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 PANAYOTIS  FATSEAS:  FACES  OF  KYTHERA  

   THE  PHOTOGRAPHER  OF  KYTHERA  

  Throughout  the  19th  and  up  to  the  middle  of  the  20th  centuries,  the  greater  part  of  worldwide  photographic  activity  revolved  around  small  local  photographic  studios.  Particularly  in  poorer  and  more  remote  regions,  such  studios  represented  virtually  the  sole  source  of  photographic  portraits  and  other  images.  Most  of  their  humble  production,  with  few  or  no  artistic  pretensions,  has  been  lost  or  destroyed;  what  survives  is  usually  approached  as  a  primary  source  for  local  history  or,  at  best,  as  perhaps  charming  but  essentially  undistinguished  example  of  vernacular  photography.  However,  in  a  few  rare  cases,  the  fluidity  of  the  photographic  medium  has  ensured  that  the  work  of  certain  almost  anonymous  practitioners  acquires  –  often  many  years  after  their  death  –  an  unexpected  and  enduring  artistic  value.    The  best-­‐known  example  is  of  course  that  of  Eugène  Atget  (1879-­‐1927),  who  in  life  described  himself  as  a  humble  producer  of  “images  for  artists”  and  is  now  regarded  as  one  of  pillars  of  photographic  modernism.  Others  include  E.J.  Bellocq  (New  Orleans,  early  1920s)  whose  hundred  or  so  glass  negative  plates  were  reclaimed  by  Lee  Friedlander;  Mike  Disfarmer,  who  worked  in  Heber  Springs,  Arkansas  during  the  thirties  and  forties;  and  the  remarkable  Malian  portraitist  Seydou  Keita.  More  recently,  in  Greece,  the  collector  Yiorgos  Golobias  was  instrumental  in  preserving  the  greater  part  of  the  negatives  of  Leonidas  Papazoglou  (Kastoria,  1872-­‐1918),  thereby  saving  an  important  body  of  work  from  certain  oblivion.1  To  these  names  can  be  added  that  of  Panayotis  Fatseas,  the  first  commercial  photographer  to  practice  on  the  island  of  Kythera,  southernmost  of  Greece’s  seven  Ionian  islands.2  Fatseas’  negatives  remained  untouched  from  his  death  in  1938  until  2002,  when  a  few  contemporary  prints  were  exhibited  during  the  first  Kythera  Photographic  Encounters.3  Since  then,  the  negatives  have  been  curated  and  catalogued,  while  further  research  has  brought  to  light  valuable  information  about  the  photographer  and  his  work.  Six  years  later,  Panayotis  Fatseas  is  revealed  as  not  merely  an  invaluable  witness  to  his  time,  but  also  as  a  significant  photographic  artist  of  the  first  half  of  the  20th  century.    It  is  to  the  photographer’s  grandson,  Panayotis  Ch.  Fatseas,  that  we  owe  the  following  biographical  information:  “Panayotis  Fatseas  was  born  to  Emmanouil  Fatseas  and  Kyriakoula  Kalligeros  in  the  village  of  Karavochori  (later  Livadi)  on  the  island  of  Kythera  on  10  March  1888.  In  September  1899  he  finished  primary  school;  on  1  July  1902  he  graduated  from  the  Kythera  Gymnasium  [secondary  school],  ending  his  third  year  with  an  assessment  of  “Good”  for  both  learning  and  conduct.  During  the  next  few  years  he  was  probably  busy  with  agricultural  work.  Thanks  to  his  status  as  the  only  son  of  a  widow  (his  father  died  in  1893),  in  early  1910  Fatseas  was  conscripted  in  the  Greek  army  for  a  limited  three-­‐month  period.    That  same  year,  aged  23,  he  emigrated  to  the  United  States  of  America.  According  to  Ellis  Island  records,  Panayotis  Em.  Fatseas  sailed  from  Le  Havre  on  the  ship  La  Gascogne,  landing  in  America  on  8  November  1910.  He  remained  in  New  York,  working  as  a  waiter  in  

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restaurants  and  hotels  and  attending  night  school.  He  returned  from  America  on  31  October  1912  following  the  declaration  of  the  First  Balkan  War.  As  he  noted  in  his  war  diary,  “Once  the  Balkan-­‐Turkish  war  was  declared,  nearly  all  the  Greeks  in  America  were  ready  to  abandon  their  occupations  and  answer  the  call  of  the  motherland…”.  He  joined  the  7th  Infantry  Regiment  as  a  volunteer,  taking  part  in  the  battles  of  Kilkis  and  Bizani”.4    

   He  must  have  been  provisionally  demobilised  on  the  signature  of  the  Greco-­‐Turkish  treaty  of  November  1913,  since  according  to  documentary  evidence,  he  began  his  professional  photographic  activities  on  Kythera  in  January  of  the  following  year,  charging  Charalambos  Stathis  the  sum  of  17.70  drachmas  “for  cards”  (i.e.,  for  postcard-­‐sized  prints).  According  to  his  children,  Fatseas  had  returned  from  the  United  States  with  a  camera,  probably  one  of  the  first  in  the  possession  of  a  Kytheriote.  While  it  seems  that  originally  he  had  no  intention  of  following  a  photographic  trade,  the  demand  for  portraits  was  apparently  such  that  he  finally  bowed  to  the  inevitable,  opening  a  studio  in  his  native  Livadi.  The  records  in  his  carefully  maintained  workbook  show  that  Fatseas  fulfilled  a  total  of  fifty  orders  during  the  course  of  1914,  almost  entirely  for  customers  from  the  south  of  the  island  –  Chora,  Livadi  and  the  adjoining  villages.  The  same  surnames  appear  over  and  over,  including  Daponte,  Charos,  Petrocheilos,  Kaloutsis,  Karatzas,  Megalokonomos,  Fatseas,  Kalligeros  and  Kassimatis.  For  reasons  which  remain  unclear,  there  followed  a  hiatus  in  his  professional  work  which  lasted  till  21  May  1920.    As  his  grandson  has  suggested,  it  is  likely  this  was  due  to  outstanding  military  obligations.  The  verso  of  a  small  photographic  portrait  of  Fatseas  in  army  uniform  (a  uniform  lacking  any  badges  of  rank  or  unit),  was  inscribed  by  himself  “In  Patras  January  6,  1916.  A  souvenir  of  Patras  during  the  campaign  of  1915  where,  as  a  result  of  being  unjustly  declared  a  deserter,  I  was  posted  temporarily”.  Whatever  the  reason  behind  this  misunderstanding,  which  was  most  likely  due  to  bureaucratic  confusion,  Fatseas  was  formally  demobilised  on  31  July  

