“The thought of touching each point of an infinite series is not counting, if someone should imagine that the mind approaches infinity in this way. Perhaps this is impossible. For the movement of thought is not like the movement of things carried along in a continuous sequence. But, whatever the case, even if movement like this can happen, it is not counting. For counting needs discrete stopping points.”
“But how do we have God? For he travels on the true nature of thought and reality as it really is. Here is we we come to meet him, in the third lot counted from him. As Plato says, “from the undivided above” and from those things that are divided into bodies.
We need to imagine this portion of the soul as also divided into bodies and that it supplies itself in part as the size of the bodies in relations to how much each living thing is proportionally, since it gives itself to everything, even though it is one….”
“Faith in his sense of principle provided was the foundation of his great good will and fame. For Pompey the Great was not expected—should he overcome Caesar—to put down his power in deference to the laws, but people thought he would keep his political control, smooth-talking the people with the name of consulship or dictator or some other more palatable office.
Now it was imagined that Cassius, an eager and emotional man often distracted from justice by profit, was pursuing war and adventure to create some dynasty for himself rather than freedom for his fellow citizens. For in an earlier time than that, people like Cinna, Marius, and Carbo, even though they made their own country their victory prize and source for spoils, they warred by their own confession for tyranny alone.”
“Whenever I find something, I don’t wait until you say, “What’s yours is mine!” No. I say it myself. You want to know what I found? Open your pocket, the profit is clear. I am going to show you how you can become rich as fast as possible.
Oh, you’re just burning up to hear it! And you’re not wrong–I’ll will show you the shortcut to the greatest riches. Still, you will need to get a loan. You need to take out debt to make money, but I don’t want you to use a broker. I will show you a lender ready and waiting, that famous one of Cato’s, who says “Take out a mortgage with yourself!” However little you get, it will be enough, if we can make up what’s missing from our own savings.
My Lucilius, it makes no difference whether you desire nothing or you have it. The biggest deal in either situation is the same: you shouldn’t be tortured by it.”
Quotiens aliquid inveni, non expecto, donec dicas “in commune.” Ipse mihi dico. Quid sit, quod invenerim quaeris; sinum laxa, merum lucrum est. Docebo, quomodo fieri dives celerrime possis. Quam valde cupis audire! nec inmerito; ad maximas te divitias conpendiaria ducam. Opus erit tamen tibi creditore; ut negotiari possis, aes alienum facias oportet, sed nolo per intercessorem mutueris, nolo proxenetae nomen tuum iactent. Paratum tibi creditorem dabo Catonianum illum, a te mutuum sumes. Quantulumcumque est, satis erit, si, quidquid deerit, id a nobis petierimus. Nihil enim, mi Lucili, interest, utrum non desideres an habeas. Summa rei in utroque eadem est: non torqueberis.
This post is a continuation of my substack on the Iliad. Following the completion of book-by-book postsentries will fall into three basic categories: (1) new scholarship about the Iliad; (2) themes: (expressions/reflections/implications of trauma; agency and determinism; performance and reception; diverse audiences); and (3) other issues of texts/transmission/and commentary that occur to me. As a reminder, these posts will remain free, but there is an option to be a financial supporter. All proceeds from the substack are donated to classics adjacent non-profits on a monthly basis.
My apologies for a delay in posting. The end of the semester was intense, and my institution is currently debating a no-confidence vote in our president.
When I was first learning about oral-formulaic theory and the Albert-Lord notion of composition-in-performance, I approached the idea as a musician. Thanks to some arm injuries (shoulder/hand) and not playing for years to focus on grad school (a mistake), I am not much of a musician any longer, but I pretty much spent a decade of my life playing music in all different kinds of contexts prior to the old ascetic life of a ‘scholar’. So, when I read about formulae and composition-in-performance, I immediately thought about the interplay between musical improvisation (jamming!), polishing and performing set pieces, the changes wrought by audience engagement, and the tension between a song as fixed ‘text’ and its fluidity over time in performance.
As a general rule, scholars of a certain vintage resist the comparison between Homeric composition and the work of jazz musicians, thinking too much, I suspect, about improvisation and not enough about the dynamic interplay between a shared ‘song’ and the variations it can take in any given performance on stage, depending on the musicians present, what they have been listening to, and the energy of a particular audience on stage. Ersilia Dolci has written about how rhapsodic performance and jazz music are united by a flexibility of formulaic “patterns” within traditional schemes. (I also think there may be a class/race based prejudice at play here.)
