BrinG back to me what you see on earth : confide in me what you hear : I shall receive everythinG into the secret workinGs of my entrails, slowly, with lauGhter and play, with slow cherishininG, stone, water, flames and earth will become spirit.
N. Kazantzakis, The Odyssey
Rena Tzolakis, by quoting these words from the Odyssey, seems to give us the key to a possible way of looking at her mysterious drawings. Drawings woven with the lustrous threads of light and the black meshes of darkness. Manichean dichotomy of chiaroscuro, of reality and the world of dreams, of the material and the spiritual. Her drawings take on the texture and colour of time, they bare the imprint of the wind, of a sea breeze bringing the memory of Ulysses into Penelope’s vacant rooms. The materiality of things is reduced to smoke. The idea of femininity, of daydreaming, of waiting, continues to direct our gaze throught so many doors opening into the light.
The spirit of the wind sets these veils ashimmer, these veils, thesespiders’ webs, these silken threads unfurled. A spirit from the shores of distant islands, from a country left for ever and yet so tenacious in the slow combustion of memory.