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1916.  Returning  to  Kythera,  he  worked  at  various  occupations,  mostly  associated  with  farming  but  also  with  retail  trade,  since  in  1919  he  began  the  construction  of  a  shop  in  the  centre  of  Livadi.  In  1921  he  married  Alexandra  Stathis,  by  whom  he  was  to  have  five  children,  three  sons  and  two  daughters:  Koula  (b.1921),  Manolis  (b.1923),  Antonia  (b.1925),  Yiannis  (b.1926)  and  Charalambos  (b.1928).    The  new  building  in  Livadi  included  a  photographic  studio  and  darkroom  at  the  rear,  as  well  as  a  shop  fronting  the  main  street  which  sold,  apart  from  photographs  and  related  items,  writing  and  drawing  implements  and  haberdashery.  A  photograph  of  the  shop  taken  in  the  thirties  includes  three  separate  signs,  reading  respectively  PHOTOGRAPHIC  STUDIO,  MIRRORS  and  FRAMER,  while  the  small  central  display  window  is  full  of  framed  photographs.  Strangely  enough,  as  the  dates  of  the  portraits  taken  between  1920  and  1922  show,  he  did  not  at  first  set  up  in  the  new  building,  making  use  instead  a  room  of  the  family  home.  It  is  likely  that  some  additional  time  was  required  before  the  studio  was  finally  completed;  it  was  designed  in  traditional  19th  century  style,  with  large  windows  and  a  north-­‐facing  skylight  with  adjustable  blinds.  A  feature  of  the  studio  was  the  elaborately  carved  wooden  chair  which  figures  in  many  of  his  portraits,  as  well  as  the  decorative  painted  backdrop  commissioned  from  a  peripatetic  sign  writer.  Though  closed  for  decades,  the  building  was  still  standing  at  the  end  of  the  century.    Two  local  advertisements  of  the  period  reflect  the  range  of  Fatseas’  commercial  activities.  The  first  was  published  in  1927  in  the  newspaper  I  Kythiraiki,  and  commends  the  “Artistic  Photography  Studio  [of]  Panayotis  Fatseas”;  the  services  advertised  include  “enlargements,  copies  and  all  similar  work”,  and  it  is  emphasised  that  “orders  can  be  accepted  directly  from  America  and  Australia  for  portraits  of  the  relatives  of  immigrants”.  The  second  is  an  advertising  card  dating  from  the  thirties,  by  which  time  the  range  of  services  has  expanded:  “All  kinds  of  frames  constructed.  Mirrors  re-­‐silvered.  Photographic  enlargements,  film  developed  and  printed.  We  stock  all  photographic  materials,  mirrors,  sheet  glass  and  various  items  of  haberdashery.  Reasonable  prices”.    The  Kythiraiki  Epitheorisi  annual  of  1923  confirms  Fatseas’  commercial  success  with  the  following  entry  under  ‘Arts  and  Professions’:  “[Pan.  Fatseas]  readily  collaborated  in  the  preparation  of  this  volume,  providing  the  majority  of  photographs.  He  has  recently  demonstrated  significant  progress  in  his  art  and  has  extended  the  scope  of  his  activities,  receiving  direct  orders  from  our  fellow-­‐citizens  in  America  and  Australia  who  commission  him  to  photograph  their  relatives  on  the  Island  and  forward  the  prints”.  In  this  section,  essentially  a  directory  of  the  island’s  professions  and  tradesmen,  Fatseas’  name  is  the  only  one  to  warrant  additional  comment.  It  is  worth  noting  that  one  other  photographer  is  listed,  D.  Sofios  of  Logothetianika,  and  that  at  the  time  the  island  found  employment  for  no  fewer  than  four  “hagiographers”  (icon  painters).5    Though  essentially  self-­‐taught,  Fatseas  seems  to  have  taken  his  new  profession  seriously,  making  efforts  to  increase  his  knowledge  and  remain  as  far  as  possible  up  to  date  with  technical  developments  in  the  medium.  Paper  and  chemicals  would  be  ordered  from  the  established  Athenian  firm  of  D.  Kondos,  to  which  he  also  turned  whenever  he  needed  advice.  In  a  letter  to  Fatseas  dated  20  August  1920,  a  member  of  the  firm  advises  him  that  “Your  order  has  been  despatched,  and  I  can  tell  you  that  the  stains  on  your  postcards  are  the  