Authors have in recent years focused more on the public impact of epic: Graciela Cristina Zecchin de Fasano emphasizes the importance of pleasure (terpsis) in the dimension of performance, while Manon Brouillet has emphasized the significance of kharis (“grace/pleasure”) and thambos (“”wonder”) in the dynamic ritual performance of Homer–each, in a way, dovetail with what we know about epic performance from sources like Plato’s Ion and anticipate some of my speculations about Homer and tragedy.
Singers at the Panathenaia: Papposilenoi holding lyres walking towards a flute-player. Side A of an Attic red-figure bell-krater. MET
Homeric epic has multiple models for episodic performance: we often trot out Demodocus, Phemios, or even Achilles as representations of ‘bards’ or singers within the poems. But there is no easy way to move from these inset, short performances, to the notion of the Iliad or the Odyssey in their entirety. I have discussed in earlier posts ideas about book divisions and the relationship between episodes and the whole epic. But my notion of episodes cleverly woven together–echoing the idea of “stitching” reconstructed in the word rhapsode or in “joining/fitting” in the etymologizing of Homeros as “one who fits the song together”–seems too much like a textual editorial process, and too little situated in notions of (live) performance.
In general, I think we have a few metaphors to use to help us think about epic composition at the level of monumental performance. I have been playing with the idea of a “live album” (which I will share in a few weeks); but we also have the example of advanced musicians coming together to play through a shared canon. Gregory Nagy and Jose Gonzalez have both written extensively on the “Panathenaic rule”. In this system, under the sponsorship of the state of Athens, performers were required to perform Homeric epic in relay, that is, taking up the story one from another in pursuit of the whole. Such a performance would necessarily encourage both collaboration and competition. Consider a group of talented musicians playing a standard tune, taking turns soloing as each instrument is featured in turn. Now imagine someone recording it. The resulting ‘text’ is a fixed version of standard, reshaped by the the performers, the space, and the recording itself.
When does improvisation/innovation become canon? It can at the moment of performance, when someone hits a riff or a note that wasn’t there before but works. Other performers pick up on it, adapt to it, make it their own; audiences respond and engage, and before long, a flourish replaces the standard. (this is in part why the language of ‘variation’ can be misleading because it implies a standard, but does not necessarily contain the idea that the standard itself can be replaced over time.) In his article, “Improvisation in Rhapsodic Performance,” Derek Collins looks at several different sources to explore the extent to which rhapsodic performers of Homer were not simply flesh-bound replay devices.
Gottlieb, William P., 1917-, photographer.
[Portrait of Charlie Parker, Tommy Potter, Miles Davis, Duke Jordan, and Max Roach, Three Deuces, New York, N.Y., ca. Aug. 1947]
On of the first things that Collins focuses on is the language of rhapsodia, emphasizing that while the metaphor of ‘sewing’ may seem textual to us (in part, perhaps, because of that echo of ‘textile’), the ancient citations imply a gathering and uniting of the parts of Homeric performance, a stitching together of song not text. Collins surveys early testimonia and then moves to some parallel traditions, looking in particular at poet-singers in Cyprus who sing traditional songs, some of their own traditions, and improvised rhymes. The competitions for these singers include both prepared texts and improvisations, with opportunities for extemporaneous expansion on conventional passages. Collins offers these examples and then moves to the fictional Certamen of Homer and Hesiod to explore that dynamic between standards, competition, and improvisation.
