In the heart of the desert island of Chrissi, 8 miles South of Crete and surrounded by the Lybian Sea, a sacred forest rises. Here you can find the biggest concentration of Junipers Macrocarpa, a hard to come across mediterranean tree of rare expressivity.
It is a forest of old, elegant branches, of sorrowful elements stretched out to reach a missing source of freshwater. Here the nubby trunks are shaped by the wind. Here the roots resemble the long legs of spiders as they lay bare on the ground as a result of the sand storms, simulating the unlikely leap towards a first step which will take, if it will ever happen, at least a century. A resin tear falls from the mature cheek of a father like knot down onto a son like knot. The leafy branches whisper in the darkness forgotten tales and ancient legends about men and gods. The night envelops the juniper trees like a fresh and silent veil, reviving the forest from the excessive light and heat of the day.
A diurnal and nocturnal morphological scenario that is both evocative and remarkably dramatic, carved by an eternity of sun and salt.
This sacred forest, of five square kilometers, is the ensemble of singular and unique subjects, each one with its own character and dignity. Each one deserves its own portrait of austere uniqueness, a homage to the compelling and innocent beauty of the truth.
For this reason I decided to portray the trees using the purity of a big white cloth as a backdrop. A shroud to help me wipe away the sweat, the strain and the marks of heat, life and time. Away from the barks, the leaves and the twisted and flexible branches; arms of sinners banished from the garden of Eden by warrior angels.
A photographic cloth able to create areas of shade to isolate the figures of the trees, glorifying the nobility of the posture and all the grace of the majestic natural imperfection. A funeral sheet that envelops, protects and covers the dry branches of a nature at the same time dead and immortal.