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result  of  giving  them  sufficient  time  [presumably  he  means  insufficient  washing  time];  if  you  gave  them  more  time  then  the  stains  would  not  appear…  However,  it  would  be  best  if  you  sent  us  an  example  of  the  stains  and  we  will  write  to  you  with  an  explanation”.6  Apart  from  this  source  of  professional  advice,  Fatseas  also  owned  the  two  volumes  of  what  was  at  that  time  a  basic  work  of  reference,  the  chemist  Kostas  Makris’  Elements  of  Photography  Derived  From  the  Latest  French  and  German  Publications  (1925  &  1926).  In  1928  he  also  subscribed  to  the  first  Greek  magazine  devoted  to  the  medium,  Fotografikon  Deltion  (Photographic  Bulletin).    Panayotis  Fatseas  died  at  the  tragically  early  age  of  fifty.  Suffering  from  acute  pemphigus,  a  chronic  auto-­‐immune  syndrome  whose  signs  are  evident  on  one  of  the  last  photos  taken  of  him,  he  passed  away  on  8  September  1938  in  an  Athens  hospital.  His  eldest  son,  Manolis,  who  had  learned  the  trade  from  an  early  age,  continued  to  exercise  it  after  his  father’s  death  throughout  the  war  years  and  beyond.  Together  with  his  brother  Charalambos,  they  maintained  the  photographic  studio  for  at  least  another  four  decades.  In  the  1950s  they  expanded  their  activities  by  constructing  a  small  outdoor  cinema  in  Livadi,  while  from  1953  to  1972  they  also  operated  a  mobile  projection  unit  which  organised  screenings  in  even  the  remotest  Kytherian  villages.        

 

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THE  PHOTOGRAPHIC  PROFESSION    

 

 

   Considerably  more  expensive  were  the  so-­‐called  artistic  or  ‘weekly’  prints,  which  were  always  shot  on  medium-­‐format  glass  negative  plates.  According  to  photo  historian  Fanni  Konstantinou,  ‘weekly’  prints  were  “the  outcome  of  painstaking  studio  sessions  directed  by  the  photographer  in  an  appropriate  decor,  resulting  after  retouching  in  high-­‐quality  prints  with  a  delivery  time  of  about  a  week”.8  Fatseas  rarely  shot  more  than  one  negative  per  sitting,  echoing  Costis  Antoniadis’  remark  that  in  the  Papazoglou  archive  “nearly  all  the  surviving  photographs  are  unique,  since  for  reasons  of  economy  it  was  standard  practice  for  professional  photographers  of  the  period  never  to  use  more  than  a  single  negative  plate  for  each  session”.9  Fatseas’  surviving  output  falls  entirely  within  this  second  category,  whether  in  the  shape  of  vintage  positives  or  of  glass  negatives.    

Fatseas’  professional  activities  were  of  two  kinds.  One  the  one  hand  were  photographs  destined  for  immediate,  practical  use,  specifically  small  portrait  prints  meant  to  be  attached  to  identity  documents,  certificates  and  the  like.  For  these  images,  known  as  ‘instant’  prints  which  the  client  could  collect  within  a  few  minutes,  Fatseas  used  inexpensive  paper  negatives.  According  to  his  son  Manolis,  “we  never  kept  these  negatives;  we  would  wash  them  in  a  little  water  and  throw  them  away  after  use.  We  kept  them  just  long  enough  to  make  a  print”.7  Few  if  any  of  these  thousands  of  ‘instant’  prints  have  survived.  

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In  terms  of  subject  matter,  it  consists  for  the  most  part  of  formal  portraits  of  individuals,  couples  or  small  family  and  social  groups.  The  formality  resides  in  their  being  the  result  of  a  very  specific,  indeed  almost  ceremonial  process.  The  subjects  dressed  with  care,  wearing  their  best  or  most  formal  clothing;  they  would  adjust  their  clothes  and  hair  at  the  last  moment  (the  studio  included  among  its  equipment  a  comb  and  hairbrush  for  clients’  use)  and  almost  subconsciously  arrange  themselves  in  poses  which  tended  to  be  an  accurate  reflection  of  the  group’s  social  dynamics.  The  most  important  person  would  be  placed  in  the  centre,  often  seated  rather  than  standing:  in  family  portraits  this  was  the  head  of  the  family,  in  school  photographs  the  headmaster,  in  baptisms  the  godparents,  in  weddings  the  bride  and  groom,  in  ecclesiastical  gatherings  the  bishop,  and  so  forth.  Other  ranking  members  of  the  group  –  siblings  and  close  relatives  of  the  same  generation,  senior  staff,  etc,  -­‐  were  placed  to  either  side  of  the  dominant  figure,  those  of  lesser  status  usually  stood  in  the  back  row,  while  the  youngest  either  sat  cross-­‐legged  in  the  foreground  or  were  crammed  into  the  wings.    Small,  telling  details  express  or  emphasise  class  or  aspiration,  professional  or  educational  status:  a  pocket-­‐handkerchief  or  pen  (occasionally  both  together)  in  the  breast  pocket  of  a  suit  jacket,  an  often  modest  item  of  feminine  jewellery,  the  almost  subconscious  foregrounding  of  a  wedding  or  engagement  ring,  the  bible  in  the  hands  of  a  priest,  the  gold  watch  and  chain  of  the  successful  or  merely  ambitious  businessman,  the  dandy’s  straw  boater,  the  dog  curled  up  at  the  feet  of  an  ardent  hunter,  the  luxurious  necktie  of  the  citified  clerk,  the  carefully  adjusted  headscarf  of  the  peasant  woman  –  these  were  all  signifiers  to  be  instantly  and  infallibly  decoded  by  the  recipients  of  the  portraits.      The  commonest  and  most  formal  of  all  these  images  were  undoubtedly  wedding  portraits.  According  to  Manolis  Fatseas,  “The  bride  would  come  and  dress  there,  in  the  studio.  Not  on  her  wedding  day,  but  a  few  days  later;  she  would  bring  her  wedding  gown  with  her.  There  were  no  cars  then,  it  wasn’t  easy  to  get  about”.10  It  is  noticeable  that  in  many  wedding  portraits,  the  brides  are  wearing  what  appear  to  be  similar  gowns  –  not  an  indication  that  one  and  the  same  gown  was  passing  through  many  hands,  but  rather  a  reflection  of  the  fact  that  the  same  local  seamstress  must  have  been  responsible  for  the  majority  of  Kytherian  wedding  dresses.    Weddings,  however,  were  just  one  of  life’s  milestones,  all  of  which  had  to  be  celebrated  with  due  ceremony.  These  literally  iconic  milestones  began  with  the  first  baby  or  child  photograph,  to  be  followed  perhaps  by  another  taken  in  adolescence  and  then  by  images  of  a  wedding,  a  baptism,  a  young  mother  surrounded  by  her  children,  a  large  family  group  comprising  two  or  three  generations,  the  parents  in  old  age,  ending  with  a  photograph  of  the  funeral.  In  this  society,  photographs  were  not  taken  casually  or  on  the  spur  of  the  moment;  they  were  premeditated  moves  with  an  important  role  to  play  in  maintaining  the  social  web  of  a  population  deeply  divided  by  emigration  -­‐  originally  to  Asia  Minor  and  Egypt,  later  to  the  United  States  and  Australia.  The  emigrants  would  go  off  and  then,  after  a  while,  “they  would  return,  get  married  here,  start  a  baby  and  leave  before  it  was  born  because  they  had  to  earn  money  to  live.  When  the  child  started  growing,  they  would  clamour  for  photographs  –  of  the  child,  the  family,  the  child  with  its  mother,  with  the  grandparents…”.11    

