Crafts on their last legs
As Cyprus society modernises, traditional craftsmen are harder to find. Undoubtedly some products will never be made again. We speak to four practisers of dying traditions
George Orphanos, 73 and Niki Tzioni, 41
Makers of traditional clothes
Fashion is a multi-million pound industry. Clothes hold a very high position in people’s lives (even men’s), and shopping can, in some circles, even be considered a job! Streets and avenues become famous for the stores that are on them and Nicosia’s Ledra Street is a perfect example of that. But among the fabulous, cheap and sometimes ridiculously expensive boutiques and shops, one is tucked away. This shop does not stock ravishing garments; it isn’t packed with customers and it certainly isn’t popular. But it is host to a dying profession and tradition most of us didn’t even know existed. George Orphanos and Niki Tzioni specialise in making traditional Cypriot clothing.
More than 100, men and women in Cyprus had very distinctive clothes, including simple cottons and silks with little variation from village to village. The outer garments were made from alatzia, a durable cotton cloth like ticking, usually with fine vertical or crossed stripes in deep red, blue, yellow, orange or green on a white ground. The Cypriot female costume was an outer garment, the chemise and the distinctive long pantaloons caught around the ankle. The male costume was the pleated baggy trousers, or vraka, a waistcoat and jacket. The women would sometimes make and even repair their own clothes while never revealing too much. The saya, a kind of frock open at the front and sides was common in most urban and rural regions of Cyprus until the 19th century.
In the 1950s, Orphanos owned a textile factory in Kyrenia. He had several employees and loved working on clothes and other material. He also owned a factory in Strovolos making leather attire. “The traditional clothes were just one section of the business and after I lost everything to the invasion, I decided to focus on it and have managed to maintain it until this day,” he said. Although people stopped wearing traditional clothing, there has been a continuous demand from tourists and Cypriot immigrants abroad who loved the idea of owning a traditional costume as a souvenir. Orphanos catered for them and later on for students who were in need of a traditional Cypriot costume for national holiday dance celebrations. “The schools always have annual celebrations and dances, where the students dress up in the traditional costumes and dance the traditional dances.”
However, what Orphanos was doing wasn’t as simple as it sounds and neither was it as commercial. He was given the right to copy the original design and cut of a traditional costume on display at a Nicosia museum. “My dedication and enthusiasm didn’t go unnoticed and I was given the chance to carry on a tradition in the proper and original way.” Orphanos trained six girls, invested in a specific, embroidery machine and began making the costumes.
Although the style of material he uses is no longer made in Cyprus, as the last textile factory owner closed his down, the handmade, embroidered clothes are cut, sown and put together in exactly the same way as they were in the past. Niki is the last woman in Cyprus who has been trained by Orphanos. “Sewing is not my speciality but the cutting of the clothes is my responsibility and my job and it’s not an easy one. We want to be true to the original design and there’s pressure because you’re doing something that has a very short lifespan.”
Orphanos Traditional Costumes
Tel: 22 676326 or 22 675519
Kyriaki Kyratzi, 76
Silk growing
If there was ever a dying tradition, unfortunately, this is it. One of the most beautiful yet complicated and rare traditions ever in Cyprus is that of silk growing and it has reached its last thread. In the past, it was one of the main money-making, private sector businesses as men and women depended on it for their finest dresses and shirts and sometimes curtains, tablecloths and handkerchiefs. There was a time when there was no other way to obtain silk but to watch it grow and be skilfully weaved into a magnificent material. Kyriaki Kyratzi and others in her situation worked behind the scenes patiently practicing this time-consuming trade. She is the last silk grower in Cyprus.
In a small, old house near the Larnaca marina, Kyriaki Kyratzi is seated at her loom, weaving away, busy at making her new curtains. She’s been doing this since she was a young girl, following in her grandmother’s and mother’s footsteps. However, she wasn’t just learning how to make clothes, she was also being trained to grow silk; a tiring and delicate job. “Even if it wasn’t a dead profession, I don’t think the younger generation has the drive for something like this. It’s not an easy thing,” Kyriaki says.
Indeed, the silk growing procedure is not only tricky; it’s also a very long one. First, there’s the 40 day-wait. “Just when the weather starts warming up, around late March early April, that’s when the silk worms are ready to form and produce the silk.” Microscopic seeds living off old cocoons grow into worms, which then begin to feed on sycamore leaves left by Kyriaki. “You leave the small pieces of leaves further away from the cocoon so they can find their way towards it and feed on that, growing as big as a man’s finger.” Once the worms have changed colour to white, as opposed to yellow when they were smaller, they’re then rounded in a container and placed in a warm room with dry bushes. “The worms need the bushes and you can tell when they’re ready because they lift their heads up looking to climb onto something and that’s when they begin weaving. If the worms were left unattended they would just climb onto anything and anywhere. Imagine having hundreds of silk growing huts each containing millions of worms.” The bushes act as a secure way to pick the cocoon off each twig without damaging it; and although it looks like a cocoon it is indeed a ball of unprocessed silk. “It stays on the twig for a week and then it’s taken to the silk-mercer to be boiled in hot water. The threads come undone and it’s gathered on a stick.”
It’s a job that requires many skilful people grouping their knowledge and expertise in order to have an end result. “Right now, there aren’t even any silk-mercers. Our guy died recently and despite there being a couple more people who do this, it’s too expensive and frankly, there’s just no point to it. The traditional process of silk- growing has died.”
Costas Eleftheriou, 70
Potter
Although pottery is not really considered a dying tradition, with places like the Handicraft centre in Nicosia maintaining it’s vitality, aspects of this trade have not only changed throughout times but are also gone forever. Costas Eleftheriou is one the few commercial potters remaining in Cyprus and has witnessed the industry change. He has been a potter since the 1950s, when raw materials had to be gathered and distribution wasn’t as simple as it is today.
Eleftheriou started experimenting with clay when he was 15-years-old and merely interested in earning some extra money. “My godfather was a potter and one summer I went to work with him. But I enjoyed it so much, I just kept on going and eventually stopped when I was 65,” he says laughing. From then on, Eleftheriou decided he would make a living by spinning the wheel of clay, even opening his own workshop in Kyrenia in 1969. He had met his wife a few years earlier and she would help by painting decorative yet traditional designs on each piece of work produced by her husband.
However, five years after sales were up in Kyrenia and the couple was making more than enough to maintain a household and family, the Turks invaded the island and all was lost. “We didn
