Matheos Florakis and the Island of Dreams: Mykonos
Updated: 6 days ago
“An artist who brought the world of imagination to life, admired beauty, and lived to express it.”
The painter and printmaker Matheos Florakis was born in Athens on 14 May 1935 and died in Berlin in 2011. From childhood and throughout his adolescence, his profound affinity for painting and literature became increasingly evident. From an early age, books and images became two parallel paths of expression and discovery, nourishing his imagination and sensitivity.
It was a different era, when the creative impulses of young people found an outlet in the pages of youth magazines. Children submitted their own work, exchanged letters, communicated through the pages of these publications, and often sought to discover the identities of their peers behind pseudonyms. It was within this milieu that Florakis’s relationship with artistic creation and the world of imagination began to take shape.
Although artistic aspirations had taken root in him from an early age, pursuing a career in the arts was by no means an obvious path within his family and social environment. His childhood dream, in fact, was to enter the Hellenic Military Academy (Evelpidon). After completing secondary school, he was eventually admitted to the Academy, fulfilling a romantic aspiration that would, however, lead him into a profound inner impasse. He increasingly sought solace in painting, books, and poetry.
Following health problems, including gastric and duodenal ulcers, he left the army and, in the autumn of 1960, departed for Paris. There, he studied painting and printmaking at the École Nationale des Beaux-Arts, embarking on a decisive new chapter in his artistic life.
“Everything changed, even my handwriting. Only one thing remained unchanged: people’s mentality. The mentality of my family home. Naturally, nothing remains of the old ideas. How people change from one day to the next. Do not ask me whether I believe or not. I do not acknowledge consciousness, but rather the feeling of my own individual dignity […]"
(”Excerpt from the artist’s diary, in Alekos Florakis, My Brother the Painter: Matheos Florakis: From Cubism to Fantastic Realism, pp. 25–26).
As for his artistic oeuvre, Matheos Florakis’s reputation was distinctly European. He held more than sixty solo exhibitions across Europe, while also participating in numerous group exhibitions in countries around the world.
His artistic journey began with abstraction and the geometric analysis of Cubism, gradually moving beyond “the rigid geometric forms” and ultimately into the realm of the fantastic. Critics have associated the second period of his work with Fantastic Realism, a realm in which the strange and the wondrous coexist naturally with faithful representation.
The atmosphere of his works often evokes a “dark fairy tale,” as Florakis expressed himself through the fantastic, interwoven with surrealist touches. Many of his compositions reveal echoes of the visual vocabulary of Surrealism, without, however, placing his work unequivocally within the movement.
It is precisely this synthesis -the fidelity to reality, its magical transformation, and an oneiric sensibility- that constitutes the distinctive signature of his work.
At the Municipal Art Gallery of Mykonos “Maria Inglesi” -an island of dreams with a long and vibrant artistic tradition- we had the opportunity to meet and speak with Mr. Alekos E. Florakis, the artist’s brother and the author of a book devoted to the life and work of Matheos Florakis.
Mr. Florakis, this question concerns roots. What are your family roots, and what did Mykonos mean to Matheos’s life and work?
Our father was from the Cyclades, originally from Naxos. Sadly, he lost his life in a road accident when I was still in the sixth grade of primary school. Our mother was from Constantinople. We did not own any property in Naxos. Nevertheless, since 1997, when my cousin’s house was restored, we have been going there regularly as well.
In earlier years, however, we had chosen Tinos as our holiday destination, renting a house there. As for Mykonos, our connection with the island began with Matheos. After completing his studies at the École des Beaux-Arts, he returned to Greece, although he had no intention of settling here permanently. He stayed in Athens for a few days, waiting to collect his paintings, and in the summer of 1964 he left for Mykonos, where he was to present his work at Galerie Artis, which belonged to his friend and fellow painter Theodoros Pantos.
That same year, he met the Mexican painter Luis Orozco, with whom he would later develop a deep and lifelong friendship. Their relationship became so close that Matheos became the godfather of Orozco’s son, Jason, and the two men became koumbaroi—godparents and close family friends, bound by a Greek tradition of spiritual kinship.
A year later, in 1965, the two artists entered into partnership and founded their own gallery, “Argo,” in the Matogianni area of Mykonos. The gallery operated during the summer season from 1965 until 1972.
Mykonos at that time was completely different from the island we know today. It already attracted tourists, but it had nothing in common with the cosmopolitan frenzy of the present day. The visitors were more appreciative of art, and the island’s artistic life was particularly vibrant. Collectors from all over the world purchased works by artists; numerous galleries were active, and exhibitions were being held almost everywhere.
Thanks to my brother, I too came to know Mykonos during that period, as we spent the summer months together on the island. Around 1970, however, things began to change. The clientele declined noticeably, rents increased considerably, and eventually Argo Gallery closed permanently in 1972.
Your book about your brother was published three years ago. Was it difficult for you to write such a personal book, and what response has it received?
My brother and I were very close, despite the considerable age difference between us. He was thirteen years older than I was. As I also mention in the book, he was a child of pre-war Greece, while I belonged to the generation that grew up during the Civil War. Between us lay the years of the Occupation, the Civil War, and several miscarriages my mother had previously suffered. Despite this, our relationship was always very close.
Our bond grew even stronger after we lost our father. I was only twelve years old and Matheos was twenty-five. I loved my brother deeply. He was a tragic figure, a man who, in a time of great poverty and deprivation, harboured great dreams. In the beginning, painting was a struggle for him.
For many years, I had wanted to do something for him. I believe that his work is still not as well known in Greece as it deserves to be, and this was one of the main reasons I decided to write the book. The greatest challenge I faced was finding a balance between my deeply personal and emotional relationship with him and the need to remain as objective as possible. I wanted to avoid the pitfalls of sentimentality without, however, suppressing or concealing our personal experience. I do not know whether I succeeded completely, but I would like to believe that I did, since the responses and reviews I have received so far have been particularly positive. At the same time, I did not attempt to idealise his image. I spoke openly about the more difficult aspects of his life: his alcoholism, his relationships with women, his family problems, the loss of his eyesight following the ingestion of methanol, and the premature end of his artistic career.
From the very beginning, starting with the book’s subtitle, My Brother the Painter, I make our relationship explicit. In the opening pages, I also discuss in detail my approach to reconstructing his life, as well as the methods I used to collect and document the available evidence.
The book was completed within a year, during the COVID-19 pandemic, when I had few distractions. The collection of the material, however, had begun much earlier, with the help of many people, including close friends and collectors, as well as my nephew, Emmanouil Florakis, and his daughter, who has inherited Matheos’s artistic talent. The book has already attracted considerable public interest, both in Greece and in Berlin. Our ambition is for it to be translated into German, so that it may reach an even wider audience. At the same time, it is my personal wish that an exhibition of my brother’s work be held in Athens in the near future. I would also like to express my warmest thanks to the Municipality of Mykonos for hosting the exhibition at the Municipal Art Gallery.
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