How faith provides artistic inspiration to Pambos Epaminondas
I once asked a private gallery owner what he considered ‘Good Art’. His reply: “Art that sells”.
It’s an attitude that’s sadly all too common in today’s art world where works that often seem silly or trivial sell and market success bears little relation to artistic merit or influence.
This is partly because we forget the role artists should play in our society.
Art should be a natural part of life, not something so precious only the rich and famous can enjoy it or so trendy that it is aimed solely at fashion victims. Art should be about touching people in truly meaningful ways.
An artist who undeniably does is Charalambos (Pambos) Epaminondas. He was a quiet child, who looked and learned, seldom speaking. Today, in his 40s, he is much the same: he prefers to let his pencil, paint and brush talk for him.
He was born and raised in the picturesque Paphos district village of Stroumbi. His parents were farmers who could see their son had a prodigious and unique talent but had little idea how to channel it.
“I was a bit of a worry to them, and I suppose I still am,” he says. “They are from the generation who saw hard work in the fields as a proper job, and didn’t feel anyone could make it in the world by just drawing and painting. Yet they did try their best for me. Typically, though, it was through the church that I first started to take art seriously and know in my self that I could be an artist.”
After graduating from art school in Thessalonica, he studied theology. This brought an exposure to sacred art, although his love for the form did not translate into an urge to join the priesthood.
“I decided I could teach theology and still paint. After all Van Gogh did the same thing except he did rather go over the top with a slightly more exuberant life style than me,” he says. Pambos qualified as a theology teacher but lasted in the profession for only 12 months.
“I just couldn’t cope with the system and the main reason I resigned was because I was against dictating to young minds. I felt theology should imbue a child with a need to learn more, to encourage young minds to open up to the concept of free will and free choices. Sadly this philosophy wasn’t approved of within the school curriculum so I went off and tried to earn money painting icons and other forms of religious works.”
Here, once again Pambos unwittingly flew in the face of the establishment. His work is not executed to the strict parameters set by the Church for icon painters.
He wanted to bring life to icons, to create a more human style. Sadly, the ancient ways of the ecclesiastical powers were not ready for such innovation.
His huge talent was swiftly going to waste, and to a certain extent still is: the commissions from the Church are not enough to keep him and his family. The power and glory that Pambos sees through his faith and which he translates into his art remain a conundrum to less brave souls within the local clergy.
That said, his icon work is glorious, infused with a great passion and sensitivity born out of a simple Christian faith and deep knowledge of the Bible. Had he been born in the 14th or 15th centuries, he would have been feted by the Church and, under its generous patronage, would have been encouraged to create his wonderful works of art for all to see and appreciate. But like the contemporary art world, the so-called modern Church seemingly wears blinkers when it comes to talent versus the tried-and-tested.
Pambos has found other ways to express his talents. He has private commissions and also illustrates his own books. Together, this enables him to all pass on positive almost Aesop-type messages to children and adults alike that tell of the traditional culture of Cyprus.
Many of his stories have been gleaned from his grandmother, a lady who enthralled young and old with her encyclopaedic memory for folk tales and her ability to tell a good story.
Pambos has now written eight story books, all beautifully illustrated. Many incorporate some of his supposedly unacceptable icon images. They are sumptuous, richly illustrated books filled with page upon page of life, colour, and glorious compositions. Each page is a work of art worthy of framing.
He plans 10 more books, but again in these modern times he is having difficulty finding a local publisher willing to take on such projects. Yet Pambos never once complained to me about his lack of support from the Church or the commercial world.
“I know it’s not going to be easy but I feel the one strong thing we have as a race is our magnificent and quite unique culture, one that’s so rich that I feel I have an obligation to put all this down on paper and on canvas,” he muses. “I sit here and just write and write and then slowly but surely the accompanying images start to come after the words, and the whole process is a labour of love. I’m happy when I work, and for me that makes for a whole person.”