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This  craving  for  pictorial  testimony  embraced  all  of  life’s  stages,  from  the  birth  of  a  child  to  the  funeral  of  a  parent:  “My  father  attended  weddings  and  attended  funerals.  Funeral  photography  was  very  common,  because  the  children  were  abroad,  in  Australia,  and  so  their  relatives  would  send  them  a  photo  so  that  they  could  see  the  funerals  of  the  father  or  their  mother”.12  Funeral  photography  had  its  own  ceremonial:  surrounded  by  relatives,  friends  and  priests,  the  open  coffin  would  be  propped  against  an  outside  wall  of  the  dead  person’s  house,  though  the  face  usually  remained  covered.  Sometimes  a  second  photograph  would  be  taken  of  the  funeral  procession  at  the  entrance  of  the  graveyard.  Judging  by  images  in  the  Kythera  Photographic  Archive,  the  custom  persisted  for  some  time  after  the  war;  in  the  case  of  a  particularly  eminent  person,  small  hand-­‐made  photo  albums  containing  images  of  the  funeral  procession  might  later  be  distributed  to  a  restricted  circle  of  family  and  friends.13    

   As  witness  the  handwritten  dedications  and  messages  on  the  backs  of  surviving  prints,  a  fairly  rigid  protocol  governed  the  distribution  of  formal  portraits,  particularly  wedding  portraits;  all  relatives  of  the  couple  up  to  at  least  the  second  degree  of  affinity  who  were  unable  to  attend  the  wedding  had  to  receive  a  copy  with  the  appropriate  ritual  message.  At  other  times  a  portrait  photograph  might  be  sent  to  off-­‐island  relatives  to  celebrate  a  nameday,  or  even  for  no  specific  reason  other  than  to  maintain  contact.  The  dedication  behind  a  vignetted  portrait  of  Panayotis  Kassimatis  and  his  wife  sent  to  their  uncle  Spyridon  Kassimatis  in  Athens  read  as  follows:  “In  Kythera,  the  11th  of  December  1936.  Honoured  uncle  Spyro.  Upon  the  occasion  of  your  nameday  we  wish  you  many  happy  returns  and  everything  you  may  desire.  Your  nephews  Panayotis  B.  Kassimatis,  Marika  Emm.  Vardas”.            

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Most  portraits  were  taken  inside  the  studio,  where  Fatseas  had  better  control  of  natural  light.  In  certain  circumstances,  however,  he  might  travel  to  meet  his  customers;  this  would  have  been  the  case  if  they  were  particularly  aged,  like  Mr  and  Mrs  Spyro  Kavalini  in  Avelmonas  in  1927,  or  Spyro  Kassimatis’  mother  in  Karvounades,  in  1938.  At  other  times  the  client  may  have  wanted  by  the  same  opportunity  to  record  some  aspect  of  his  house  or  property,  but  such  cases  were  on  the  whole  rare.    

   Fatseas  also  undertook  outside  commissions,  photographing  social  gatherings  such  as  wedding  receptions  and  excursions.  Among  the  several  subjects  he  recorded  were  the  procession  of  the  icon  of  Panagia  Myrtidiotissa,  carnival  revels,  christenings,  parties  and  dances  as  well  as  group  photographs  of  schools,  chambers  of  commerce  and  amateur  dramatic  societies.  Other  commissions  undertaken  on  behalf  of  local  businesses  included  details  of  shops,  factories,  workshops  and  machinery;  frequently  recurring  subjects  are  the  sewing  and  embroidery  classes  organised  by  the  local  distributor  of  Vesta  brand  sewing  machines.  Finally,  there  are  a  smaller  number  of  landscapes,  views  of  Chora,  churches  and  church  interiors.  Some  of  the  latter,  mostly  of  Myrtidia  monastery,  appear  to  have  been  printed  and  circulated  as  postcards,  with  or  without  the  addition  of  a  typewritten  caption  attached  to  the  negative.    Fatseas’s  equipment  was  exceedingly  simple,  even  basic  for  its  time.  He  used  a  bellows  camera  with  an  iris  diaphragm,  a  simple  rangefinder  and  a  removable  lens,  normally  placed  on  a  tripod.  Unfortunately  the  lens  has  not  survived,  but  judging  by  results,  it  must  have  had  a  relatively  shallow  depth  of  field;  on  the  other  hand,  the  glass  negative  plates  he  used  were  capable  of  recording  very  fine  detail,  permitting  enlargements  far  beyond  the  requirements  of  his  time.  All  photographs  were  taken  by  natural  light,  since  pre-­‐war  Kythera  had  not  yet  

