Winged Victory of Samothrace, 220 - 190 B.C.

What better way to segue out of a tragedy at sea, than with a statue commemorating a victory of the very same sort. But first, let's talk about intentions. Stay with me here: Let's say that Giacometti and Monet are each asked to paint the same woman. Both of these fine men have a penchant for creating motion in even the most stationary subjects, but the resulting images would likely have two entirely different  emotions behind them.

Monet's piece would likely inspire thoughts of summer afternoons and wind winding through the trees, while Giacometti's painting would leave viewers unsettled. It is not Giacometti's subject matter, but his violent and obsessive technique, that gives his sculptures and paintings such a haunting mystique. In the same way that a dog does not act as a static symbol for fidelity, motion  exists as an evolving motif of art, able to be explored through countless mediums and subjects and limited only by those who wield its awesome power.

Speaking of awesome power, I suppose you want to hear a bit about this statue commemorating that ancient Naval battle that I mentioned. As you may have noticed, this puppy dates way back to the GrecoRoman times, when the arts first began to blossom and togas weren't just for parties. Winged Victory of Samothrace stands proudly at the Louvre to this day, where art fans world wide can come and admire the beautiful handiwork of the ancient sculptors who will, sadly, never get the praise they deserve.

Every inch of the regal statue buzzes with energy, from the fabric that flows wispily in the salty breeze of the ancient Cretan Sea to the stock still legs and wings, poised and ready to launch the statue triumphantly into the air. The attention to detail in the piece remains absolutely astonishing, even by today's standards. Even in the clinging of the cloth to the figures stomach there is a clear movement, namely the stretching of the fabric as the victorious Nike twists and turns in a motion of pure ecstasy.  Not until Bernini would a sculptor again summon such a light and airy effect from the cold clutches of stone.