Cyclone Ianos.
Cyclone Ianos explores the human aftermath of disaster—focusing on farmers rebuilding their lives one year after the storm devastated Karditsa. Through film portraits, the project reflects on loss, resilience, and human responsibility toward nature, while also serving as a personal act of witnessing for the photographer, drawn to document a way of life shaped by endurance and connection to the land.
Cyclone Ianos devastated Karditsa, claiming four lives and wiping out more than 13,000 livestock animals. Entire herds, homes, and farms disappeared overnight, leaving local stock farmers without income, resources, or a sense of what came next.
One year later, our team returned to document the stories of several families affected by the disaster and the support provided by the Stavros Niarchos Foundation. At the time, I was working as 1st AC in a small, fast-moving crew: Director Dimitris Gotsis, Director of Photography Yorgos Bisdikis, Location Sound Recordist Manolis Makridakis, and Production Assistant Ilias Mertis.
From the moment I heard about the project, I knew I wanted to photograph it as well. Once our team was selected, I chose to bring a film camera—my Canon AE-1 with Kodak T-MAX 400—so I could slow down and be deliberate with each frame.
Growing up in Athens, far from any rural life or farming background, I once told my primary school class that I wanted to be a farmer. I had no connection to the profession, yet it always carried a quiet fascination for me. Meeting these families after the cyclone gave that childhood idea a different, deeper meaning.
Throughout our time there, we met farmers who were still rebuilding from nothing. A year after the storm, many were living among the mud and debris that remained, repairing homes and farms while managing the emotional weight of the loss. After every interview, I photographed a portrait—an attempt to preserve who they were at that precise moment in their recovery.
Their faces held exhaustion, resilience, and the slow process of healing. Generations of property, livestock, and work had vanished in a single day, yet they continued forward
Some of their words stayed with me:
“We are greedy. Nothing is ever enough for us. There is no need for so much interference with nature; it takes its revenge on us too.”
They didn’t blame nature or fate. They blamed human overcultivation—reminding us that they work with nature, not against it.
Another farmer spoke about the night of the storm:
“For a long period I had memory gaps, but seeing the water take my animals, hearing them bleat and not being able to save them— I will never forget that. If my father hadn’t been there, I don’t know what would have happened. I was ready to dive in and leave together with them. He held me back and told me, ‘We will rebuild everything.’”
His father stood behind the cameras during the interview, listening quietly with tears in his eyes. When we finished, he told his son: “As long as we have each other, we have exactly what our family had when we started generations ago.”