Paris 1969. I am at the bottom of a long marble staircase in the Louvre. At the top is the Nike of Samothrace. I was spellbound. Totally entranced by the beauty, the history, the powerful aura of this marble statue. I was lost in the moment. The moment was mine. If anyone was around, I don’t remember. I don’t know that I had ever seen art so beautiful before.
Thinking of that experience, I guess it’s not totally capricious for me to decide one day to get some books out of the library on ancient Greek sculpture, trace the outline of the Nike of Samothrace and the Venus de Milo, and cut them out. Do I put them on a pedestal? no. In a niche? grid?
Aren’t they lovely shapes?
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