We took the overnight flight (the only one available) to Athens. It was amazing to me how awake I felt even with so little sleep over the previous couple of days. I was able to get one drawing done before the lights on the plane dimmed and I decided to take a short nap. But my thirty minute doze was not a good decision because when I woke up, I could tell the lack of sleep was finally starting to hit me.
I painted my backpack and messenger bag (contains all my art supplies) while waiting to leave for Greece. I bought the backpack many years ago when I lived in London and I still use it regularly when I travel. The Timbuk2 messenger bag was a recent purchase and it has a good amount of internal compartments to hold my art supplies and the overall construction seems sturdy. I only have two complaints about this bag. First, the trim on the flap tends to stick to the velco and fray and second, the two water bottle holders on the sides of the bag are a little loose around the bottles I use. A good art supply bag is hard find because most are so poorly made, but overall the Timbuk2 bag is well made so I would recommend it. Lastly, my wide brim hat comes in handy when I’m drawing without a shade tree.
On the bus to the San Francisco airport, I finally relaxed and did a drawing along the way. I chose not to listen to music because I wanted to be immersed in real sounds, real time. Headphones create a barrier, keeping the world at a distance and I wanted to escape into the sites and sounds of my trip as much as possible.
From San Francisco International Airport, we flew British Airways to London, our only stop on our way to Athens, Greece. While the flight attendants were serving drinks, I drew this sketch of the interior of the airplane.
As with most traveling experiences, I endured many frivolous hardships: short beds, curtainless showers, noisy streets, all things I would have complained about at home but hardly even noticed while being here. Greece was more than worth it, with its ancient ruins, dramatic landscape, and cultural depth that not only unveiled a new world but also a world of the past.
But after spending three weeks in Greece drawing and painting, I felt like I was just getting started. It took over a week to get beyond cell phones, email, Twitter, and my desire to keep up with news reports. Finally, the voices in my head stopped. This is when my mood really started to elevate, and my mind opened up. I wasn’t burdened by have-tos and should-haves, and my easy going attitude influenced my work. I wasn’t thinking about success so much as just enjoying the act of creating. I developed a new mode or rhythm and got into a zone. It was a comfortable place to be and so relaxing. I had clarity of mind, focused energy, and was completely present in the moment. It was like a meditation and it felt empowering. Relaxing. Fulfilling.
Monastirion Station is one of the more beautiful underground train stations I’ve been too. I love the way the top is open and the trees and buildings tower above.
When in Athens, it’s impossible to miss the giant mountain of rock called the Acropolis. It’s especially impressive in the areas of town where the Parthenon can be seen crowning the top. One of my favorite vantage points is on top of the Areopagos. When I first arrived in Athens, I climbed up the slippery rocks to the top of the hill and watched the full moon rise above the Parthenon. Unfortunately at the time, I was unable to see well enough in the dark to draw.
Toward the end of my stay, I found another great view while climbing down the Hill of the Muses. From there, I could see the Acropolis in all its splendor, dominating the city below.
On our last day in Athens, we have one prominent place left to visit, the Hill of the Muses. As we make our way around the Acropolis through zig-zagging streets, we pause for a moment to watch an organ grinder. An old man wearing a bowler hat pulls the crank while lighting up a cigarette, and an unfamiliar song begins to resonate outward. The organ itself is really the attraction, with fringe, jewelry, flowers and old black-and-white movie-star photos decorating its sides. A young boy runs around with hat in hand collecting money, replacing the traditional monkey.
With our day quickly passing, we continue our walk up the Hill of the Muses overlooking the city. Our first stop is the Prison of Socrates, where the philosopher was supposed to have been jailed before they forced him to drink deadly hemlock. He had been convicted of corrupting the youth of Athens with his philosophical teachings. This is also the site where, during the Second World War, all the Acropolis’ artifacts were hidden from the Nazis. I’m not that interested in drawing the site but my dad is insistent, so I pull out my gear and give it a shot. I’m not sure what I should include in the drawing. I know its historical significance, but the hill seems uninteresting and flat. I step back a bit to let the tree trunk cross the image and give the drawing depth. Now it starts taking on new life, and I’m glad my dad recommended drawing here.
Our second floor room is old but clean, and has a partial view of the Acropolis, which is conveniently located a few blocks away. Setting down my backpack, I pull back the curtains revealing a shallow balcony complete with bistro table and two chairs. Fortunately, the rain that welcomed us to Athens has stopped, but its presence can still be seen as water drips from the balcony above. I slide open the door and step outside just as a motorcycle whizzes along the narrow street below, leaving behind a faint smell of exhaust. From this view, the Acropolis towers above the city, a fortress embedded in a mountain of rock.
