Out: of = AfricaSelf-taught artisan and cigar lover Patrick Mavros has turned his stunning, wildlife-themed silver creations into a top luxury brand BY ANDREW NAGY PORTRAITS BY MATT FURMAN =:=:= eated on the other side of the table, Patrick Mavros exudes an aura of the African savanna, as if he just strode from the golden sands of his native Zimbabwe, straight into the posh dining room of New York City’s Club Macanudo. He wears a chocolate- brown safari jacket over a white linen shirt, slate trousers with reinforced seams and is crowned by a custom, broad-brimmed hat that has a guinea-fowl feather—a Skeepsake from his wife, Catja—protruding from its band. He appears to be more of a seasoned big- game hunter, ripped from the pages of a Hemingway story, than the preeminent master silversmith to the world’s aristocracy. As it turns out, he’s both, as well as many other things, including raconteur, polio survivor, retired baker, conservationist and a former member of the Selous Scouts, an elite special forces unit that fought in the Rhodesian Bush War. He rests his lit Cohiba Comador in a crystal ashtray on the table, sets his hat next to it and runs a hand through his untamed, wispy salt-and-pepper hair, revealing a bearded countenance that is simultaneously stern and friendly, highlighted by piercing brown eyes. “Alright,” he says, a charming lilt in his British accent, “where shall we begin? I know!” He affixes a pair of pince-nez reading glasses to the bridge of his nose and thumbs through his iPhone, which displays a photograph of five men who work for Mavros standing shoulder to shoulder, grinning and holding up a massive python no less than 40 feet long. “The boys caught that this morning.” Just another day of unexpected adventures at Mpata Farm, Mavros’s 1,500-acre compound that overlooks the Umwimsi Valley, located about 20 miles outside of Harare, Zimbabwe’s capital city. Named after the pitter-patter sound of water splashing off the granite rocks at the base of a waterfall on the grounds, Mpata is the center of Mavros’s growing silver empire. It’s the place he calls home, Patrick Mavros, silversmith to and it’s where he and Catja raised their four boys. Also, his state-of-the-art silversmith’s workshop the stars, puffing away happily is located there, as well as a gallery that showcases and sells his newest creations. at Club Macanudo. 146 The Mavros flagship store in London’s Chelsea neighborhood is designed to transport shoppers to his farm in Zimbabwe. Cigars are welcome out back. Most important, the majority of Mpata Farm is a wildlife sanctuary, the silver casting. Pieces are inspected and then hallmarked with the an undisturbed area where hundreds of species of birds, lions, hippopota- company’s registered markings before being polished and shipped. muses, elephants, monkeys, crocodiles, zebras and, yes, snakes, live among Whether it’s a pair of elephant earrings, an ashtray of a lion with two tall baobab trees and various other indigenous flora. It’s precisely these monkeys riding on his back, or an ornate silver sculpture of a baobab tree, images that have inspired and influenced Mavros’s silversmith art. The each of Mavros’s works strives to capture a unique tale in incredibly fine artisan says he often sits on the veranda of his house atop a hill, sketchpad detail. “Each piece is an heirloom for the future. There’s a story behind all in hand, puffing a cigar and drinking English breakfast tea while studying of this,” says Mavros as he takes another draw from his Comador. “Every the animals in the valley below. Ultimately, his clientele is buying into his story is authentic. We don’t make up nursery rhymes and fairy tales. It’s chic-bushman lifestyle, and some even trek to his estate to view it first- very big in my life that you come on the African safari with me.” hand. They come not only to witness how Mavros creates his exquisitely A fourth-generation native of Zimbabwe, Mavros was born in 1954 in lifelike, naturalistic silver wares, but to experience a part of the world Matabeleland, a province in the country’s western region. His grandfather many only read about in books or see in films. Stamati Mavros emigrated from Greece to Durban, South Africa, in 1901, “Our business is not just commercial, but a way of life,” says Mavros. while his mother’s side hails from Scotland. According to Mavros, Stamati “A sort of Swiss Family Africa. To go and see a home with this family and needed the advice of a lawyer, and since “no