Ian J. Cohn: Architect, Designer, and Photographer
I met Ian and his wife Vicki at our 35th class reunion when a group of us were sitting around an upstairs table at Antoine’s in the Quarter. Ian was telling all of us the story of the photographs he took back in 1972 while wandering around the village of Phlamoudhi in northeastern Cyprus. When he was a graduate student in architecture at Washington University in St. Louis, he was invited to be the photographer for an archeological expedition to Cyprus sponsored by Columbia University. His photographs of the village and its people were stored in a box where they remained for the next 35 years until being rediscovered and “declared a national ethnographic treasure.” I was fascinated by the story, and I knew then that I wanted to talk to Ian about his experiences.
Ian had attended Newman since kindergarten but left shortly before the tenth grade to attend the Gunnery, a preparatory boarding school in Connecticut. I resonated with Ian’s story of leaving Newman on short notice and losing contact with many of his Newman friends. He described it in our 50th reunion book as “a painful disconnect.” It reminded me of my own experience in leaving New Orleans, also on very short notice just before the ninth grade. Through Newman reunions over the past fifteen years Ian has reconnected with his former classmates and renewed meaningful friendships. To your right is a photo he took of his third grade class at Newman. If you save it and enlarge it, you can see that he has added his classmates' names.
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Ian and his wife Vicki Hertzberg have lived in New York City since 1976. They have two sons, Kevin Cohn (married to Karen Hunter, 2014) and Adrian Cohn, who live nearby. Vicki is the Chief Editorial Officer of Mary Ann Liebert, Inc.
Ian has had an impressive 40-year career as an award-winning architect, designer, graphic designer, and photographer. He was a founding partner in 1980 of Ian/Aaron Architects, now Diversity: Architecture and Design (www2.Diversity-NYC.com). His firm has won more than 40 awards in national graphic design competitions. You can see examples of his work in all four of his fields on his website. The website is designed to allow the visitor to take a tour of his work, and clicking on any picture will take the visitor to a new grid. If you click on the lower right square, you can see the restoration of his father's Metairie home after Katrina.
The Morris Store, designed by
Frank Lloyd Wright in 1948
In recently talking with Ian, I asked him how he decided to become an architect, and I received an unexpected answer. He became entranced with the architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright when he was six years old. The family was visiting San Francisco and he saw the Morris Store on Maiden Lane (designed by Wright and built in 1948 for the VC Morris Gift Shop). Ian remembers that Wright had even designed a special niche for the Morrises' two white Persian cats, who also draped themselves around expensive crystal. At age nine he made the decision to become an architect, and he remembers the exact moment it happened, when the radio announced the death of Frank Lloyd Wright as he was returning home from school in Metairie.
After graduating from the Gunnery, Ian went to college and architecture school at Washington University, where he earned his BA and MArch. His love of Wright's work continued, and in college he travelled to Chicago and other places in the midwest to photograph Wright's work. He and Vicki were married in 1973 and for two years lived in London, where he began his career as a staff architect for HKPA Architects. After moving back to New York, he worked as a designer for George Nelson, one of the most influential figures of mid-century design.
Coinciding with his graduate work in architecture was the beginning of the adventure with the villagers of Phlamoudhi. When I talked with Ian recently, my first question was how he was selected to be the photographer for an archeological expedition sponsored by Columbia University when he was a graduate student of architecture at Washington University in St. Louis. To answer this question, we had to go back again to age six, when he was given his first camera. Early on, he discovered that he had an interest in trying to capture on film what he saw around him, but it was not until high school, when he learned darkroom technique and purchased a SLR 35mm camera with a telephoto lens, that his childhood interest in taking pictures of friends, landscapes, and what we might now call “still lives,” developed into an interest in photography as a means of expression.
Panoramic view of Phlamoudhi from the South
In the summer of 1971 Ian travelled through Europe photographing art in museums and pioneering works of early modern architecture. He brought with him letters of introduction from Washington U’s Art History Department to ease his entry into the museums and sites he was interested in. Anticipating a way of expressing his gratitude to the department for their assistance, he took two slides of each photo with the intention of donating one of each for use in their slide library. When he arrived back in St. Louis with 400 slides, the department chair, probably overwhelmed, suggested that Ian would be the right person to give a slide presentation that would inform all the professors about the many additions to their collection.
Immediately after the presentation, Ian was approached by a member of the audience, a professor of art history of the ancient world and the field director of an archeological dig in Cyprus. He offered Ian a position as their official photographer on the spot, with a demand to know his answer that very day. Ian consulted his girlfriend (Vicki!), who encouraged the decision to accept the offer, a decision that would have a profound effect on his life and ultimately on the lives of the villagers of Phlamoudhi.
