I built a digital language from folk embroidery. 
With it, I construct worlds.
Installations with light and sound. Large-scale prints. Projections. Animations.

All of it made dot by dot. 

I call it Digital Pointillism.
Greece calls me the Digital Embroiderer. The truth is somewhere in between — and much older than both.
A visual language for unwritten, unspoken things.

My studio is my screen.
My archive is the museums.

The colours are the alphabet.
The patterns are the syntax.
The symbols are the primal secrets.
Slow technology. Made by hand.




The Longer Story
I was born in Athens in 1973, into a family that carried its history in its hands.
My grandmother was from Samos. She embroidered obsessively, silently, with a precision I now understand as a form of meditation. I still remember her long white hair bent over white thread. The Samian tradition — part of the Eastern Aegean island lineage — is dense with geometric symbols and protective signs whose meanings were often forgotten, even by the women who continued to reproduce them with absolute fidelity.
These were the first images I ever knew. Long before I understood words, I understood patterns.
My mother embroidered too, during her pregnancy with me. I don't know exactly which piece she was making. But the image has stayed with me — the idea that she was holding us both together with a needle and thread.
I studied Graphic Design and Interior Decoration at the Doxiadis School of Design in Athens, graduating in 1996. I spent my twenties and early thirties as a Senior Art Director at Ogilvy, Lowe Lintas and Karamella Advertising — learning how visual systems operate at scale, how images carry ideology, how brands become languages. I enjoyed that world. But I was fluent in other people's languages. I had not yet found my own.
In 2006, everything changed.
I was commissioned to create the visual identity for the Museum of History of Nea Orestiada — a museum preserving the memory of communities displaced during the Greek–Turkish population exchange of 1923. What I found inside that archive was not a design brief. It was thousands of photographs of women, many of them unidentified — wearing, making and preserving embroideries of extraordinary complexity.
Geometric patterns that I gradually came to understand as a writing system.

A codified visual language developed over centuries by women whose voices rarely entered official history.
I spent two years inside that archive.

I catalogued.

I researched.

I reconstructed.
Beyond the visual identity, I created large-scale archival collages and site-specific installations across three floors of the museum, each serving the narrative of the exhibition in collaboration with the museological team.
To be honest, I didn't fall in love with these figures immediately. They were so oppressively silent. But then something shifted. I became possessed. Obsessed. They were disappearing — slipping into erasure, unread, unnamed — and I felt an urgent need to save them.
So I began to take them apart. Motif by motif. Pixel by pixel. Stitch by digital stitch. As I worked, I was very much aware of the women who had made these figures in the first place — sitting in the same focused silence, making the same decisions about which square to fill and which to leave empty.
I don't know if it took me more or less time than it took them.
From that immersion emerged my methodology: the dot-by-dot reconstruction of traditional embroidery patterns, preserving not only their appearance but their mathematical structure and symbolic logic. I named it Digital Pointillism.
"I followed my bliss. It led me somewhere very old, and very alive."
In 2010 I founded POSTFOLK Studio — the institutional and commercial extension of this research. A heritage design practice that has collaborated with the Greek National Opera, PPC Legacy Collections, the Benaki Museum, Nike, Grand Hyatt Athens, Mamos and Ancient Greek Sandals, among others.
In 2017, I presented POSTFOLK at the European Parliament in Brussels — BEWARE OF GREEKS — a presentation of Digital Pointillism as a living language for the preservation of intangible heritage.
But the art practice — the one that exists beyond commissions, the one that asks the harder questions — continued to grow in parallel. Today it stands at the centre of my work.
My ongoing research investigates folk embroidery as a global lexicon. For years I have documented patterns across twelve Greek islands and compared them with traditions from the Balkans, Anatolia, Central Asia and West Africa.
The same Tree of Life.

The same peacock.

The same protective eye.

Appearing independently across cultures, centuries and continents.
I am not interested in coincidence. I am interested in what this shared symbolic grammar tells us about collective memory — and about the human need to encode meaning beyond words.
In 2024 I participated in the Onassis x British Council Circular Cultures Design School in Athens, examining AI, sustainability and immateriality as structural conditions of contemporary practice. In 2025–2026 I am part of Onassis ONX Futures — a research platform engaging with immersive technologies and the shifting symbolic language of digital culture.
My work has been presented in a solo exhibition at the Victoria G. Karelias Collection in Kalamata, as a video mapping projection at the Irini Pappas School in Athens, and published in Vogue Greece, Kathimerini, GLOW and international press. In 2015 I was granted the United States O-1 Visa for Extraordinary Ability in the Arts.
Through POSTFOLK Studio, this research also takes the form of institutional collaborations and heritage design commissions.