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Κυριακή, 6 Νοεμβρίου 2016

(?) Barbarism at the Louvre... καθάρισαν την Νίκη της Σαμοθράκης έγινε "αγνώριστη" ...

πλύσιμο χτένισμα , και μια άσπρη λαδομπογιά...
Barbarism at the Louvre

“A few days ago I was in Paris again after a few years’ absence and 
visited the Louvre, excited to see my beloved Nike of Samothrace

the masterpiece from Antiquity which I always considered to be the 
pinnacle of achievement of Greek sculpture. 
It is on exhibition again after its recent restoration which had kept 
it from public view for several years.”
Euphrosyne Doxiadis continues:
The Louvre without its greatest treasure, the Nike, 
was to me inconceivable; 
so I waited impatiently for the restoration to be completed and 
for her to be returned to the place where she belonged. 
The placing of the winged Victory on the prow of her ancient ship 
at the top of the staircase in the Denon section of the museum was 
an inspired placement in museum strategy.
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She was the rewarding apparition in store for visitors and the 
experience was no less than magical. The statue took your breath 
away as it progressively came into full view as you approached the 
monumental staircase from the large sculpture hall. 
Every time I would visit the museum I would ritually walk through 
this hall slowly in order to savour the upward unfolding of the miracle 
placed at the top, the winged Victory coming into full view. 
A woman with spread wings fixed in time; giving the viewer the 
impression that she had only just landed on her blue-grey 
marine pedestal. Like no other work I know, looking at her gave one 
a feeling of elation and liberation from gravity which its ancient sculptor 
had intended. He captured the fleeting moment when she had just 
landed from her flight, the moment of balance between weight and 
weightlessness, between stillness and movement, silence and the 
sound of wings fluttering in the wind. A total wonder. 
She was a powerful emblematic figure.
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No longer. 
The recent restoration of the sculpture has reduced the Nike of 
Samothrace to a white ghost of her former self. 
Looking at her now is like looking at a modern copy of the great 
masterpiece we so adored. What has happened is a tragedy. 
Lost forever is the wonderful statue that we knew. 
Gone irrevocably is the fleeting moment of its greatness. 
What we now have, after the cleaning, is what looks like a plaster of 
paris replica of what we had before. Devastating and unbelievable. 
Who would have thought that this could ever happen?
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A foretaste of this permanent disaster was seeing a poster a few 
years ago pasted around Paris of the Nike painted an ultramarine 
blue by the modern artist Yves Klein. 
Although shocked by the insensitivity towards its great prototype, 
I was comforted by the fact that these were only copies of the 
original that Yves Klein was playing around with. 
He had hoped perhaps that the wings of the Victory would carry him 
to higher fame and fortune. Now this “game” is no longer harmless; 
toying with fame and infamy; it is for real. The restorers of the Nike 
have robbed it of its top layer, its patina which gave it much more 
than the sum of its parts of bruises and stains; 
it gave it its magical quality. The Victory we knew is alas, no longer here. 
What is left now is a white sculpted stone resting vicariously on its 
spanking clean pedestal. The Victory has flown away. Forever.

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