Sculpture: Figures in the Sun

Athens prides itself on being the birthplace of classical Western sculpture. What would be more natural thought Tony Spiteris, 55, Greek president of the International Association of Art Critics, than for Athens to have an international sculpture show? The pine-studded Hill of Muses provided a magnificent outdoor setting and the Acropolis a challenging background. With the backing of the National Tourist Organization of Greece, Critic Spiteris rounded up works by 66 of the world’s leading sculptors.

The result has proved a tremendous success. The brilliant sunlight of Attica and classical background give such modern works as Matisse’s Head of Jeannette an air of repose and permanence. Andre Derain’s Girl with Long Hair has gained a depth of dimension it never had in France’s Chardin Gallery, and the razor-sharp shadows endow Henry Moore’s prowlike Standing Figure with a new monumentality. As for Renoir’s Venus Triumphant, with her well-rounded grace she looked ready for installation above it all in the Parthenon itself.

The sculpture that caused the most goggling was a copy of the one that most Greeks thought they knew best the Louvre’s Venus de Milo. This ver sion, however, was by Spain’s Salvador Dali, so of course there was a difference. Dali had put drawers on her. Here and there he had cut out sections and turned them into sliding compartments. One visitor, proceeding on the premise that drawers are for opening, pulled out Venus’ forehead, breasts and stomach before a horrified guard could stop him.

In the end, the Greeks even decided that Dali’s Venus was fun, and with 60,000 visitors in three weeks, the exhibition has proved an immense success —with everyone, that is, except young Greek lovers. The Hill of Muses has long been their favorite nocturnal rendezvous. There has been much grumbling from those who have found themselves confronted in the dark of night with the likes of Barbara Hepworth’s looming Sea Form, which looks like a shield with holes in it, or Pablo Gargallo’s St. John the Baptist, a strident bronze whose every jutting piece stands ready to gore the unwary lover.