THEODOROS GENNITSAKIS
He speaks with Tessa Andriopoulos about the creative refuge offered by Athens’ contemporary scene, the responsibility of creatives to protect culture in our hype-driven era, and the central preoccupation of PRESSURE: preserving authentic connection.
february 2025, paris
interview — TESSA ANDRIOPOULOS
portraits — WILHELMINA MER
THEODOROS GENNITSAKIS — My parents came to Paris from Greece in '81 for my dad to study. I was born there in '82, but we were poor, so my parents needed to work instead. They would send me to my grandparents' village in Greece, Maverza, which means "black sea." So I grew up between central Paris and this small village built by Greek immigrants from the Black Sea of Turkey. That's why you see Maverza everywhere in my work. I learned the codes of both worlds.
TA — Another thing we see a lot in your work are Arabic words and phrases.
TG — This came very naturally. I grew up between two immigrant stories - my village in Greece was built by Greeks from Turkey, and in Paris I grew up with other Mediterranean immigrants - mostly Arabs. Even in my Greek village, we had this mix of Greek Gypsies, Bulgarians, Albanians, many Muslims. In Paris, being white, I could connect with everyone, but at the same time, I always had something inside me that felt uncomfortable, but this it was more in terms of culture. I felt Parisians were cold, and I was much more comfortable with the people from the Mediterranean countries living there. This is what you see referenced in my projects - I wanted to express my lifestyle and identity visually. The Greek, the Arabic, and Balkanic vibe all came very naturally.
TG — The restaurant came naturally because for years I was doing just clothing and the magazine about Mediterranean culture. These projects were more about fashion. The clothes were about cultural traditions meeting with street culture. Clothes are nice, images for the magazine are nice too. And doing projects for other brands, it's cool, but how can I make these people experience the culture?
My mom is a chef. She specialized in Greek traditional food for 25 years. She always had her dream, which was to have her own restaurant. So, my brother and I decided to try to open a restaurant for our mom, and also bring all these people and fans of the brand into our family. But it's not just Greek. If you come to the restaurant or if you see the people who are buying the clothes or the people who are reading the magazine, most of them are from different Mediterranean countries. People even like you who have a part of the Mediterranean in themselves but they are in Canada. This is what I seek in all my projects: finding the cultural connections between us.
TA — Whenever I wear my Pressure tees, people always stop me and ask about it, especially Greeks [laughs]. You’re a pioneer in the Greek streetwear space, so your clothes feel so new to people and they just want to know more and more about it.
TG — It started naturally from growing up immersed in Paris street culture. My friends would ask if Greece had a street brand, and when I said no, I just made a t-shirt. I never planned for it to become this - even now I see Pressure not as a brand but as a cultural project. The clothes and magazine represent it, and then you can come to our restaurant in Paris and have family time. When students from Italy, Morocco, Algeria, Turkey, Spain come to Maria's and tell me they feel at home - that's my real win. It's not about business, it's about sharing the culture and human connection.
TG — I was working in the fashion industry for luxury brands, also doing art direction, graphic design and photography and for street magazines. I had been working in fashion for 20 years, so I understood the industry and I was ready to build the Pressure project. I knew the market, and I said okay, let's try it. And, today, I'm not seeing it as a job. It's like playing a sport or traveling.
TA — I see such an authentic love for the work that you're doing, the art that you're sharing, the people that you're with, the places that you're seeing. I've of course seen it in conversation as your friend, but also through your photography.
TG — I’ve always been doing projects between Paris and Greece, video shoots and events and so on. When COVID came in 2021, I got stuck in Greece. I started doing productions there. I was bringing people from New York, London, Paris - I was paying for their tickets and letting them stay at my place for free. The food is free, the ticket is free, the only thing I'm asking is that you come and work with me. So I had people coming with cameras and we started doing movies. Two years ago, I opened a production company in Athens with a good friend from Cyprus. We're doing big productions for brands in Greece - we did eight projects this summer already. My goal is not just to make money, but to develop there. The concept of Pressure Production in Greece is that when you work with us you need to be local.
TA — Outside of the economy-building aspect of the project, is there something you want people to see about Greece you feel is overlooked?
TG — This is one of my biggest fights. I can't fight gentrification or capitalism. What I can do is try to make sure everyone participating in what I do is taken care of and feels good about it. Of course, as a Greek, it hurts to see Athens changing so fast. But as a Greek in Paris, I was also once part of a similar change.
TA — I share your sentiments about the speed at which it's growing. We all have to be mindful and educated about gentrification and what the speed at which it happens can do to a city. I saw you posted on instagram recently about your upcoming photography book.
TG — This is my most personal project to date. I started photography 20 years ago, by mistake, when I was messing around with disposable cameras because we didn’t have digital back then. There was a Grandpa in Maverza who saw me coming back every summer, using my disposable. He told me one day, 'Hey, I see you taking pictures all the time, you don’t need to trash the camera every time. Just buy a camera and reuse it.” But I didn't have money, so he gave me his.
