A History of Greek Art With an Introductory Chapter on Art in Egypt and Mesopotamia — Key Ideas to Explore

The Archaic Smile and Its Disappearance

Tarbell's treatment of late archaic sculpture is remarkably attentive to facial expression. He notes the conventional smile that gives way to greater naturalism, and in one head observes that the mouth actually droops at the corners, giving a perhaps unintended look of seriousness. This attention to subtle shifts in expression—from the conventional to the individual—reveals his method of tracing artistic development through minute details. The eyeballs that protrude unpleasantly in earlier works lie at their proper depth in later ones; the hair changes from impossibly arranged to fairly natural. These are not vague observations but precise markers of stylistic evolution.

Drapery as a Clue to Chronology

In describing the maidens of the Acropolis, Tarbell carefully distinguishes garments: the Ionic chiton, a long linen shift girded at the waist, and an over-garment that goes over the right shoulder and under the left. He notes how the cloth clings behind and falls in formal folds in front, and points to an over-fold that appears as if cut with two or more long points below. Such technical descriptions of drapery—its weight, folds, and arrangement—serve not merely as costume notes but as chronological indicators. The way cloth behaves on a figure, Tarbell implies, is as telling as the treatment of anatomy.

The Unsolved Riddle of the Acropolis Maidens

Tarbell confronts a central mystery: who are the female figures that once stood on the Acropolis? He reports that some scholars see Athena, patroness of weaving, while others—including himself—take them for daughters of Athens. But what especial claim these women had to be set up in effigy upon Athena's holy hill is an unsolved riddle. This honest admission of uncertainty is characteristic of Tarbell's approach. He does not pretend to have all answers, but instead invites readers to share in the fascination of these mysterious beings with their gracious countenances and unconsciousness of self.

Tarbell's history is best read with reproductions of the works he describes at hand, for his observations are tightly tied to visual evidence. His focus on the transition from archaic stiffness to classical naturalism—visible in smiles, drapery, and hair—provides a concrete framework for understanding Greek sculpture. The introductory chapter on Egypt and Mesopotamia sets the stage, but the heart of the book lies in its patient, loving examination of individual pieces.

Sitting with Tarbell’s careful words on Greek drapery, I found myself thinking of the patient way a painter learns to see oil’s weight and light. Both ask for a quiet, unhurried eye—one that notices how a fold falls, how a brushstroke settles. It felt like meeting an old friend in a different room, the same gentle attention in The Painter in Oil A complete treatise on the principles and technique necessary to the painting of pictures in oil colors — A Closer Reading, waiting patiently on a shelf.