SOLACE
A photographic journey into our places of solace.
A long-term photographic project exploring the places, people, memories and states of mind where we find peace, meaning, or escape.
Chapter II : The Place We Carry Within Us
Kopanaki
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SOLACE — Kopanaki
SOLACE — Kopanaki
The Place We Carry Within Us
The Place We Carry Within Us
Recently, I returned to the place where I grew up as a child. I had left Kopanaki in 2010, and returning was a bittersweet experience. It was not only the memories that moved me, but also the feeling that I had stepped back into another time.
Recently, I returned to the place where I grew up as a child. I had left Kopanaki in 2010, and returning was a bittersweet experience. It was not only the memories that moved me, but also the feeling that I had stepped back into another time.
To a stranger walking through Kopanaki today, some parts of the village might seem almost empty. Old houses slowly disappearing beneath vegetation, quiet streets, and traces of a way of life that seems to belong to another era. Nature continues its own rhythm, the river flows as it always has, and the landscape gradually changes around what remains of the past.
To a stranger walking through Kopanaki today, some parts of the village might seem almost empty. Old houses slowly disappearing beneath vegetation, quiet streets, and traces of a way of life that seems to belong to another era. Nature continues its own rhythm, the river flows as it always has, and the landscape gradually changes around what remains of the past.
But the people who still live here, and those who remember the village as it once was, see something different.
But the people who still live here, and those who remember the village as it once was, see something different.
They see two places at once, the village as it exists today, and the village that continues to live within their memories.
They see two places at once, the village as it exists today, and the village that continues to live within their memories.
They remember when families and friends lived close to one another, when children played in the streets and the village square, and traditions brought people together. They remember the grape harvest and winemaking, olive oil production, hunting hare in the surrounding countryside, and the shared work that connected people both to the land and to one another.
They remember when families and friends lived close to one another, when children played in the streets and the village square, and traditions brought people together. They remember the grape harvest and winemaking, olive oil production, hunting hare in the surrounding countryside, and the shared work that connected people both to the land and to one another.
They remember the busy Sundays, when the market brought people together from the village and neighbouring communities. Parents did their weekly shopping, met friends for breakfast and coffee, and caught up with familiar faces. These were simple, everyday moments, yet they gave the village its own rhythm and its people a sense of belonging.
They remember the busy Sundays, when the market brought people together from the village and neighbouring communities. Parents did their weekly shopping, met friends for breakfast and coffee, and caught up with familiar faces. These were simple, everyday moments, yet they gave the village its own rhythm and its people a sense of belonging.
And then there are the tastes and smells that remain deeply connected to the idea of home: the smell of coffee boiling in the morning, homemade cheese with sweet tomatoes freshly picked from the garden, or homecooked rooster served with pasta made by our grandmothers. Sometimes, a familiar taste or smell, even after many years, can transport us back in time, bringing to life again the people, places and moments we thought we had left behind.
And then there are the tastes and smells that remain deeply connected to the idea of home: the smell of coffee boiling in the morning, homemade cheese with sweet tomatoes freshly picked from the garden, or homecooked rooster served with pasta made by our grandmothers. Sometimes, a familiar taste or smell, even after many years, can transport us back in time, bringing to life again the people, places and moments we thought we had left behind.
These experiences were nothing extraordinary when they happened. They were simply part of everyday life. With time, however, they became the memories through which a place continues to exist.
These experiences were nothing extraordinary when they happened. They were simply part of everyday life. With time, however, they became the memories through which a place continues to exist.
Walking past an old van once used for photographing weddings and baptisms, I remembered the celebrations and gatherings that brought people together. Today, the van remains as a quiet trace of those moments, while the village around it has changed. It made me think about how much can disappear from a place without ever disappearing completely from the memories of those who knew it.
Walking past an old van once used for photographing weddings and baptisms, I remembered the celebrations and gatherings that brought people together. Today, the van remains as a quiet trace of those moments, while the village around it has changed. It made me think about how much can disappear from a place without ever disappearing completely from the memories of those who knew it.
To a stranger, a quiet street or an abandoned house might tell a story of decline. But for those who lived here, these places hold something more. Behind every familiar face lies an entire lifetime of experiences, relationships, traditions and shared moments that cannot be understood simply by looking at the landscape.
To a stranger, a quiet street or an abandoned house might tell a story of decline. But for those who lived here, these places hold something more. Behind every familiar face lies an entire lifetime of experiences, relationships, traditions and shared moments that cannot be understood simply by looking at the landscape.
For them, Kopanaki is not empty.
For them, Kopanaki is not empty.
It is filled with family and friendship, shared meals and familiar voices, childhood memories and a way of life that once felt like paradise.
It is filled with family and friendship, shared meals and familiar voices, childhood memories and a way of life that once felt like paradise.
Perhaps this is their solace.
Perhaps this is their solace.
Not necessarily in the village as it exists today, but in the place they continue to carry within themselves. A world shaped by the people they loved, the traditions they shared, and the everyday moments whose value became clear only with the passing of time.
Not necessarily in the village as it exists today, but in the place they continue to carry within themselves. A world shaped by the people they loved, the traditions they shared, and the everyday moments whose value became clear only with the passing of time.
Returning to Kopanaki made me realise that a place is more than its buildings, streets and landscape. It is everything that happened there, and everything that continues to live within the people who remember it.
Returning to Kopanaki made me realise that a place is more than its buildings, streets and landscape. It is everything that happened there, and everything that continues to live within the people who remember it.
A beautiful past, carried within a changed present.
A beautiful past, carried within a changed present.
All those memories, now touched by a bittersweet feeling, the awareness that something deeply loved can remain alive within us, even as the world that held it slowly disappears.
All those memories, now touched by a bittersweet feeling, the awareness that something deeply loved can remain alive within us, even as the world that held it slowly disappears.
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