He summarizes as follows:
Let me briefly summarize the direction to which this evidence, in my opinion, points. We know that improvisation and innovation within the tradition are attested for rhapsodes as early as the mention of Kynaithos, some time in the late sixth century B.C.E., apart from the etymological evidence for the term rhapsoidos, which may imply an even earlier improvisational capacity. I have surveyed a variety of rhapsodic games, arguing that rhapsodes were competent at many levels of poetic performance: they could, for example, competitively recite memorized verses, improvise verses on the spot for elaboration, take up and leave off the narrative wherever they saw fit, as well as perform stichic improvisation in response to questions, riddles, etc. Alcidamas, in his fourth century B.C.E. Certamen, demonstrates several kinds of rhapsodic improvisation, no doubt garnered from his experience viewing rhapsodic contests. (59) We have seen how, in the epic part of the Certamen, Alcidamas in this particular dueling game highlights the importance of enjambment as a connective technique, and we have found, not surprisingly, comparable examples of enjambment in Homeric poetry itself. But this suggests that we will have to revise our notion that rhapsodes merely “recited” memorized lines of Homeric poetry. Clearly they also improvised lines and deployed them creatively, although, in my opinion, they did so against the background of a stable body of texts, perhaps fixed by the time of Hipparkhos. (60) In addition, we must dispense with the deprecatory impression of rhapsodes given by Plato and Xenophon, (61) an impression that has been followed by modern scholars who view rhapsodic improvisations as “inferior” to Homer. (62) Rhapsodes were not competing with Homer–or with Hesiod, Archilochus, or Empedocles for that matter–when they performed. Instead they were competing with one another in the context of a live performance with the aim of outperforming their opponents and delighting their audience for ultimate victory. The difference in viewpoint here is critical.
Verbal improvisation against tradition is thus integral to the nature of rhapsodic competition in performance, and we must see that such competition is essentially a poetic game. The master of that game, like Ion who at the beginning of Plato’s dialogue has in fact just won a rhapsodic competition at Epidauros, will be the one who most deftly displays the range of rhapsodic abilities discussed here. We simply do not have enough evidence to determine which types of games were called for at given performance venues. It is more than probable that rhapsodes performing at an event like the Panathenaia, which appears to call for more extended narrative, could nevertheless incorporate the types of improvisation that I have presented. We may easily imagine one rhapsode leaving the bema at the end of his performance, and leaving off at a verse where there are several enjambment options for his competitor. The challenge for the next rhapsode, before he recited whatever passage he had chosen, would be to enter with a flourish by linking his verse spectacularly to what has preceded. Nevertheless, it is clear that until we remove the stigma attached to rhapsodes by the likes of Plato and Xenophon, we will not be able to appreciate fully the competitive virtuosity and the sheer entertainment through which generations of Greeks experienced their poetry in live performances.
Collins, whose book The Master of the Game should be read by anyone interested in early Greek poetry–presents a sensitive reading that uses ancient evidence, modern comparisons, and provides plausible approaches to that tension between ‘tradition’ and a single performance. Analogical argumentation can only take us so far, but this marshaling of evidence can help us imagine how conventional ‘songs’ of Homer could be brought together in a single ‘epic’ performance while also providing many different points for thinking through how the conditions of performance–audience response, pressures of performance, rules of the game–shape the resulting ‘text’ and its reception.
when the first odd notes wobbled out of his studio
into the small, darkened town,
summoning the insomniacs (who were up
waiting for the invention of jazz) to their windows,
but leaving the sleepers undisturbed,
evening deepening and warming the waters of their dreams.
For this is not the valved instrument of waking,
more the smoky voice of longing and loss,
the porpoise cry of the subconscious.
No one would ever think of blowing reveille
on a tenor without irony.
The men would only lie in their metal bunks,
fingers twined behind their heads,
afloat on pools of memory and desire.
And when the time has come to rouse the dead,
you will not see Gabriel clipping an alto
around his numinous neck.
An angel playing the world’s last song
on a glistening saxophone might be enough
to lift them back into the light of earth,
but really no further.
Once resurrected, they would only lie down
in the long cemetery grass
or lean alone against a lugubrious yew
and let the music do the ascending–
curling snakes charmed from their baskets–
while they wait for the shrill trumpet solo,
that will blow them all to kingdom come.
Short Bibliography
n.b. this is not exhaustive. please let me know if there are other articles to include.
Dolci, Ersilia. “Omero e Charlie Parker: le vie dei canti : per un’analisi dello stile formulare nella creazione estemporanea musicale.” Appunti Romani di Filologia, vol. 24, 2022, pp. 7-54. Doi: 10.19272/202202001001
Bakker, Egbert J.. “Homer, Odysseus, and the narratology of performance.” Narratology and interpretation: the content of narrative form in ancient literature. Eds. Grethlein, Jonas and Rengakos, Antonios. Trends in Classics. Supplementary Volumes; 4. Berlin ; New York: De Gruyter, 2009. 117-136.