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been  electrified.  For  the  same  reason,  only  contact  prints  could  be  produced  locally:  “Printing  was  carried  out  in  a  very  primitive  fashion.  Developing  took  place  in  the  darkroom,  which  was  equipped  with  an  oil  lamp  obscured  with  red  paper  or  cloth.  The  printer  was  simply  a  wooden  frame  roughly  15x25  cms,  with  a  sheet  of  glass  on  one  side  and  a  sliding  cover  on  the  other.  He  would  place  the  negative  in  the  frame,  cover  it  with  a  piece  of  photographic  paper  and  slide  it  shut,  so  that  the  two  were  firmly  in  contact.  Then  he  would  expose  it  by  opening  the  door  of  the  darkroom  to  whatever  light  there  was.  He  would  time  it  by  counting  1,2,3,4,5…”.14  As  for  the  enlargements  mentioned  in  his  advertisements,  these  must  have  been  entrusted  to  a  photographic  studio  in  the  capital,  mostly  likely  once  again  that  of  Kondos.    The  ‘weekly’  prints  also  had  to  undergo  the  essential  process  of  retouching,  by  which  excess  wrinkles  and  other  marks  were  discreetly  removed  from  the  sitter’s  hands  and  face.  This  was  carried  out  with  a  red  or  black  pencil  directly  on  the  surface  of  the  negative,  placed  for  the  purpose  on  a  small  lightbox,  known  as  the  retousara  (from  the  French  ‘retouche’).  According  to  Manolis  Fatseas,  such  retouching  was  considered  essential  at  the  time:  “To  be  honest,  most  faces  were  like  mine    today,  like  unplaned  lumps  of  wood.  What  else  could  we  do?  The  faces  had  wrinkles,  they  had  this  and  that  mark,  and  so  we  patched  things  up  as  best  we  could  with  a  little  pencil”.15    Finally,  Fatseas  would  glue  the  printed  photograph  onto  a  modest  decorative  mount  of  light  or  dark  brown  cardboard,  sometimes  ribbed,  whose  size  varied  from  27x16  to  28x19  cms.  The  final  touch  was  the  addition  of  the  signature  “P.  Fatseas,  Kythera”  in  white  ink  beneath  the  lower  right  corner  of  the  image.  In  a  few  cases,  the  signature  has  been  placed  on  the  actual  surface  of  the  print,  always  on  the  lower  right.  The  simple  postcard-­‐sized  prints,  on  the  other  hand,  were  never  signed,  but  the  majority  are  identified  by  a  rubber-­‐stamped  “PAN.  FATSEAS  KYTHERA”  on  the  verso  (very  occasionally  on  the  front).    Another,  admittedly  rare  form  of  presentation  was  the  so-­‐called  vignette,  in  which  the  subject  or  subjects  (usually  a  couple)  would  be  isolated  from  the  background  from  the  waist  up.  Such  prints  were  designed  to  be  placed  in  small  oval  or  rectangular  table-­‐top  frames,  but  were  often  cut  down  with  scissors  at  a  later  date  in  order  to  fit  different  frames  or  holders.    

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THE  WORKBOOK    

 

 From  Charalambos  Stathis  for  postcard  prints       17.70  From  Moatsos  family  and  Eleni  Oikonomop.  postcards     28.50  ……………………………………………………………………………………..  Konstantinos  Petrocheilos  developing  2  rolls                6.90  

 The  third  page  saw  the  beginnings  of  at  a  more  systematised  record,  with  separate  ruled  column  for  the  name  and  surname  of  the  customer,  the  number  of  prints  and  the  total  charged,  but  these  entries  come  to  a  halt  on  the  sixth  line.    

   When  Fatseas  resumed  his  photographic  activities  once  again  on  21  May  1920,  the  entries  in  his  workbook  became  much  more  detailed,  including  information  which  would  eventually  prove  of  great  value  to  researchers.  Each  page  of  the  ledger  was  divided  into  between  seven  and  nine  ruled  columns,  a  formula  he  stuck  to  for  the  next  eighteen  years  with  only  minor  modifications:    

1.  “Name  and  surname  of  customers”,  to  which  were  sometimes  added  details  such  place  of  residence,  profession,  the  particular  occasion  or  an  order  for  enlargements.  2.  “Quantity  of  photographs  ordered”.  The  term  ‘photograph’  here  refers  exclusively  to  the  ‘weekly’  prints,  specifically  uncropped  contact  prints  of  the  entire  plate,  usually  on  a  card  mount.  3.  “Date”  (initially,  the  day  and  the  month).  4.  “Year”.  5.  “Number  of  persons  photographed”.  

Fatseas’s  workbook  is  the  most  valuable  source  of  information  we  possess  concerning  his  professional  activities.  It  consists  of  a  large,  hardbound  ledger  begun  in  January  1914  –  at  the  start,  that  is,  of  Panayotis  Fatseas’  first,  short-­‐lived  commercial  venture.  On  the  first  two  pages  he  kept  what  was  in  effect  a  brief  record  of  income  derived  from  photographic  commissions  in  the  following  format:

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6.  “Cards”,  meaning  the  number  of  additional  contact  prints  on  postcard-­‐size  paper  (9x12  cm)  ordered  by  the  customer;  these  were  effectively  cropped  all  around,  since  the  paper  was  slightly  smaller  than  the  original  negative.  7.  “Drachmas”.  The  total  charge  for  each  commission.  8.  “Plate  number”.  The  unique,  consecutive  number  assigned  to  each  glass  negative  plate.  9.  The  negative  plate  dimensions.  

