irony we suppress the sense of what we mean. When we resort to cool we suppress the urgency we attach to that meaning. In the normal world you can’t operate through both systems at once. Dimitris Yeros creates a pictorial situation and elaborates a state of mind that is in essence self-contradictory by having his character and the situation in which he finds himself evoke cool and irony. In so doing Yeros captures an inconclusive dream-like essence in his work; something is left in abeyance, in a state of suspension. What becomes palpable through such irresolution is poetic paradox. Through it, Dimitris Yeros engages the viewer’s imagination while uncovering his private world’s emotional and psychic terrain. Dimitris Yeros favors images that engage all of our senses. Such imagery, mediated by happenstance and reverie, is a poetic as well as a reconciling force. Through it the artist comes to terms with the world by using an imaginative project that expands into personal and universal dimensions. Within his vision the artist finds surprising poetic relationships between the subject and the content. In doing so the practice of art for Yeros is a means and an end for self-renewal through self-revelation. For the viewer the art of Dimitris Yeros could best be viewed as cultural gifts with long-lasting effects. Such art enriches this world by offering it a different, yet unique, vision of enchantment and contemplation.

    Dominique Nahas is an independent critic and curator based in Manhattan.

    Shades Of Love - Dimitris Yeros

    Book "Shades Of Love" Out now in Greece (January 2011 for the rest of the world). Click on the image to see some excrepts from the book. Price: €60 + postage

    The book Shades of Love was in 2011 on the shortlist for the ten top books honored by the American Library Association.

    Zoom Magazine - Dimitris Yeros

    Click here to see samples from the portfolio on Dimitris Yeros as they appeared in the 2011 July issue of ZOOM magazine.

    Eyemazing Magazine fp

    Click here to see samples from the portfolio on Dimitris Yeros as they appeared in the 2012 March issue of EYEMAZING magazine.

    Dimitris Yeros Photographing Gabriel Garcia Marquez

    Dimitris Yeros Photographing Gabriel Garcia Marquez

    Published by Kerber Photo Art

    © 2017 Dimitris Yeros