Brouillet, Manon. “Faire événement : l’épopée homérique comme spectacle rituel.” Pallas, no. 107, 2018, pp. 155-173. Doi: 10.4000/pallas.9037
Brouillet, Manon. “« Thambos » et « kharis »: constructions sensorielles et expériences du divin dans les épopées homériques.” Mythos, N. S., vol. 11, 2017, pp. 83-93. Doi: 10.4000/mythos.606
Collins, Derek Burton. “Improvisation in rhapsodic performance.” Helios, vol. 28, no. 1, 2001, pp. 11-27.
González, José M.. The epic rhapsode and his craft : Homeric performance in a diachronic perspective. Hellenic Studies; 47. Washington (D. C.): Center for Hellenic Studies, 2013.
Heiden, Bruce. “The ordeals of Homeric song.” Arethusa, vol. 30, no. 2, 1997, pp. 221-240.
De Jong, Irene J. F.. “Homer : the first tragedian.” Greece and Rome, Ser. 2, vol. 63, no. 2, 2016, pp. 149-162. Doi: 10.1017/S0017383516000036
Dué, Casey. “Ἔπεα πτερόεντα: how we came to have our « Iliad ».” Recapturing a Homeric legacy. Ed. Dué, Casey. Hellenic Studies; 35. Cambridge (Mass.): Harvard University Pr., 2009. 19-30.
Karanika, Andromache. Voices at work: women, performance, and labor in ancient Greece. Baltimore (Md.): Johns Hopkins University Pr., 2014.
Kozak, L. (2023) “Happy Hour Homer: On Translating and Performing the Iliad Live in a Bar,” in This is a Classic, edited by Regina Galasso, Bloomsbury Academic, Literatures, Cultures, Translation Series, pp. 51–8.
Kretler, Katherine L.. One man show: poiesis and genesis in the « Iliad » and « Odyssey ». [S. l.]: [s. n.], 2011.
Macintosh, F., & McConnell, J. (2020). Performing epic or telling tales. Oxford University Press.
Macintosh, F., McConnell, J., Harrison, S., & Kenward, C. (Eds.). (2018). Epic Performances from the Middle Ages into the Twenty-First Century. Oxford University Press, USA.
Murray, Oswyn. “The « Odyssey » as performance poetry.” Performance, iconography, reception: studies in honour of Oliver Taplin. Eds. Revermann, Martin and Wilson, Peter J.. Oxford ; New York: Oxford University Pr., 2008. 161-176.
Nagy, Gregory. “Homer and Plato at the Panathenaia: synchronic and diachronic perspectives.” Contextualizing classics: ideology, performance, dialogue : essays in honor of John J. Peradotto. Eds. Falkner, Thomas M., Felson, Nancy and Konstan, David. Greek Studies. Lanham (Md.): Rowman and Littlefield, 1999. 123-150.
Ready, J., & Tsagalis, C. (Eds.). (2018). Homer in performance: rhapsodes, narrators, and characters. University of Texas Press.
Ready, J. L. (2023). Immersion, Identification, and the Iliad. Oxford University Press.
Reece, Steve Taylor. “Homer’s « Iliad » and « Odyssey »: from oral performance to written text.” New directions in oral theory. Ed. Amodio, Mark C.. Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies; 287. Tempe, Ariz.: Arizona center for Medieval and Renaissance studies, 2005. 43-89.
Scodel, R. (2009). Listening to Homer: tradition, narrative, and audience. University of Michigan Press.
Graciela Cristina Zecchin de Fasano, ‘Μῦθος, ἔπος y canto: la « teoría » homérica sobre el género épico’, Argos, 24. (2000) 191-203.
“From there I was carried for nine days and on the tenth
The gods drove me at night to the island where Kalypso,
That nymph with the good hair, the dread goddess lives.
She was loving me and taking care of me. But why should I tell that story again?
I already told the tale of these things yesterday in this house
To you and your wife. It is super annoying for me
To say something again once it was already said clearly.”
You start a conversation you can’t even finish it
You’re talking a lot, but you’re not saying anything
When I have nothing to say, my lips are sealed
Say something once, why say it again?
“I have done what you asked, although it was in a series of subjects which are in my works on moral philosophy. Consider what I am in the habit of telling you often: there is nothing in these kinds of studies for us other than practicing our wit. I repeatedly return to this: How does this subject help me? Make me braver now, more just, more temperate. There has been no time to practice yet, I still need my trainer beside me. Why do you ask me about useless knowledge?