 Later,  columns  3  and  4  were  merged  into  one,  drachmas  and  their  decimal  subdivision,  lepta,  briefly  acquired  separate  columns,  while  in  January  1923  another  column  was  started  listing  new,  smaller  9x12  cm  negative  plates.  This  development  must  not  have  met  with  much  success,  since  in  April  1924  the  column  was  discontinued  after  a    total  of  no  more  than  64  negatives  had  been  recorded.  At  the  foot  of  the  respective  columns  Fatseas  would  note  the  running  total  of  photographs,  cards  and  income  for  the  year;  these  were  carried  forward  from  page  to  page  but  also  from  one  year  to  the  next.  The  latter  practice  continued  for  a  decade,  up  to  1930,  ceasing  the  following  year.    During  the  first  three  years,  1920-­‐1922,  a  large  percentage  of  the  entries  (over  two-­‐thirds  in  1920)  do  not  include  a  plate  number,  instead  of  which  the  corresponding  column  simply  reads  “9x12”.  According  to  Manolis  Fatseas,  these  entries  represent  ‘instant’  prints  made  from  paper  negatives,  which  as  mentioned  above  were  not  preserved  and  therefore  did  not  merit  consecutive  numbering.  From  January  1923  they  no  longer  appear  in  the  ledger,  though  this  does  not  of  course  mean  they  were  no  longer  produced.  Beginning  in  1927,  and  without  going  into  detail,  at  the  end  of  every  year  Fatseas  would  record  a  separate  total  for  income  derived  from  ‘instant’  photography  –  income  which  during  the  next  decade  was  to  overtake  that  derived  from  the  more  artistic  ‘weekly’  commissions.    The  most  valuable  item  of  information  is  of  course  the  plate  number,  since  in  principle  it  allows  a  negative  to  be  cross-­‐referenced  with  the  workbook  data.  After  developing,  fixing  and  washing,  Fatseas  would  identify  each  plate  with  a  consecutive  number  tagged  to  the  corresponding  workbook  entry.  Sometimes,  mostly  early  on,  he  would  affix  small  squares  of  gummed  paper  to  a  corner  of  the  plate;  later  on,  he  would  inscribe  the  number  in  white  china  ink  or  engrave  it  directly  into  the  emulsion.  The  exposed  plates  would  then  be  replaced  in  the  original  manufacturers’  cardboard  boxes  in  batches  of  12  or  14.  Originally  they  were  of  French  manufacture,  sold  under  the  names  of  Jougla  or  Lumière,  while  later  they  were  German,  mostly  Agfa  or  Hauff.  Before  adding  the  full  boxes  to  the  stack  building  up  on  a  shelf  in  the  studio,  he  would  write  the  numbers  of  the  first  and  last  plate  as  well  as  the  year  on  the  leading  edge  of  each  box.    Unfortunately,  over  time  the  slow  infiltration  of  humidity  into  the  boxes  and  between  individual  plates  often  resulted  in  the  erasure  or  otherwise  destruction  of  the  reference  numbers  on  the  plates  or  of  the  data  inscribed  on  the  box  edge.  Nevertheless,  the  photographer’s  punctilious  record-­‐keeping  can  still  at  times  help  establish  the  identity  of  a  particular  negative.  If,  for  example,  we  know  that  an  unnumbered  plate  portraying  a  group  of  five  people  happens  to  come  from  a  damaged  box  with  the  indication  “1592-­‐1607”,  then  it  is  undoubtedly  negative  number  1596,  since  that  is  the  only  one  in  this  particular  batch  that  fits  the  relevant  workbook  records.  It  should  however  be  kept  in  mind  that  as  a  rule,  

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Fatseas  would  record  the  name  not  of  the  subject  or  subjects,  but  of  the  customer,  and  that  the  two  were  not  of  course  invariably  the  same.    The  final  pages  of  the  ledger  are  devoted  on  the  one  hand  to  notes  and  recipes  for  the  mixing  of  darkroom  chemicals,  and  on  the  other  to  details  of  expenditure  for  paper  and  chemicals.  It  is  worth  noting  that  among  the  recipes,  some  are  in  Greek,  some  in  English  and  some  in  French.        

                           

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ELEMENTS  OF  MICROECONOMICS    

 part  from  providing  details  of  the  date  and  subject  of  each  photograph,  Fatseas’s  

workbook  is  also  a  valuable  source  of  information  about  the  financial  aspects  of  his  profession  and  by  extension,  that  of  other  local  photographers  of  the  period.  Commenting  on  the  cost  of  portraits  in  his  father’s  time,  Manolis  Fatseas  remarks  “They  were  expensive.  For  six  postcard-­‐size  prints,  that  is  10x15  cm,  he  would  charge  about  100  drachmas,  the  equivalent  of  two  or  three  day’s  salary  for  a  labourer.  For  wedding  portraits  which  were  larger,  13x18  cm,  he  might  charge  twice  as  much,  200  drachmas”.16    Specifically,  for  six  large-­‐format  (‘weekly’)  photographs  he  would  charge  an  average  of  25  drachmas  in  1921,  60  drachmas  in  1923,  120  drachmas  in  1925,  150  drachmas  in  1927,  175  drachmas  in  1933  and  200-­‐250  drachmas  in  1927.  The  cost  of  postcard-­‐sized  prints  was  substantially  lower:  50  drachmas  for  half-­‐a-­‐dozen  in  1925,  70  drachmas  in  1927,  80  drachmas  in  1933  and  80-­‐100  drachmas  in  1937.  Of  particular  interest  are  the  annual  aggregate  totals,  which  represent  income  from  photographic  activities  alone;  other  sales  from  the  shop  such  as  frames,  mirrors  or  haberdashery  are  not  included.  For  each  year  that  the  studio  was  in  operation,  the  recorded  financial  activity  was  as  follows:      