Looking back at the self-portrait photograph with Georgios Papaphotiou, his young Cypriot assistant, when he had lots of long curly hair and was wearing bell bottom blue jeans, Ian now considers it quite humorous that he actually thought it was possible for him to be inconspicuous while he walked through the village with his photographic gear. He accepted an invitation from Georgios to join his family for Sunday lunch. After a lovely lunch and leisurely afternoon, Ian took a photo of Georgios’ family as a way to say thanks. The word quickly got out among the villagers that Ian would take your picture if you invited him in for something to eat or drink, and eventually he photographed nearly everyone in the village.
Ian’s invitation to return to the dig in 1973 was rescinded when he and Vicki married in June 1973, and the director of the dig said: “No more married couples.” One year later, in summer 1974, the village of Phlamoudhi was invaded and the residents were forced to abandon their homes on a moment’s notice due to the approaching forces of Turkish military. The villagers left behind everything, including family photos and heirlooms in the belief that they would be returning soon, as they had following prior skirmishes. But that was not to be. Like over 150,000 fellow Cypriots, they were displaced, refugees within their own country. For 30 years, no Greek Cypriots were allowed to return to the north; the name Phlamoudhi – like all other Greek names - was replaced with a Turkish name (Mersenlik), and the village reoccupied by Turkish citizens (themselves displaced from the mainland. Today the former inhabitants of Phlamoudhi and their descendants are scattered across the south of Cyprus, and in diaspora around the world.
The Taverna of Themistoklis Adamou, seated fourth from left. The graffiti slogan reads "Long live the Leader Digenis." He was the popular leader of the guerilla campaign against the British, 1955-1959. In 1972, a small group of followers were still loyal to him.
Maria Lysandrou with sheep
Georgios Charalambous with
his flock of sheep in the dunes
Meanwhile Ian returned to graduate school at Washington U and finished his architecture degree. Other than a picture he sent to Georgios, the photos were stored in a box for the next 35 years while Ian was pursuing his architectural career. Around 2005 he began re-integrating himself with the archeological community, and he was invited to a dinner following a lecture by the Director of the Cyprus Museum. In Ian’s thoughtful style, he prepared some photos to share with the director, who responded with the question, “Do you have any idea what you have here?” Really, no, Ian did not, but he quickly found out as the director offered him space to exhibit in the Cyprus Museum and declared his photos to be a “national ethnographic treasure.” Ian’s book, The Faces of Phlamoudhi, the museum exhibit, and an award-winning documentary film of the same name came out of their meeting. The book has a website: www.FacesofPhlamoudhi.com.
In the preparation of his book, Ian was profoundly influenced by the eminent anthropologist Peter Loizos of the London School of Economics, who had written the book, Iron in the Soul, about the effects of displacement on the inhabitants of his father’s Cypriot village, Argaki. He graciously invited Ian to his home in London and advised him to change his concept of the book. Ian had been planning to select only those photographs he deemed aesthetic, but Loizos was very firm in counseling that the book should include a picture of every person that he had photographed in Phlamoudhi. Thus, a coffee table book evolved into an ethnographic archive.
Gerolemos & Koula Papaphotiou with family.
For many of those in the Cypriot diaspora, Ian’s visual record is the only remaining evidence of their homes, families, and former lives. Several villagers have expressed the feeling that a part of their soul was taken away when they lost their ancestral homes and village, and to some degree Ian’s work has helped to heal their intense grief. Although he stood apart in his bell bottom jeans and his long hair in 1972, ultimately he did blend in with the residents of Phlamoudhi. The former villagers made him an honorary member of the village, and their descendants treat him “like royalty.” Ian became a part of their history, their trauma, and their healing.
I noticed that every event leading to Ian’s ethnographic treasure took place in the context of his saying thank you. As a developing architect, there would have been many tasks that Ian absolutely was required to do. But he did not have to thank the art history department by donating 400 slides to their library, and he did not have to take a picture of Georgios and his family. And it wasn’t essential to his architectural education and career that he wander around the village of Phlamoudhi, thinking he was fitting in, and although he did not know it at the time, documenting the existence of the village and its people. Ian decided, planned, and carried out the steps to become a successful architect, but the publication of The Faces of Phlamoudi arose from a serendipitous series of events based on generosity.
Lysandros Lysandrou, the shepherd
Maria Lysandrou, with her prized ram
Peter Loizos in his afterword to Ian’s book, wrote the following about memory and identity:
But, like Eurydice, we cannot stop ourselves from looking back, from shuffling our packs of memories, for our identities are strongly memory-dependent. Those memories, showing who we once were, tell us who we are now, and are particularly poignant, particularly valuable for the displaced. That is the reason why the appearance of this book is so timely.
I asked Ian if his photographs and his connection with the villagers of Phlamoudhi might constitute his most important life work. He replied that he may be better able to answer that question in the future. Ian is currently working on a second volume of his book about the displaced families and their descendants, and we will be waiting for it. Meanwhile you can go to the book's website, www.FacesofPhlamoudhi.com to see more of Ian's photos and learn more about life in the village in the summer of 1972.