Summer as an experience, universal, metaphysical, corporeal and idealistic, is poured out in a book by photographer Costas Masseras. The bilingual edition, entitled Exotic Summer, is an anthology of photographic interpretations of summer, both shared and intimate, and a personal experience that is always in need of reformulation. The summer of Costas Masseras reaches us beyond time, it is the summer of youth, the summer of contemplation and loneliness, the summer of childhood memories and adolescent flirtations, the summer of erotica, the summer at the center of existence.

“The photographs were created over three decades, from the 90s to the present day,” says Costas Masseras, who also wrote the lyrics for the book. “Photography accompanies my daily life, so when I went on vacation, I took a lot of pictures, but it was not enough for me. So I went to the small ports of Attica, mostly western ones, Elefsina, Megalo Pefkos and Salamis, as well as Piraeus, where development goes hand in hand with history, mythology and daily life. A few photos from Messinian Mani, where I’m from, and a few from the islands, mostly Tinos.”

The photographs are all black and white, many with strong symbolism, like allegorical comments on time expressed by the sea. “I always wanted my photographs to be timeless, so that old photographs taken on film would blend well with digital ones,” says Costas Masseras. “Black and white also plays a big role here. Otherwise, it would be with the color of the film and would be different from digital. I don’t photograph exclusively in black and white, in fact I already have material for the next book of color photographs, and it will have a similar theme, more focused on the sea.”

The geometry of the bodies of all generations is a parallel narrative. Light, water, ghostly radiance, endless play, fuss, nostalgia for the endless years of childhood … how vividly Costas Masseras writes about those years: “At the age of seven I ate firewood to get out of the sea and out of the game. My lips were bruised, as were my fingertips, but I persisted in breaking the record underwater. Then we ran and fought and rolled on the hot sand, we opened large pits, sticking thorns in the middle, covered them with a piece of plastic bag, and sand on top. We made fools of adults who drowned in these children’s traps. During the day we fished on rocks or skinned each other to finish the work of the sun. At other times, we got into trouble, sowing panic with our exclamations and ranting at the aunts, who happily treated us to a submarine or Turkish delight, if only we would sit quietly ”…