The trunks of olive trees became the first surfaces to receive my thread-based installations—grids of white lines created through a meditative, ritualistic process that allowed me to connect deeply with the land and surrounding nature. Working within the landscape has been a fundamental part of my practice and comes naturally, having been raised on a farm in Central Greece. My affinity for plants often carries into my work, whether through site-specific outdoor interventions or indoor installations. I’ve incorporated acanthus leaves, asphodels, Parkinsonia trees, wildflowers, and succulents into various projects, allowing botanical elements to become both material and metaphor.
A core aspect of my artistic methodology involves recording the physical act of movement—counting steps, mapping routes, and measuring distances covered while walking through natural or urban environments. These actions often inform or accompany ephemeral interventions, later resurfacing in installations that preserve the memory of the journey. Recently, I’ve begun documenting not only distances but also the duration of these actions—adding the passage of time as another layer of presence.
Thread, yarn, and masking tape are recurring materials in my work. With them, I construct delicate networks of lines-spatial constellations that unfold across terrain or architecture. During a residency on the islet of Gozo (Malta) for Valletta 2018, I created a series of site-responsive works across the island, culminating in a larger whole mapped across 212,524 steps. My installations have animated spaces as varied as abandoned mansions, archaeological ruins, 16th-century monasteries, former tanneries, and agricultural barns, each site influencing the gesture and geometry of the work.
Light is another central element. From interventions in Athens and New York City to my 2017 installation at the Ursuline Monastery in Tinos, I have explored how beams of natural or artificial light interact with silk threads, casting patterns, dissolving forms, or burning them away. In these moments, light becomes both destructive and illuminating, revealing the fleeting nature of the work and the spaces it inhabits.
Often, my materials serve as quiet acts of healing, symbolic gestures of mending and restoration offered to structures or landscapes marked by erosion, absence, or decay. These temporary, fragile constructions do not aim for permanence; instead, they propose a momentary restoration, a humble architectural offering without the ambition of time.
My practice is shaped by a desire to perceive, understand, and include—offering spaces where viewers can measure themselves, meditate, and reflect within larger natural or historical frameworks. Measurement and light, walking and presence, restoration and erosion, geometry and fragility, these elements form a continuous search for what exists beyond, before, and after us.