I'm still shooting with this same camera. It’s a Mamiya RB67 medium format. For 20 years I’ve been shooting my region in Greece. I’m going to publish all the images in a book. The project is already complete because it shows the locals being shot by a kid from the region. You cannot do anything more authentic than that.
TG — I started photographing because my childhood in Paris was very challenging emotionally. I don't have good memories from this time because as I told you, I was from not a poor family, but a very poor family. I wasn't feeling secure or having very good times in Paris because I was always feeling the pressure and the stress of my family at home.
My only good moments were when I was going to my village. In Greece, I felt freedom, security, and happiness. That's why I was taking pictures: because I knew I would have to leave these moments to go back to the stress and pressure of Paris. I just wanted to have these moments, stealing them with my camera to keep them with me. It was my way of dealing with this melancholia of being this Greek guy but not living in my country or with my culture. Back in Paris, I would look at the pictures all winter, looking and looking. It’s similar to what I do now with Pressure. Looking at these images has always been part of my everyday life, the difference is that back then I didn’t have social media so I couldn't share it the way I do now.
TA — You cite growing up in Paris as what gave you the confidence to explore fashion from a young age. A common experience for children of immigrant parents is to prove to them that a career in the creative industries is viable. How did you break through this - did Paris’ creative community have an influence?
TG — In Paris, I lived between two worlds - the Parisian life outside and the Greek life at home. Whatever I brought in from the streets would be questioned at home, like, "what the fuck is this?" It's a common experience for immigrant children. I tried to find ways to make my parents understand, to make them proud. But eventually I realized I was swimming in an empty sea - it wasn't that they didn't understand, it was their fear of losing their culture. When people immigrate, they don't plan for it to be permanent. They seek a better life but then they want to return.
They have clear markers of success: becoming a doctor, marrying between 20-25, maintaining traditional family structures. Meanwhile, at school, I was seeing gays, lesbians, white, black, punk, hip hop, everything. I was experimenting with my identity too, and so, I was between two worlds: feeling misunderstood at home, and then being part of Parisian city life where I could try anything without judgment.
TA — Can you share an anecdote from that time?
TG — In Paris, I dressed like the street kids, all Nike and Lacoste. But being proud to be Greek, I would wear, for example, an Adidas tracksuit with leather shoes because my dad dressed like that. The village kids in Greece would laugh, "Hey, you dress like an old grandpa!"
But in Paris, because it's a fashion city, the kids were like "Oh, he's trying something, he's creative." In my village it was very raw, straight to hurt - no fashion, nothing. In Paris, you need to be good to be loved. In my village, you need to be you to be loved. If you try too hard, you're superficial, and they take distance. So I put this in my work. I wanted to provoke reactions - like t-shirts with Greek popes but "Pressure" written in Arabic. Everyone was lost, saying "It means nothing." But no, it means a Greek guy growing up in Paris with Arabs, respecting his grandma's religion, you know? This is how I connect - I see something I want to share. But my only way is through clothes, editorial, photography.
TG — Now, through my work with Greek culture, my parents are, let's say, more relaxed because they see their son is so in love with Greece. Even more than that - that I know more than them about Greece. I have a strong material connection with the old world.
My dad still finishes all my garments, adding the branding, while my mom prepares them for shipping. Everything bears Greek text - they can read my story without us having to speak. They can tell when I'm in love because I'm putting girls on a shirt. They can tell when things are good or bad in my life depending on what I write on the clothes. So I communicate with them this way. They feel that I've found a way to bridge both worlds. And with the restaurant, we've come full circle. During Paris Fashion Week, I have friends coming from all over the world, and we go to Maria’s. So my mom also sees Greek-Japanese, Greek from Australia, Algerians from New York. And she's like, 'wow', you see, they are immigrants, but they made it.
TA — So you’ve shown them there's nothing to be afraid of in the end. This leads to my next question, which is, where does this idea of Pressure come from? Pressure to prove something?
TG — Totally, yes. In many ways, you do things without knowing why, and understanding comes later. Then a moment passes and you realize, oh, I've been doing this for the last 20 years for this reason. That's why I named everything Pressure - because I grew up under pressure. That's why my work revolves around Greece - everything is connected. But it's beautiful. I'm not suffering from this life. I can travel when I want, wake up when I want. I'm very lucky because what started as pressure became my passion.
TA — And how does that pressure maybe to perform or show up or outdo yourself play into where you are now, twenty years later?
TG — I will always have pressure. The way you grow up stays inside you forever, even if there isn't external pressure anymore. Even if I make billions. We have these patterns that are too deep in us. But we learn how to manage them. I think everyone should see a psychologist, talk about their trauma, their stress, all of this - learn how to control it. Because it's not just about your own suffering, it affects your whole social life. Sometimes you act weird with people because you have some traumas, and it doesn't help you connect. I know this because I lived it. Ten years ago, I had a different reputation than I have now. Today, I've worked so much on myself that people say I manage my pressure very well, that I'm authentic, honest, transparent.
TA — Aside from therapy, are there other ways, maybe spiritual or religious, that you find help you to stay connected?
