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24 November 2014
Vol. IV, No. 229

From The Editor: Doris Athanassakis and Weekly Hubris‘s Publishing-Editor met one another when Athanassakis was running the best restaurant (ever) on the Greek island of Santorini, “Kapari.” But Doris’s great talents as a photographer, visual artist, and body-worker overshadow even her formidable culinary skills. And still greater even than the rest of her gifts is this Austrian-Greek’s capacity for compassion and empathy, which come singing through all her “works.” Please look back through her visual offerings on Weekly Hubris, and make her acquaintance if ever you visit the Cyclades. Tim Bayer, another compassionate soul (and our magazine’s graphic designer), has a similar love of animals, as well as a sense of visual humor, both evidenced in his weekly video share, “Squirrel Defense.” Enjoy both columnists’ offerings here this Monday. EB-H

Santorini Wallpaper IX

Santorini Wallpaper IX

Out of Santorini

“Santorini Wallpaper, Portfolio II” By Doris Athanassakis

IMEROVIGLI Santorini Greece—(Weekly Hubris)—11/24/2014—Note: This portfolio of  images represents yet another offering via Weekly Hubris of works by photographer Doris Athanassakis. Here, the photographer turns her lens on elements of her analog and demotic world, focusing on the architectural elements and whitewash that are Santorini’s visual signature. Athanassakis lives in Imerovigli,  a caldera-side village on the volcanic island of  Santorini. Of Greek and Austrian heritage, Athanassakis has been photographing her island home, its architecture, and its myriad residents, all her life. Her work comprises an ongoing and lifelong meditation upon her stunningly unique surroundings . . . and herself in them. (All Athanassakis’s works are for sale, in limited edition archival prints: please contact her regarding gallery sales through her Weekly Hubris email address: athanassakis@gmx.at.) (Read more . . .)

Must .... hold ... on.

Must . . . hold . . . on.

Won Over By Reality

“Squirrel Defense” By Tim Bayer

BRIGHTON New York—(Weekly Hubris)—11/24/2014—Squirrels are excellent climbers and often plunder seeds from bird feeders, much to the chagrin of bird-loving homeowners. The bird-feeder-squirrel-defense-system portrayed in this week’s video, sent to me by Kris Abbott, is harmless, effective . . . and hilarious. (Read more . . .)

Known as the “Giant of Provence,” Mont Ventoux

Known as the “Giant of Provence,” Mont Ventoux

Eating Well Is The Best Revenge

“A Few Days In Provence” By Diana Farr Louis

ANDROS Greece—(Weekly Hubris)—11/17/2014—My father always said, “Leave at the height of the party. Don’t wait till it’s over. That way you may long for more but you’ll never be disappointed.” In July we spent five nights in Provence. The invitation came in March just as I was getting ready for another flight from Athens. That would take me to New York and then to Waveland, Mississippi, where my sisters and I would meet to say goodbye to our brother. Woody had decided to give up his battle with cancer—he’d already squeezed out three more years of life than the doctors had predicted—so this would be the last of our family reunions. (Read more . . .)

Charlotte, Ellen, Sue, Nancy . . . and I.

Charlotte, Ellen, Sue, Nancy . . . and I.

By Way of Being

“Yoga After a Year’s Absence: Back to My Future” By Elizabeth Boleman-Herring

BRIDGE & TUNNEL New Jersey—(Weekly Hubris)—11/17/2014—As my never-alas-met, always-kept-in-mind, and ever-inspiring, late master-Yoga-teacher, B.K.S. Iyengar said: “Your body exists in the past and your mind exists in the future. In Yoga, they come together in the present.” Like every good koan, Mr. Iyengar’s seemingly simple statement requires more than a little time to unpack. In my own case, that unpacking has now gone on for the 32 years I have spent mostly on but sometimes (due to illness, injury, or the wild, fey vicissitudes of life) off my Yoga mat. (Read more . . .)

Snow fire.

Snow fire.

Won Over By Reality

“Snow Fire” By Tim Bayer

BRIGHTON New York—(Weekly Hubris)—11/10/2014—I found this week’s video visually amazing since it looks as though the snow is on fire here. Self-illuminating skiers lighting the darkness around them while carving through powder is . . . just brilliant (pun intended). Before my own knees mutineed, I was an avid skier, and once blasted through waist-deep powder more than a mile high up in the Rockies: the most amazing experience. I can only imagine how much fun these light-suited skiers had, zipping through alabaster snow in the black of night. (Read more . . .)

Poet James Dickey, stoned or sober, rarely missed his mark.

Poet James Dickey, stoned or sober, rarely missed his mark.

Skip the B.S.

“Born Merry & Approaching the Age When Happy Hour Is a Nap: Alcohol” By Skip Eisiminger

CLEMSON South Carolina—(Weekly Hubris)—11/10/2014—What the British call “tea time,” and my mother called “wine-o’clock,” I call “Miller time” though it’s usually a Bud Light these days, not a Miller High Life or a highball. There’s a fair chance I was born with a slight buzz because no one ever warned Mother not to smoke or drink while she was pregnant. Indeed, many of my generation are here or were here because of alcohol and other parental escapes. Mother died thirsting for a glass of wine, which I would have poured if it had possessed the gummy consistency her doctor ordered . . . (Read more . . .)

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