 YEAR  

 PHOTOGRAPHS  

 CARDS  

INCOME  FROM  WEEKLY  PRINTS  (IN  DRACHMAS)  

INCOME  FROM  INSTANT  PRINTS  (IN  DRACHMAS)  

1920   215     310   1.713   ?  1921   223   528   2.661   ?  1922   568   505   3.449   ?  1923   479   358   5.731   ?  1924   257   387   5.607   ?  1925   334   366   9.143   ?  1926   276   512        12.571  17   ?  1927   293   456   14.075   4.940  1928   252   342   12.806   4.200  1929   426   446   18.824   7.774  1930   364   356   16.397   6.445  1931   96   198   6.615   4.285  1932   192   232   8.606   3.612  1933   166   352   13.065   7.796  1934   129   332   12.889   15.071  1935   147   385   13.040   15.582  1936   160   464   15.857   16.088  1937   132   653   16.335   19.365  1938   100   332   11.395   n.a.  

   Judging  by  these  figures,  the  busiest  year  was  1929,  both  in  number  of  commissions  and  in  income.  Two  years  later,  in  1931,  the  effect  of  the  Great  Depression  of  1930  makes  itself  

A  

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felt,  with  a  slight  delay:  the  number  of  commissions  falls  disastrously  from  364  to  96,  and  income  from  photography  declines  from  16,397  drachmas  the  previous  year  to  6,615.  During  the  rest  of  the  decade,  activity  picks  up  gradually,  without  however  ever  reaching  the  level  of  the  twenties,  at  least  as  far  as  the  more  expensive  ‘weekly’  prints  are  concerned.  Counter-­‐balancing  this  fall  is  a  substantial  increase  in  demand  for  the  cheaper  ‘instant’  prints,  which  by  1934  represent  the  largest  part  of  the  annual  photographic  income.    It  is  in  any  case  known  that  this  income  would  not  have  sufficed  to  maintain  Fatseas’  family  in  reasonable  comfort;  he  supplemented  it  partly  through  the  shop’s  other,  non-­‐photographic  transactions,  and  partly  with  the  traditional  agricultural  pursuits  of  most  Kytherians,  particularly  olive-­‐tree  cultivation.  “He  would  take  photographs  and  then  go  and  plough.  We  had  an  ox  back  then  which  we  shared  with  neighbours,  one  day  we  had  the  use  of  it,  the  next  they  did.  How  else  could  we  make  ends  meet?  Five  children  and  three  adults,  we  all  had  to  eat,  there  were  eight  of  us  gathered  round  the  table.  We  couldn’t  live  off  his  photography,  so  he  also  farmed,  tended  olive-­‐trees.  Bread  was  expensive  in  those  days,  up  to  ten  drachmas  a  kilo”.18      

     

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A  SMALL  SHARE  OF  IMMORTALITY    

 he  core  of  the  Fatseas  archive,  quantitatively  and  qualitatively,  is  undoubtedly  made  up  of  his  portraits.  The  most  superficial  glimpse  is  enough  to  confirm  how  different  they  are  from  the  average  commercial  portraits  of  the  period.  They  stand  out  first  of  all  thanks  to  their  immediacy  and  animation,  free  of  that  fatal  rigidity  which  transforms  so  many  subjects  of  early  20th  century  photographic  portraiture  into  mummified  dummies.  They  stare  back  at  us,  most  of  them,  seriously  but  unaffectedly.  Though  these  images  include  the  incidental  period  information  which  is  the  usual  attraction  of  old  photographs,  in  this  case  it  is  unlikely  to  hold  our  attention;  on  the  contrary,  our  gaze  settles  upon  the  evocative  faces  of  the  sitters,  upon  the  postures  which  betray  so  much  about  them  and  their  relationship  with  one  another,  and  upon  those  wonderfully  expressive  hands.  These  are,  it  seems,  paradoxically  contemporary  images  –  or  perhaps,  like  all  good  art,  they  are  simply  timeless.    

   Did  Fatseas  stage  his  portraits?  We  don’t  know.  Or  rather,  yes  –  of  course  he  staged  them;  but  he  didn’t  practice  what  is  meant  today  by  staged  photography.  In  other  words,  he  didn’t  invent  imaginary  stories  or  devise  alternative  realities.  On  the  contrary,  the  sole  purpose  of  staging  was  to  emphasise  the  objective  nature  of  those  passing  before  his  lens.  The  way  he  arranged  people  in  front  of  the  background  curtain  was  a  kind  of  staging,  and  so  was  his  ever  more  restrained  use  of  the  simple  props  he  allowed  himself:  the  few  flower  petals  scattered  on  the  floor  at  the  feet  of  the  young  girls,  the  carved  walking  stick  flourished  proudly  by  a  gendarme,  the  spring  of  basil  held  by  a  solitary    woman,  a  bouquet,  the  dog  

