Weather has always been a matter of concern for people everywhere, influencing our health, comfort, and well-being. Since the time of the Ancient Greeks and Babylonians, humanity has been captivated by weather phenomena and their relationship to human activity. Weather not only reminds us of our vulnerability but also carries profound aesthetic and emotional significance.As humanity has moved from praying for rain to practicing cloud seeding, weather has become a symbol of our longing for control over nature. My project, Meteorologica, explores the territory where magical thinking meets science, examining how meteorology combines intellectual, cultural, and social dimensions with artistic and even spiritual sensibilities. It questions whether a better understanding of meteorological practices through photography can play a role in communicating weather and climate information, encouraging a deeper awareness of this inevitable yet often misunderstood part of our lives.

There are stories other than the triumphant victories of Le Mans racers.

Or there could be no such stories in that sense.There is meaning beyond victories and losses. 24 hours of racing sound exhilarating but how about 365 days of driving? One’s driving routine could hold enough value to do away with heroes.

‍"How to Drive" unfolds as Katerina immerses herself in her father’s car workshop, reclaiming a space both familiar and distant. What begins as an exploration of an environment historically coded as male transforms into a study of movement, routine, and bodily perception.

‍The world of cars has long been synonymous with speed, mastery, and technological precision. But How to Drive turns attention to another kind of driving—one that is tactile, rhythmic, and deeply embodied. Katerina documents herself in motion, observing the interplay between body and machine, where every grip of the steering wheel, every press of the pedal, becomes part of an unconscious choreography. Over time, this process evolves into a ritual, an intimate performance unfolding within the car’s enclosed space.

‍The project shifts the focus from grand narratives to unnoticed gestures, from the stories we are told to the intelligence of the body itself. It echoes Ursula Le Guin’s Carrier Bag Theory, embracing untold, unheroic narratives—often linked to women’s experiences. In this way, the car is no longer just a means of movement but a vessel for memory, materiality, and self-exploration.

W.G. Sebald wrote: “We, the survivors, see everything from above, see everything at once, and still we do not know how it was.”

‍The Fumes of Mars is a photography & research project developed in the aftermath of the Mati (Attica, Greece) wildfire on the 23rd of July 2018, one of the deadliest ever recorded. It questions the official narrative by bringing together Photographs of the event and its aftermath, testimonies of numerous survivors, information from the State Investigator Report and the ongoing trial including wildfire specialists and topographical information of the area. A collection of clues, instead, weave together a collective narrative of the story.

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Mati was the area I had spent my summers as a child, the home of my parents, and ultimately the only place I could identify as ‘Home’ in my ever-transient existence. The fire rushed from the hilltop, jumping over the pine trees, and to the edge of the sea in a little more than two hours – swallowing everything in its passage. The Civil Protection agencies failed to respond to the situation or its immediate aftermath. An evacuation plan was never executed. State officials never took any responsibility.

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This work holds ongoing timeliness and relevance not because it is about my story, or my experience. Although this is the origin of the work. But because it is about lifting the lid on how a Disaster leaves traces and scars that challenge our ethics, the mechanisms of our sources of truth and our society’s relationship to the wellbeing of its members.