
My work explores identity, movement, and history—both personal and collective—through the lens of my Greek-American heritage. Raised in Washington, D.C., I later studied at NYU’s Gallatin School, weaving together Art, Business, and Hellenic Studies to investigate how antiquity shapes modern Greek identity, often romanticized and inherited like an heirloom. At the same time, my American upbringing exposed me to the complexities of diasporic life, where belonging is constantly negotiated. Taking over my family’s winery near Chania, Crete, deepened this inquiry, forging a connection between art and winemaking. Both are acts of transformation and storytelling, shaped by time, place, and perception. The debate in the wine world over indigenous versus international grape varieties echoes the themes I explore—identity, authenticity, and belonging. If a grape thrives in a place, who decides it doesn’t belong? This tension informs my art, where I pair Greek symbols with unexpected imagery—aliens eating souvlaki, Byzantine script on ancient-style pottery, goblins emerging from ruins—to challenge rigid ideas of tradition. I approach daily life with wit and curiosity, questioning how cultural, historical, and varietal labels can obscure more than they reveal. Who defines what is native—or what is real? My work falls into two main categories. The first is ideologically driven, using humor and introspection to question dominant narratives and unravel cultural constructs. By stripping away the superficial, I explore identity as a fluid, evolving process—much like shifting cultures and grape varieties. The second is process-based, guided by material, gesture, and repetition. Works like my Winks series begin with quick, unfiltered marks that capture fleeting moments. Many originate in the mundane: conversations about fermentation tanks become sugar-eating monsters, and idle doodles evolve into paintings, murals, or ceramics. Spontaneity is key—scribbles in the margins, repeated patterns, and instinctive mark-making recall the act of filling schoolbooks as a child. These figures often evoke childhood heroes, island landscapes, and layered memories. My love of color began in childhood, captivated by a box of markers in a stationery shop. That fascination lives on in the deep indigos and electric ultramarines I use to build surreal worlds where ancient ruins meet sci-fi creatures, and Greek temples rise among tropical trees. This dialogue between past and future extends beyond traditional media. In spaces like the Manousakis Winery, Salis and Maiami restaurants, and various private residences, I have engaged with the architecture itself—covering nearly every possible surface, from doors to walls to ceilings—transforming spaces into living works of art. While I enjoy working large scale, I’m equally drawn to intimate forms like the ceramic plates and objects I create. Rooted in experimentation, my practice blends acrylics, markers, oil pastels, metal, and fabric to dissolve boundaries between history and imagination. Recent work explores votive traditions, climate change, and the human condition. My Tamata series, inspired by ex-votos, reflects on hope, transformation, and faith—personally and culturally—beyond fixed categories. Rather than impose meaning, my work invites contradiction and complexity, capturing the shifting relationship between past and present, self and other, stillness and movement. It seeks not certainty but empathy, offering a space where all these elements can coexist and evolve.