Corfu – A gem situated opposite the boot of Italy, strategic entrance to the Adriatic, coveted and invaded for thousands of years, ruled by the Romans, Byzantines, Angevins, Venetians for 411 years, then briefly by the French, and finally by the British for fifty years until its final union with Greece in 1864, this enchanting place remains a pearl of the Mediterranean. The island carpeted with endless olive groves and dotted with cypresses beneath the bluest of skies, the indented glorious coastline beneath towering cliffs on one side and olive groves running to the water’s edge on the other, conceals a charm-filled interior, the beauty of which never seems to fade. And then there is Corfu Town – with its highly attractive Venetian-influenced architecture and its famous forts, it is one of the most picturesque towns in the whole of the Mediterranean, and today a proclaimed UNESCO World Heritage site. Against that backdrop the Corfiot heart continues to throb and Corfiot life meanders on with all its traditions, rituals and activities, posing recurring questions and suggesting deeper ponderings on so many aspects of rife. I discovered and was deeply intrigued by this side of Corfu, much of it far from any tourist crowds, some sixteen years ago. It struck me that the eroding consequence of outside influences was already exerting itself on so many facets of this life that I determined to capture what I could of all that which I was witnessing. And what better medium than to grasp the spirit of this world than by way of the black and white image. Over this sixteen year period the people of Corfu have most graciously allowed me insights into their lives… and mine.