Stefanos Kouratzis
The Gaze Is Not Innocent

Driving up a narrow dirt road into the hills of Pyrgos, black smoke and charcoal dust were the welcome committee. At the pit, the sun-burned owner with a distinctive V-shape on his torso nodded and smiled. His handshake was a statement.

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For generations, Pano Pyrgos Tillyria was charcoal country. More than 100 families lived and worked on charcoal production, learning the craft from their parents and grandparents, some of them at it for 35 to 40 years. The process is slow. Layers of wood covered with hay and soil, a hole formed at the top so the fire breathes and transforms wood into coal without burning it to ash. Each pit runs around ten days, depending on size, wood, and weather. The pile is constantly checked for adjustments. Opening holes for air to pass through is essential. It prevents the whole pile from becoming just ash.

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By 2007, only a handful of producers remained. Due to government limitations, mostly for environmental reasons, and cheaper charcoal imports, local production had been in constant decline for years. Work permits reduced year by year. All of them old, doing it more out of pride than profit. With this job, they say, they were able to provide for their families all those years.

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The younger generations have no interest in carrying on with the family businesses and have moved to bigger cities. A tradition dying.