The Bronze Olive Tree
“Behold, I have called Bezalel by name, and I have filled him with the spirit of divine wisdom, to work in bronze, to craft all kinds of works” (Exodus 21:2-6).
Perhaps something similar happened with Angelos Panagiotidis, who is self-taught…
In Greek Religion, the matter would be even more fascinating: There (Plato, Protagoras, 321c), besides the “artistic wisdom”, man would also receive Fire from the gods. And you can understand what happens when bronze (and other metals) meet fire (or oxygen) in Panagiotidis’ hands: undulating forms, subtle chromatic enchantments, patinas—if only you have eyes to see and an open heart to rejoice in these “trees” (as the people of Megara call olive trees).
So, you wander through the branches (but do not rush!), sink your gaze into the forest of stems, search the veins of the leaves (and perhaps, somewhere on the trunk, a drop of olive-tear might emerge), yet still, something remains unseen. Suddenly, behold—the ecstasy of the fruit, the olive itself!
Here, puritanical art critics will forbid you from salivating if your mind drifts to thrumbes, colymbistes, tsakistes (different types of olives), and they may be right, for you might lose sight of aesthetic abstraction.
Still, if you find yourself tempted, ward it off with the ancient names: ischades, niktirides, and thlastai—the entire lexicon of a humanity that has remained unchanged for three thousand years. This is the enduring symbol that Panagiotidis has chosen and continues to work on tirelessly…
And he works with evident mastery. He is a formidable craftsman (may Hephaestus protect him from his own gifts).
But why, then, does he insist on such austerity? Why the olive tree again and again?
Ask the same of Philip Glass—“Why minimalism in his music?”—or perhaps the Byzantine icon painters. They say that this rhythmic “repetition”, this reworking of the same form (which, ceasing to be the same, is freed from itself), elevates the aesthetic language. And so, through the grid of external uniformity, subtler expressive achievements filter outward: the reassuring Order on a grand scale and the Pulse of freedom on a micro-scale—both welcome in the form-seeking consciousness of the viewer.
Our sculptor here works instinctively, as in those times before the distinction between utilitarian crafts and artistic creations had even been made…
Now, those governed by reason may ask: “Does the wind blow through these branches?” “Are these leaves fresh or withered?” “Under what angle of sunlight do these olives take on such colors?”
And the others—the wiser ones, already answered—step barefoot into the Forest and surrender to the childlike wonder you were once deprived of. Listen to the metallic rustling of the leaves and claim your “Fourth Wreath.”
Theodosis Tassios
Professor, National Technical University of Athens