In the history of art, there are creators recognized in their lifetime and others who require the dust of time to settle before their greatness is revealed. Then, there is Theophilos.
By:Evageline Plakas
The man who walked the streets of Mytilene and Volos wearing a stained fustanella, holding brushes made from horsehair, and who—to his contemporaries—was nothing more than a "quaint madman." Today, 92 years after his death (March 24, 1934), Theophilos Hatzimichail stands unshakeable in the pantheon of the greatest Greek painters, the man who salvaged the visual memory of a nation.
Born in Varia, Lesvos, between 1868 and 1871, Theophilos was the firstborn of a large, impoverished family. His fate seemed difficult from the start. His frail constitution and, most significantly, his left-handedness—which at the time was considered a sign of inferiority or even a curse—made him a target of violence at home and at school.
The efforts of his teachers to "correct" him and force him to use his right hand had the opposite effect: young Theophilos retreated into his own inner silence, finding his only refuge in colors. This isolation was what gave birth to the artist.
His thirst for freedom led him to Smyrna. There, working as a gatekeeper at the Greek Consulate, he came into contact with cosmopolitan Hellenism and began to shape his unique repertoire: Ancient Greece, Byzantium, and the heroic figures of the 1821 Revolution.
Following the unfortunate war of 1897, he settled in Volos. This was the period when Theophilos became the "painter of bread." He painted the walls of cafes, grocery stores, and houses in exchange for a plate of food or a few coins. Locals ridiculed him for his insistence on wearing the traditional fustanella and dressing as "Alexander the Great" during Carnival. Yet, behind the "strange" appearance was an artist who perceived the landscape and history with a clarity that the "educated" elite of the time simply could not grasp.
Theophilos’ fate in Volos was sealed by a cruel "joke." In 1927, while he was painting on a ladder in a cafe, a patron pushed him off to amuse the crowd. This fall didn't just injure his body; it wounded his soul. Humiliated, he left Magnesia and returned to Lesvos, continuing to live in absolute poverty, painting incessantly on whatever he could find: tin cans, scraps of wood, and crumbling walls.
Vindication came from Paris. The painter Giorgos Gounaropoulos was the first to discern the genius of this folk artist and spoke of him to Stratis Eleftheriades (known as Teriade). Teriade, the prominent art critic reigning in France, recognized in Theophilos an authenticity comparable to that of Henri Rousseau.
Teriade provided him with materials, supported him financially, and began collecting his work. Under Teriade's patronage, Theophilos shifted his focus; heroic themes gave way to the everyday: the harvest, fishing, and the radiant Greek summer.
Just as luck finally began to smile upon him, his heart betrayed him. On March 24, 1934, Theophilos was found dead in his humble room. The news barely made a ripple at the time, but Teriade did not forget him.
A year later, in 1935, Teriade declared to the newspaper Athinaika Nea: "Theophilos is a great Greek painter." In 1936, his first exhibition was organized in Paris, causing a stir in artistic circles. The legendary architect Le Corbusier wrote ecstatically: "He is a painter born of the Greek landscape... people bathing in a daringly dangerous tranquility." The final seal of approval came in 1961, when the works of Theophilos passed through the gates of the Louvre.
Today, the work of Theophilos is considered the "ark" of Greek folk aesthetics. He did not paint with perspective or academic rules, but with instinct. His colors—ultramarine, ochre, and terracotta—are the colors of the Aegean and Pelion.
As Odysseus Elytis wrote: "Theophilos gave us a new eye; he washed our vision just as the sun washes things after the rain."
