The Artist through the eyes of his son
I was five years old when my father saw me running into the house with a black beret that a British soldier had dropped in his effort to scare away my friends and myself from the nearby field where we were playing football. It was 1955, when the rule of the British colonial authorities began to impose greater pressure on Greek Cypriots. The British forces had enforced a curfew on that day. My father in an effort to keep me in the house convinced me that the beret looked perfect on me and that was his excuse and the reason behind my first portrait.
Great was my surprise and admiration when within forty five minutes, I saw myself on canvas so real and so alive.
This was my first experience with the “artist” Victor Ioannides. It was then, that I realized that this daily occupation of my father which I used to see as a matter of routine but paid little attention to, would have produced such results. Until then, for me, this was something given normal and simple. I had never realized what it means for someone to draw.
I also remember a favorite habit he had, of sketching various persons or scenes on any occasion. He always used to carry his little sketch book never losing the opportunity to spot something that he liked and record it perfectly on paper.
Not only was I surprised, but also impressed when with a few pencil strokes before my eyes I saw on the sketch book the face of the person sitting opposite. Not to mention the surprise of the person whom he had drawn, when realizing that the sketch was representing himself. In most of the cases my father used to give it as a present to him. It was years later,that I was able to appreciate the difference between the inborn talent and the simple ability of a person to draw.
Another experience which left its mark on me, was his anxiety to see the final result of each of his paintings, especially those produced with the tempera technique.
He used to spend innumerable hours in his studio (which he himself had decorated with such love skill and taste), preparing on fire the special mixtures of the different materials.
The difficulty attached to this technique was that the composition had to be drawn before the mixture would solidify. If it dried before he finished the composition, the completion was impossible. I remember him telling me that maybe one or two out of ten or so efforts would be successful. Needless to say, the paintings which turned out to be successful, were excellent not only in terms of texture but also in brightness and liveliness.
When I was asked to write this text, I had no idea that for me this would be an exercise of self discovery. To write about one’s father, is of course clearly subjective. I am not entirely sure of the extent of avoidance of the subjectiveness of myself as a son. Parents are what is dearest and special to each and every one of us. Probably this is true of myself. Victor Ioannides is a special person not only for me. This is endorsed by everybody, his friends, his acquaintances, his students, his colleagues, his fellow teachers, newspaper articles, television, photographs of older times, art critics, writers and anyone who had the fortune to have known him through any of his various activities.
Going through material kept in my family home or elsewhere, I found myself reliving both my past and that of my father.
Delving into the past brought many emotional surprises because, even now, writing this, I discover so many unnoticed characteristics of my father. I have learnt much more about Victoris, as his close friends used to call him, another Ioannides who, because of his decent character and modesty, my father never revealed.
I discovered his innumerable awards in the artistic/cultural field and elsewhere, his natural and endless humor, his love for his students and his family but also for his eccentricities, his indifference to wealth and his dislike of self promotion.
I am now also aware of his unrealized dreams and wishes and feel profound sorrow that because of the age difference, we were unable to enjoy life together as we both would have wished. How much, really, would our joy and satisfaction have been, if he had been younger or myself older and more mature and had the chance of accompanying him in his travels to countries of his choice, museums and galleries.
How happy would I have been, if we had the chance to sit together, watching him paint and seeing through his eyes the light of his self satisfaction on the completion of a work of art or listen to him philosophize or criticize wrong doings.
On revealing my feelings I divulge an unaccomplished wish but it would be unfair if I didn’t say how lucky I am to have been born to have grown up and lived in surroundings where only positive incentives were offered to me.
Which of all these can I recall and not give him credit for? His love for music? Which as he always used to say was his first love and initial choice of study, although finally Fire Art won him over. Two kinds of art which inside him coexisted and were carried with him until the end of his life and which he never let go and served with faith, determination, but mainly with love.
Numerous are the times when favorite pieces of classical music could be heard from his studio, in which he spent most of his time, prompting someone to believe that an orchestra was performing live.
In fact what he wanted was to play recorded excerpts of classical music and accompany them on guitar or violoncello. Uncountable were the hours which, when not painting, he played his guitar or violoncello. It was then that he needed absolute peace, but he always had to stop when I, as a youngster met with my friends to play our afternoon games in our gardens.
I was very surprised and moved when in the 80’s, he listened for the first time to a cassette which I had prepared for myself with songs by Costas Hatzis.
Surprised, because he showed great interest in a contemporary artist, since his opinion was that modern Greek songs lacked quality. He asked me for a copy of the cassette and he often listened to it and told me with great emotion that Hatzis was truly “a philosopher” and “a quality singer”.
He never told me why this had such emotive power over him. Some years later whilst talking to my mother I found the answer. It was his pleasure and satisfaction of his young son’s musical choices. Needless to say my eyes brim with tears when I hear these songs.
