Spyros Haritou was a renowned photographer, born in the picturesque village of Kissonerga, located in the region of Pafos, Cyprus, in the year 1901.

During his childhood, he spent much of his time in Smyrna with his father, where they lived together before being forced to flee as refugees. Seeking refuge, they eventually made their way to Athens, where Haritou discovered his passion for the art of photography.

In the early 1920s, Haritou was repatriated to Pafos and embarked on a new journey, opening the first-ever photography studio in Ktima in 1925. Driven by a desire to further refine his craft, he emigrated to the United States in 1929, where he spent two years studying and experimenting with new techniques.

In 1931, Haritou returned to Paphos, where he would spend the majority of his career capturing the smallest and greatest moments of the district's residents through his lens.

From prominent personalities and landscapes to parades, national celebrations, feasts, flower festivals, and religious ceremonies, Haritou captured it all. He also traveled across the island, capturing the beauty of its landscapes and monuments.

With a career spanning nearly six decades, Haritou passed away in 1991, leaving behind a rich legacy of photographs that have become an important part of Pafos's cultural heritage.

His work continues to be celebrated and admired by many, and his contribution to photography and his hometown’s history will never be forgotten.

As I delved deeper into the story of Spyros Haritou, I felt increasingly compelled to preserve and showcase the value of his old photographs. To do so, I knew that I had to find Michalakis, Spyros's son, who happened to be one of my father's closest friends and was living in Athens.

With the goal of creating a set of different themes or even a biography of Spyros, I set out to visit Michalakis, knowing that this project was one that was deeply important to me for a few different reasons.

During my discussion with Michalakis in 2006, I was delighted to discover that he also engaged professionally with photography and kept his own archive of photographs. This is how the history book I published in 2012, "Limanaki Kato Pafos 1974", came to be.

Michalakis also verified the existence of his father's archive, but other than it being kept in the basement of their family home in Paphos, he knew nothing more, as he had lived in Athens since 1977.

Eager to search deeper into Spyros's archive, I approached Michalakis and asked if I could take a look at the archive and perhaps work with it. To my delight, he promptly granted me a free pass, giving me full access to the archive and providing me with an invaluable opportunity to further explore Spyros's legacy and contribution to history and the art of photography. It was a generous act on his part, and I was incredibly grateful for the chance to dive into this treasure trove of history and art.

With Michalakis' blessing, I returned to Cyprus in 2006 with a sense of purpose and determination. Upon my arrival, what I discovered there was nothing short of astounding.

As I descended into the unprotected basement of the abandoned home, I was struck by the sight before me: thousands of small boxes, meticulously archived by date, but sadly in a state of ruin, with some on the brink of disintegration.

The boxes contained dry glass negative plates, now stuck together into solid blocks, which made me realize that I had stumbled upon something truly artistically special that needed to be preserved.

At that moment, I knew that time was of the essence and that I had to act quickly to protect what remained of Spyros Haritou's archive.

I immediately set priorities and began gathering a team of experts, including architects, civil engineers, photographers, artists, curators, and friends, to help me harness the potential of this incredible archive.

Together, we brainstormed various plans, fully aware that none of us had prior expertise or familiarity with old glass plates in such a fragile state. We knew it would require careful handling and preservation techniques, and we were determined to do whatever it took to safeguard this piece of history and art. It was a challenging undertaking, but the opportunity to preserve and showcase Spyros Haritou's legacy was too important to pass up.

But as the years passed, it became increasingly clear to me that the condition of Spyros Haritou's archive made it difficult to pursue the ambitious projects I had in mind. I knew the deteriorating and damaged glass negative plates required special care and attention, and I worked tirelessly to preserve and protect the fragile contents.

At the same time, I continued to take on new art projects, including Risky Travels - my successful proposal for Pafos' candidacy for PAFOS2017 - European Capital of Culture 2017. This project allowed me to showcase the beauty and culture of Pafos to a broader audience, while also reminding me of the importance of preserving and celebrating its history and heritage.

Despite the challenges presented by Spyros Haritou's archive, I remained committed to finding a way to honor his legacy and showcase his contributions to the history of Pafos the art of photography. It was a labor of love, and I was determined to see it through no matter what.

I remember the moment vividly in 2016, as I attempted to scan a few haphazardly stacked plates on a coffee table. It was a random choice, but the results were nothing short of transformative.

The passage of time had left its mark on the glass plates, creating a unique fusion of imagery as humidity from the water channel flowing beneath the house seeped into the plates, crafting its imaginary worlds. Eventually, the chemicals that were once used to capture light in the form of a picture eroded, causing the plates to stick together.

This natural, random fusion of the plates, which would require special care to separate, urged me to experiment and look for other scanning techniques. The outcome of this process was always a surprise, resulting in images never seen before.

With a sense of urgency, I began searching for a new home for the archive, a place where it could be properly cataloged, studied, and preserved for scientific evaluation. After a lot of effort and research, I was finally able to secure a suitable space in town to house this invaluable collection of history. It was important to me that the archive be stored in a place where it would be properly taken care of for future generations to enjoy and learn from.

The results of my artistic research with the stuck-together glass negatives were first showcased at the inaugural Larnaka Biennale in 2018. For the exhibition, I submitted three fused photographs that were enlarged to 1.5 meters and titled "Souls of Paphos". The project received widespread recognition and was awarded a prize for excellence, which was a wonderful validation of the hard work and dedication that went into preserving and studying Spyros Haritou's archive. It was an honor to be able to share my findings with others and to contribute to the artistic and cultural heritage of Cyprus.

As I was trying to find a way to preserve the archive of Spyros Haritou, a sculptor friend of mine suggested that I intervene in the photographs and make additions while forgetting about my previous art for the time being. This suggestion had a profound effect on me and completely changed my approach to the archive.

I started to engage in a new dialogue with the photographs, making room for my own voice and perspective. I experimented with various techniques, patterns, and brushstrokes, always keeping in mind the preservation of the Haritou archive and the passage of time that had determined its current state.

Mr. Bakirtzis, the Director of the Anastasios G. Leventis Foundation that happened to open my 2019 exhibition titled “Metamorphosis”, made a very insightful point when he said that by "destroying" the original work, I was able to create something new, something that launched a new dialogue with the viewer.

Recently, I have come to realize the importance of unexpected events. One such incident was how the archive was discovered. The damaged state of the glass plates presented an opportunity for my artistic vision to be realized, and I am very appreciative of it.