You made massive promises: check this, watch!. You were saying that I would be fearless even if swords were clashing around me, even if the edges were just touching my throat–you were claiming I would feel safe, even if fires were raging around me, even if a sudden storm would toss my ship over the whole sea!
Offer me this cure now so I can spurn pleasure and glory. After that you will teach me to solve logic problems and make sense of ambiguity. For now, teach me what I need to know. BYE.”
Persolvi id quod exegeras, quamquam in ordine rerum erat, quas moralis philosophiae voluminibus complectimur. Cogita, quod soleo frequenter tibi dicere, in istis nos nihil aliud quam acumen exercere. Totiens enim illo revertor: quid ista me res iuvat? Fortiorem fac iam, iustiorem, temperantiorem. Nondum exerceri vacat; adhuc medico mihi opus est. Quid me poscis scientiam inutilem? Magna promisisti; exige, vide. Dicebas intrepidum fore, etiam si circa me gladii micarent, etiam si mucro tangeret iugulum; dicebas securum fore, etiam si circa me flagrarent incendia, etiam si subitus turbo toto navem meam mari raperet. Hanc mihi praesta curam, ut voluptatem, ut gloriam contemnam. Postea docebis inplicta solvere, ambigua distinguere, obscura perspicere; nunc doce quod necesse est. Vale.
“With those guys”: Centaurs. He introduces all of those who were bested by them so that he will seem to be superior in advice even to those who were stronger. He also doesn’t mention that Peleus was a friend of Agamemnon in order to avoid seeming to criticize Achilles, if his father obeyed him [Agamemnon] in something but he [Achilles] did not.”
“…and Tydeus’ son grabbed a stone with his hand—
A great effort which two men couldn’t replicate,
The kinds of men mortals are today. Well, he lifted it easily, even by himself”
“The kinds of people mortals are today.” This means that they are much lower than the men of the heroic age. This distance of time makes the excesses of the heroes more believable.”
“…a rock not even two of the best men of the people
Could heft easily onto a cart from the ground,
The kinds of men mortals are today. He lifted it easily even by himself.”
“Now you, then, doctor of my deepest self, tell me what benefit I will reap from my work. For the confessions of my previous mistakes–the ones you have pardoned and buried so that I might feel joy in you, changing my soul with faith and your worship–when they are read and told move the heart so that it may not slumber in desperation and just say, “I can’t”.
Instead, it will stay awake in its love of your pity and the sweetness of your grace, which makes everyone who is weak strong when you help them understand their own weakness. It pleases good people as well to hear the mistakes of those who have now escaped them. They take pleasure not because of the wrong that was done, but because those mistakes existed once but persist no more.”
(4) Verum tamen tu, medice meus intime, quo fructu ista faciam, eliqua mihi. nam confessiones praeteritorum malorum meorum, quae remisisti et texisti ut beares me in te, mutans animam meam fide et sacramento tuo, cum leguntur et audiuntur, excitant cor ne dormiat in desperatione et dicat, “non possum,” sed evigilet in amore misericordiae tuae et dulcedine gratiae tuae, qua potens est omnis infirmus qui sibi per ipsam fit conscius infirmitatis suae. et delectat bonos audire praeterita mala eorum qui iam carent eis, nec ideo delectat quia mala sunt, sed quia fuerunt et non sunt.
Hieronymus Bosch- The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things
“Think about the kinds of things that cause people to destroy each other. You will see hope, envy, hatred, fear, and contempt. Contempt is the least serious of these to such a degree that many have defaulted to it as a remedy for the others. When someone feels contempt, they do cause harm, but then move on. No one harms someone continually or quite carefully because of contempt. In battle, the fallen soldier is passed by and the fight is carried on by someone standing.
You will avoid the hope of wicked people if you possess nothing capable of inspiring someone else’s desire, if you possess nothing outstanding. People desire even small things if they are notable or rare.
You will avoid envy if you don’t parade yourself around in public, if you don’t make a big deal about your good things, if you know how to laugh in private. Hatred comes either from causing some offense–which you will avoid by not harming anyone–or it has no explanation. Common sense will make you safe from this. Still, it has been dangerous for many–there are those who have suffered hatred but have no enemy.