self-respecting English lawyer the manner in which we live in our community is remarkable. There is would represent a Greek,” his grandfather “sought the council of an Indian great hospitality and a great sense of calm. And excitement, because you gentleman, Mr. Mahatma Gandhi.” In 1902, Stamati settled in what was at never know what you might be summoned to look at. A spitting cobra, or the time Southern Rhodesia, married a lovely lady named Aphrodite, and a baboon on top of an anthill. Nevertheless, it’s 100 percent Zimbabwe.” fathered six children, one of whom was Patrick Mavros’s dad. Mavros’s silver pieces include regular-production items for the home, In his youth, Mavros would tirelessly explore his tough, rural bush ladies jewelry and men’s adornment. Additionally, Mavros offers special- environment by climbing trees, swimming in streams, catching birds and ized pieces such as cigar ashtrays, penholders, candelabra, as well as watching with fascination the many kinds of animals that surrounded the commissioned works that are designed and produced either by Mavros family home. His life took a turn for the worse, however, when at the age himself or one of his sons, who all participate in the family business. of five he began showing signs of polio. Even though his father was a Each item is handmade out of British sterling silver using a technique doctor, the road to recovery was arduous. called lost-wax casting in which silver, a natural byproduct of Zimbabwe’s “There was a massive epidemic, and I just happened to be caught in gold industry, is heated up to 1,000 degrees centigrade (1,832 degrees it,” remembers Mavros, his voice dropping an octave. “It was a good thing, Fahrenheit). While that’s done, an original wax model is coated with in the end, because it kicked me off with a bit of a disadvantage. It made liquid rubber, which sets and is then carefully cut away. Molten wax is me fight harder; made me climb trees higher than anyone else.” then injected into this rubber cavity where it cools and is then removed Mavros credits his bout with polio as the catalyst that led him to discover from the rubber mold as a perfect copy of the original wax model. This his innate artistic talent. Bedridden, Mavros turned to carving animals out of new model is then covered with plaster of paris and the molten silver is ivory, or drawing and painting the flora and fauna that he loved. “I would get poured in. The heat melts the wax (so it’s only used once), which is carried outside by our cook or mother so I could sketch,” he says. “And for a replaced by the silver. After the silver cools, the plaster is broken to reveal year of my life it was like that.” By the time he was about seven years old, his PHOTO CREDIT TK 148 =:=:= The works of Patrick Mavros hark to his roots in Africa, and the beasts of the continent take center stage in many of his designs, including cigar ashtrays. symptoms had subsided. But, he says, “I was still a bit shaky on my legs were constructed, how they looked, how they smelt. Always distinctive.” until the age of 10. Really it was by 15 that I learned how to run.” As Mavros continues his mouth moves, but his eyes remain locked on Mavros went to a school of about 350 kids divided into about five the cherry of his cigar, as if he’s staring deep into the past. houses, modeled after the classic British boarding school system. “I didn’t “Yeah, it was scary. But you’re young!” His voice oscillates. “You’d hunt do well in school at all,” he admits, ordering himself a double of Johnnie with adrenaline, and because you’re in the special-forces unit, you feel very Walker Black, his preferred spirit, to wash down the hamburger (cooked confident. Very professional. There was a lot of glory in it for a young guy.” rare) that he just ate. “I failed a number of my exams and was a bit lazy. If War, though, was not all glory, and it instilled in him a few valuable life it had anything to do with birds, nature or art, I was the top of my class. lessons, least of all was discipline. “[War] taught me a little about leadership, But that didn’t get me through school properly.” and taught me a little bit about knowing who you were in life,” he continues. While academics might not have been Mavros’s strength, his boarding “[I learned] the value of life and the stupidity of human beings. Especially the school in the wilderness did act as a springboard for one of his favorite stupidity of human beings who are supposed to be responsible leaders.