Olive Grove of Bronze
(burning yet not consumed)
We prosecute the arsonists of forests, yet we admire the destroyers of the olive grove.
— L. Kambouroglou, 1920
Seeing again the sculptures of Angelos Panagiotidis after the terrifying experience of the recent wildfires, I thought once more about how decisively art can distill human experience into its works—offering comfort, issuing warnings, provoking thought, and even foreseeing the future. Like the prophetic laurel of the Pythia, art possesses the power to magically resurrect the past and astonishingly envision the future. Sometimes it is Ophelia; other times, Cassandra. Sometimes the luminous Archangel Gabriel; at other times, the dark Archangel Michael.
Whether the oracle of art is joyous or ominous depends on the sensitivity of the human recipient. Ultimately, the future is in our hands—just as the present is, just as the past has been. Of all human endeavors, only works of art truly dignify our passage through this world. Most of the rest make humanity either ashamed or grief-stricken. Which of the two is worse? You may judge for yourself.
The works of Angelos Panagiotidis, timeless yet contemporary, immerse their viewer in a contemplative experience—almost a mystical one. Slowly, you are drawn in by the impressive craftsmanship, the strikingly realistic illusion, the branches seemingly swayed by a wind that does not exist. You sink into a forest of forms, ablaze yet unconsumed. The brass, the patina, the sculpting of the metal, the hues created by fire and hammer, the final treatment of a stubborn material that nonetheless yields to the hands of a determined and patient modern Hephaestus—all contribute to a unique whole.
This is an aesthetic “Olive Grove” created today to symbolize both yesterday—a blessed era that we squandered—and tomorrow. A tomorrow that must take the environment and its needs into account if humanity hopes to continue its adventure on this planet.
Angelos Panagiotidis, wondrously self-taught yet skillfully wise, chooses the olive tree—a timeless symbol of an ideal society, a society of peace that harmoniously balances joyful labor and the radiant achievements of civilization—to address matters of urgent priority and tragic consequences.
I wonder—who cannot perceive the deep sorrow embedded in this silent and tender art? In an era where sculpture is in crisis and public monuments seem lost, the artist returns to an unpretentious theme—a tree, a branch, the fruit of the olive—to speak loudly without using words. Who does not hear him? The time has passed when we could call innocent those who claim they do not understand. There are no more “sinless” bystanders.
Looking more closely at Angelos Panagiotidis’ work, one can see that, as a master of his craft, he seamlessly blends sculptural form, executed to perfection, with a painterly effect that plays with color and a theatrical, illusionistic recreation of space. His trees, trunks, leaves, olives, and fruits form an aesthetic whole of unique vividness. It is a silver-and-gold forest, adrift in an imaginary, dreamlike sea, pulsing with the tension of all those vital juices struggling within the veins of its trunks. Symbolically, it represents a burning construction of civilization in a world set ablaze by madness.
The approximately 35 olive trees that breathe, that sway gently like rhythmic music in the central hall of the Ikastikos Kyklos gallery, create a sculptural environment so striking, so soothingly comforting, that it captivates the viewer. These artistic forms grow from the inside out, just as in nature, and they burn yet are not consumed—because they are mediated by the miracle of art. That is why I spoke earlier of relief and consolation. These trees—the trees of art—will survive.
Their purpose is to inspire the creation of a different kind of humanity, a new set of ideologies—ones that will cherish and regenerate the other trees, the trees of nature, which suffer so greatly from human aggression. And that is of immense importance.
P.S.
The first olive tree in the world grew on the Acropolis. What an enormous responsibility for us!
— Manos Stefanidis
January 26, 2008