T

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curled  up  beneath  his  master’s  chair,  a  long-­‐barrelled  shotgun  like  an  old  musket.  And  after  all,  the  way  he  approached  his  subjects  was  itself  a  form  of  staging:  an  approach  which  instead  of  intimidating,  allowed  them  to  be,  quite  simply,  themselves.    These  portraits  offer  themselves  up  for  deliberate  scrutiny,  and  the  eye  constantly  discovers  emotionally  and  visually  charged  details  which  bring  an  added  dimension  to  the  image:  the  ‘best’  jacket  of  the  young  boy  whose  too-­‐short  sleeves  hover  just  above  the  wrists,  the  heavy  hobnailed  boots  worn  with  a  formal  suit,  or  the  almost  but  not  quite  identical  dresses  worn  by  two  young  women  of  the  same  family.  Alan  Trachtenberg’s  perceptive  comment  about  Mike  Disfarmer,  that  distant  colleague  of  Fatseas’,  applies  no  less  to  the  Greek  photographer:  “…his  people  leap  out;  nothing  distracts  attention  from  them,  from  the  physical  details  which  comprise  them  and  make  their  bodies  and  dress  and  expressions  such  plausible  vehicles  of  particular  lives  –  the  delicacy  of  a  hand  touching  a  shoulder,  the  twist  of  an  ankle,  the  tilt  of  a  hat,  the  rumpled  folds  of  trousers,  the  fall  of  cotton  dresses  on  the  work-­‐stiffened  bodies  of  country  women”.19    The  Kytherians  photographed  by  Fatseas  do  not  seem  like  impersonal  figures,  symbolic  perhaps  of  some  nostalgically  viewed  past,  but  preserve  their  individual  personalities.  The  two  or  three  days’  wages  which  they  paid  the  photographer  turn  out  to  have  been  a  good  investment,  since  alongside  the  postcard-­‐sized  prints  mailed  to  a  father  or  son  in  Australia,  they  were  –  all  unwittingly  –  also  purchasing  a  small  share  of  immortality.  Not  just  because  their  faces  have  travelled  down  the  years  to  reach  us,  but  above  all  because  the  photographer’s  alchemy  proves  such  that  before  these  miraculously  resurrected  photographs,  we  pause  involuntarily  to  study  their  image  and  wonder  who  they  were,  how  they  lived  and  what  passed  before  their  eyes.  Immortalised  by  Fatseas,  they  are  simultaneously  other  and  familiar.    

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NOTES   1  See  Leonidas  Papazoglou:  Fotografika  portraita  apo  tin  Kastoria  kai  tin  periochi  tis  tin  periodo  tou  Makedonikou  Agona,  edited  by  Costis  Antoniadis  and  Yiorgos  Golobias,  Thessaloniki  Museum  of  Photography,  2005.  2  Kythera,  or  Cerigo  as  it  was  known  under  the  Venetians,  lies  off  the  southern  tip  of  the  Peloponnesus.  With  a  total  surface  area  of  108  square  miles,  it  is  one  of  the  larger  Greek  islands.  The  permanent  population  is  currently  about  3,500;  in  the  1920s,  it  was  nearly  10,00.  3  For  further  details  regarding  the  Fatseas  archive  and  its  preservation,  see  Yannis  Stathatos,  “O  Kythirios  fotografos  Panayotis  Fatseas”  in  Ellinikes  Fotografikes  Meletes  2002,  Thessaloniki  Museum  of  Photography  &  Kythera  Photographic  Encounters,  2003.  4  Panayotis  Ch.  Fatseas,  To  archeio  tou  Kythiriou  fotografou  Panayoti  Em.  Fatsea  tis  periodou  1920-­‐1938.  Meleti  gia  ti  diasosi  tou.  Dissertation  for  the  Department  of  Preservation  of  Antiquities  and  Works  of  Art,  Athens  Technical  Institute,  2004,  p.32.  5  Sp.  Stathis,  Kythiraiki  Epitheorisis,  Athens  1923,  p.193.  6  Quoted  in  Panayotis  Ch.  Fatseas,  above,  p.35.  7  Interview  with  the  author  on  2  February  2007.  8  Fanni  Konstantinou,  “To  ergo  tou  Panou  Iliopoulou  […]”  in  the  catalogue  Panos  Iliopoulos,  Benaki  Museum,  Athens  2006,  p.7.  9  Papazoglou,  as  above,  p.23.  10  Interview,  as  above.  11  Interview,  as  above.  12  Interview,  as  above.  13  Such  a  memorial  album,  size  11x17  cms  and  containing  ten  separate  photographic  prints,  was  produced  in  an  unknown  number  of  copies  by  the  Potamos  photographer  Emmanuel  Sofios  on  the  occasion  of  the  funeral  of  the  merchant  and  one-­‐time  Mayor  of  Potamos,  M.I.  Megalokonomos.  14  Interview,  as  above,  15  Interview,  as  above.  16  Interview,  as  above.  17  Exceptionally,  Fatseas  has  noted  on  the  last  page  for  the  year  1926  an  additional  sum  of  1,350  drachmas  “from  America”,  raising  his  income  for  the  year  to  13,921  drachmas.  In  view  of  the  fact  that  only  entries  resulting  from  photographic  activities  were  recorded  in  the  workbook,  it  can  be  assumed  that  this  sum  represents  payment  for  a  large  order  from  the  United  States.  18  Interview,  as  above.  19  Alan  Trachtenberg,  “Disfarmer  and  Heber  Springs”,  in  Mike  Disfarmer,  Steidl/Steven  Kasher  Gallery,  Göttingen  &  New  York,  2005,  p.19.  

   The  original  Greek  version  of  this  text  was  published  in  Giannis  Stathatos,  Panayotis  Fatseas:  Prosopa  ton  Kytheron,  tetarto  editions,  Athens  2008.  An  English-­‐language  edition,  incorporating  the  present  text,  was  planned  but  never  published;  this  is  therefore  the  first  publication  of  the  English  version.    ©  John  Stathatos,  2014