Alexandria. Sacred soil with all its prehistoric integrity. Princess and courtesan. This is the Alexandria of Laurence Durrell (1912–1990), a captivating city where the fateful characters of the Quartet roam. The tetralogy titled The Alexandria Quartet (1957–1960) is regarded as an iconic literary work and a masterpiece of poetic prose.
It was a bold endeavor by the painter Andreas Georgiadis to transform this book, which he calls "The book of his life," into art, "with his fluid inks." To pay homage to Durrell's Alexandria, where "the dusk transforms it into a purple jungle," or where "as night falls, the thousand candelabra of its parks and buildings light up, while the palms marry the minarets," or when "the fine dust of the khamsin spreads everywhere, creating reflections and looting the scenography of the landscape."
It is by no means an easy task. The images created by the artist—emerging naturally from sequences of transmutations and interrelations charged by his personal experiences—depict his unique approach, inviting a fresh reading of the literary references implied by the titles accompanying them. Yet, Andreas Georgiadis' painting, though representational in form, is not narrative. His realism does not illustrate the pages of the book but alludes to the atmosphere and unseen stories that haunt the familiar characters, the houses, the luxury hotels, the streets, and the landscape. Moreover, the images arising from his inks are imbued with elements of lyricism and nostalgia, while simultaneously resonating with a deeper content that invites the viewer into a private dialogue. I believe, therefore, that the artist’s intention was fulfilled, as he infused the works with an independent, personal life that transcends the literary inspiration.
In 1965, when the publishing house Ikaros released George Seferis' Poems—accompanied by a series of compositions by Yiannis Moralis—the poet remarked:
"Rarely have the pairings of arts worked for me. It was always something like two horses hitched to the same carriage suddenly pulling in opposite directions. So I was hesitant about Ikaros' idea of asking Yiannis Moralis to illustrate my poems. However, when, after several months, Moralis showed me his drawings, I realized that sometimes there might not be a carriage at all, but simply two free horses galloping independently across a green meadow."
I wish for Andreas Georgiadis' horse to transform into a Pegasus, leading its rider to ever "higher" paths.
Newsletter
Copyright © 2025 Andreas Georgiadis