Another surprise revelation for me was a series of poems of different context which apparently he had written from time to time. Some were humoristic with pointed satire relating to certain persons and circumstances, some with profound feeling and erotic as well as political context. A pursuit which I had never had the chance to know that he was interested in, let alone to the point where he wanted to write poems himself.
The only thing I know relating to his fascination with poetry, was his love and admiration for the great poet Costis Palamas, whom he had the chance of meeting personally and also had the opportunity to sketch him. We still have the sketch, together with signed handwritten verse from a poem that the poet gave him, unfortunately in bad condition.
His favorite writer was none other than Nicos Kazantzakis, whose books still fill his bookshelves. Especially intriguing to me is that today, while going through different books he had read, I stumbled upon underlined passages or notes on the content of the text, which was a habit of his, so that anyone reading the books today is conscious of the previous reader’s feelings and thoughts.
I am more than anything else however truly moved when I hear others talking about my father. Whether these are his pupils, art critics, colleagues or even children of close friends who had the opportunity to hear their parents speak of the artist, friend, teacher but, more importantly so, about Victor Ioannides as a person.
His teacher and later a very good friend George Fasouliotis, wrote a short article in his newspaper Paratiritis on the 6th of February 1924, a few months after V. Ioannides arrived in Athens for his studies: “What I feel at this moment is what parents feel when they hear their child talking for the first time. I remember him as a child, before I became a teacher, standing silently, and waiting for the adults to see my sketches, so that, when they finished, he could then come to see them as well. If anyone had paid but a little attention, he would have realized that this child was destined to become an artist. The following day, this twelve year old boy would produce the same sketches. This young boy had great talent, which needed to be embraced by his hometown, and not to be over-looked and be lost like so many things for the sake of “National pride”. Art is a major talent that must be nurtured, because with this we can create the future of Greece. Three months after he left for Athens, Limassolians could see his excellent sketches in Athenean newspapers and I, with pride and pleasure, could follow his progress to become a first class artist”.
His favorite writer was none other than Nicos Kazantzakis, whose books still fill his bookshelves. Especially intriguing to me is that today, while going through different books he had read, I stumbled upon underlined passages or notes on the content of the text, which was a habit of his, so that anyone reading the books today is conscious of the previous reader’s feelings and thoughts.
I am more than anything else however truly moved when I hear others talking about my father. Whether these are his pupils, art critics, colleagues or even children of close friends who had the opportunity to hear their parents speak of the artist, friend, teacher but, more importantly so, about Victor Ioannides as a person.
His teacher and later a very good friend George Fasouliotis, wrote a short article in his newspaper Paratiritis on the 6th of February 1924, a few months after V. Ioannides arrived in Athens for his studies: “What I feel at this moment is what parents feel when they hear their child talking for the first time. I remember him as a child, before I became a teacher, standing silently, and waiting for the adults to see my sketches, so that, when they finished, he could then come to see them as well. If anyone had paid but a little attention, he would have realized that this child was destined to become an artist. The following day, this twelve year old boy would produce the same sketches. This young boy had great talent, which needed to be embraced by his hometown, and not to be over-looked and be lost like so many things for the sake of “National pride”. Art is a major talent that must be nurtured, because with this we can create the future of Greece. Three months after he left for Athens, Limassolians could see his excellent sketches in Athenean newspapers and I, with pride and pleasure, could follow his progress to become a first class artist”.
Two persons with whom a particular bond was built, first as his students and later as colleagues in Laniteio High school, were the Philologist Andreas Pastellas and the Professor of English Language, Artemis Zachariou.
Artemis Zachariou, a person Victor Ioannides loved and with whom he had developed a special friendship and shared mutual respect, writes: “My school teacher and later colleague and friend, was the person that filled us with his humour, his kindness and his love for Art. He was a pure artist, publicity and money being of no interest for him.
I characteristically remember after a comment I made regarding the low prices of his works of art, he replied: “My aim is to give the opportunity to each friend of the Arts to acquire and decorate his house with real work of art made by the hand of an artist”.
The philologist and friend of his, Andreas Pastellas, wrote in a reference to Victor Ioannides: “The presence of V. Ioannides, so much as a creator as well as a school teacher, left its mark. This is evident not only in his wider effect on the elevation of aesthetic culture of the public, but also by the rising of the number of new artists that showed their talent and abilities at a young age - from their school desks. The arrival of V. Ioannides back to his city, gave a new powerful stimulus to the then minimal occupation in Art. He combined the knowledge of a craftsman, the feeling of superior experience based on systematic study, as well as the authentic talent he had. He transferred the genuine concerns of a true artist that seeks new paths to access the target of depiction of reality”.