TG — I move between different intensities. In Greece, I'm much more, let's say, spiritual, because the location gives me that energy. In my village, I'm much more religious because the space carries that history. My grandparents were very religious - even all the grandmas from the region would tell me, "Your grandma was a saint."
In Paris, I'm focused on different things, more psychological - you know, Paris is a fight. Lately, I've been sacrificing relationships that felt toxic. I had many people around me that I wanted to keep close without knowing why. I think they were opportunists, but I was like this too. I kept seeing them because maybe I was an opportunist too, thinking "OK, these people can bring me something." It's always hard to sacrifice connections, but mentally I'm healthier, and it gives me more creativity. I think you just need to grow every day. We learn. But I know that the more I grow up, the less superficial things I need. It makes my work more artistic than capitalistic.
TG — Exactly. I don't want to be in survival mode anymore, you know? Because that's what it is - survival. You're afraid, you want to be safe, you think you need people around you just to exist. Now I feel confident with myself. I'm strong - even if I'm alone on an island, I know I will manage. And if I don't manage, it's okay. I say the same thing to all my friends now, because in Paris there is so much competition. I tell them, "Don't try to work with the best ones, work with the good ones." Meaning work with the people who make you happy, even if they're not the best in the market. This is my philosophy now.
TA — How would you compare the creative environment of Paris to that of Athens, and what unique opportunities and challenges do each city present for creative professionals?
TG — Let me compare 2014 and 2024. In 2014, Paris was the shit - everyone was experimenting, you had all these underground scenes, different people from different countries. It was crazy in terms of creative energy. Meanwhile, Athens was like zero - not because of the people, but because the opportunities didn't exist.
Today, Paris has become empty in terms of creative feeling. The quality of life is so expensive, and everything is so controlled that you don't have freedom or space anymore. People are under so much stress that they won't collaborate or try anything unless they're 100% sure they'll get something from it. Paris for me now is just what I call an agora - a market where four times a year, people come from different countries to sell their shit, but they just want to leave.
Athens has become the opposite. Finally, after the crisis, they're rebuilding. They offer you so much space, and people coming from different countries are eager to create because they have that space. They want to collaborate, they want to show you things, you want to discover. There are so many opportunities.
So today, I would say the most creative people are stuck in Paris. But, in Paris, we grew up being creative - so we are still more creative than many cities because it's in our DNA. But we can't do anything here anymore. The only way is to go to Athens to express ourselves, to make things happen.
TA —Right, you bring your experiences and what you've created back to Paris.
TG — These last two years, I've been really surprised by the quality of Athens' contemporary scene. I'm seeing more and more incredible work - artists doing things I don't even see in Paris anymore. The gap is closing. The quality is there, and things are really happening.
TG — Now that Greece is hyped and everyone wants a piece of it, I'm trying to find ways to stay authentic without getting lost in the mass. It's not that I have a problem with it, but I think it's important to understand who is who - who was there before, who will be there after. It matters for the culture. I'm lucky because I come from a village that's so deep in tradition that it's easy for me to stay grounded. And I want to collaborate with people who are interested in Greece, I'm open to that. But we need to keep the culture true while still letting it evolve. So my mission now is to be part of this bridge. Like, okay, you want to do something in Greece? No problem, but we have to do it in a certain way. We're not talking about fabrics or mechanics here - we're talking about culture, and behind that culture are years of history and millions of people.
TA — I can’t think of someone better to tell that story. You're not projecting conventional, commericalized narratives of Greece - for example Santorini with the white houses and blue roofs.
TG — You know, if you go to Santorini in winter, you'd be surprised. What people don't know is that in Santorini, Mykonos, all these islands - during summer, the authentic people escape. But with Pressure, when I collaborate with brands, my goal is to show them something more real than this white and blue fantasy. There is so much more, and that's why we're lucky in Greece - there are so many things people still don't know. But we need to keep them safe, sometimes secret, to keep some control, you know? Because you know how it is - some people just follow trends. They don't care if it's authentic or not. So it's the responsibility of all creatives to take care of what they're sharing.
TA — How do you discern between what is sacred and what needs to be rediscovered?
TG — It's a very good question. For me, what's sacred is everything related to religion and people's personal stories. Easter, for example, is very different from when we're talking about a specific village tradition. We're talking about people who have lived this tradition, their parents had this tradition, their grandparents had this tradition. You have to ask them first if they want to share it with others.
There are many things I know in Greece that I keep secret, even from my Greek friends. I've traveled Greece seven times by car, north to south, and discovered many surprising things. Whenever I had an idea to connect with something, I would always ask the people first. Sometimes they'd say yes, sometimes they'd say no, we don't want that. But they'd tell me, "If you want, you can come see."
And because I respect this, they feel I'm not there for profit. So they bring me more and more into their traditions, their personal lives. Some of the best moments of my life were in Greece, in places where people trusted me because of my authenticity. For me, this is my biggest win. I didn't film, I didn't share, I didn't talk about it. I was just there, being thankful for what they shared with me. This is how life is.