Moderate wealth and a kind character will prevent you from being feared. People should know that you are someone they can offend without danger and that making amends would be easy and certain. It is, indeed, as problematic to be feared at home as outside, by enslaved people as by the free. Every person has enough ability to harm you. This matters too: who ever is feared, fears as well. No one who inspires fear can feel safe.”
Considera, quae sint, quae hominem in perniciem hominis instigent: invenies spem, invidiam, odium, metum, contemptum. Ex omnibus istis adeo levissimum est contemptus, ut multi in illo remedii causa delituerint. Quem quis contemnit, violat sine dubio, sed transit; nemo homini contempto pertinaciter, nemo diligenter nocet. Etiam in acie iacens praeteritur, cum stante pugnatur. Spem inproborum vitabis, si nihil habueris, quod cupiditatem alienam et inprobam inritet, si nihil insigne possederis. Concupiscuntur enim etiam parva, si notabilia sunt, si rara.
Invidiam effugies, si te non ingesseris oculis, si bona tua non iactaveris, si scieris in sinu gaudere. odium aut est ex offensa: hoc vitabis neminem lacessendo; aut gratuitum: a quo te sensus communis tuebitur. Fuit hoc multis periculosum; quidam odium habuerunt nec inimicum Illud, ne timearis, praestabit tibi et fortunae mediocritas et ingenii lenitas; eum esse te homines sciant, quem offendere sine periculo possint; reconciliatio tua et facilis sit et certa. Timeri autem tam domi molestum est quam foris, tam a servis quam a liberis. Nulli non ad nocendum satis virium est. Adice nunc, quod qui timetur, timet; nemo potuit terribilis esse secure.
“A person of learning always has wealth on their own.
Simonides, who wrote exceptional lyric poems,
Thanks to this, lived more easily with poverty
He began to go around Asia’s noble cities
Singing the praise of victors for a set price.
Once he had done this to make a wealthier life
He planned to make a seaward journey home.
For it was on Ceos people claim he was born.
He climbed aboard a ship which an awful storm
And its advanced age caused to break apart in the sea.
Some grabbed their money-belts, others their valuable things,
Safeguards for their life. A rather curious man asked
“Simonides, you are saving none of your riches?”
He responded, “Everything that is mine is with me”
Few swam free, because most died weighed down by a drowning burden.
Then thieves arrived and seized whatever each man carried.
They left them naked. By chance, Clazomenae, that ancient city,
Was nearby. The shipwrecked men went that way.
There lived a man obsessed with the pursuit of poetry
Who had often read the poems of Simonides,
He was his greatest distant admirer.
Once he recognized Simonides from his speech alone
He greedily brought him home, and decorated him
With clothes, money, servants. The rest were carrying
Signs asking for food. When Simonides by chance
Would see these men he reported “I said that all my things
Were with me: and you lost everything you took.”
Homo doctus in se semper divitias habet.
Simonides, qui scripsit egregium melos,
quo paupertatem sustineret facilius,
circum ire coepit urbes Asiae nobiles,
mercede accepta laudem victorum canens.
Hoc genere quaestus postquam locuples factus est,
redire in patriam voluit cursu pelagio;
erat autem, ut aiunt, natus in Cia insula.
ascendit navem; quam tempestas horrida
simul et vetustas medio dissolvit mari.
Hi zonas, illi res pretiosas colligunt,
subsidium vitae. Quidam curiosior:
“Simonide, tu ex opibus nil sumis tuis?”
“Mecum” inquit “mea sunt cuncta.”Tunc pauci enatant,
quia plures onere degravati perierant.
Praedones adsunt, rapiunt quod quisque extulit,
nudos relinquunt. Forte Clazomenae prope
antiqua fuit urbs, quam petierunt naufragi.
Hic litterarum quidam studio deditus,
Simonidis qui saepe versus legerat,
eratque absentis admirator maximus,
sermone ab ipso cognitum cupidissime
ad se recepit; veste, nummis, familia
hominem exornavit. Ceteri tabulam suam
portant, rogantes victum. Quos casu obvios
Simonides ut vidit: “Dixi” inquit “mea
mecum esse cuncta; vos quod rapuistis perit.
Wreck of a small boat in Nea Artaki, Euboea, Greece
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