‘Greek Miracle’: Small Show, Big Meaning : Art: Its 34 sculptures constitute the first exhibit of classical Greek sculpture from the fifth century BC ever to be shown in the U.S.

As 2,500 years of art history wait in the wings, “The Kritios Boy” makes his move. Resting his weight on his left leg, he takes a small step forward, at the same time turning his thoughtful face ever so slightly to the right.

That is all, and in a physical sense it’s not much. But with that slight movement and that thoughtful look, sculpture steps out of the realm of the symbol and into that of the thinking human being, and art changes forever. If ever a gesture had far-reaching implications, this is it.

One of the things it symbolizes right now is the show it is in. For like this sculpture, “The Greek Miracle” at the National Gallery of Art is a small show with a big meaning.

Its 34 sculptures, quietly occupying a half-dozen spaces, constitute the first exhibit of classical Greek sculpture from the fifth century BC ever to be shown in the United States. They represent a seminal moment in the history of Western art. And they arrive on the 2,500th anniversary of the birth of democracy.

It is a major point of this show--perhaps the major point--that the sculpture that comes here to celebrate the birth of democracy is more than merely a discrete manifestation of that flowering. It was precisely the Greek idea of the individual’s importance and responsibility that brought about the developments in art that we see in “The Greek Miracle.”

Appropriately, the exhibit begins with a point of departure, a late sixth-century statue of a youth, or kouros, that shows a considerable mastery of the representation of the body, but in a static pose and with the standard, slightly smiling expression characteristic of archaic sculpture. This is a man, but not an individual.

If one compares this statue with that of “The Kritios Boy” half a century later (480-470 BC), the change in the pose is not great. The weight is on one leg rather than both, the head is ever so slightly turned rather than staring forward. But the implications are enormous, for this figure has decided to move, and its expression is not blank but conscious and serious, as of one capable of making such a decision. “Critics have seen this figure,” writes J.J. Pollitt in another essay, “as perhaps the first sculptural image designed to express the new sense of individual responsibility (in democratic Athens).”

One of the most indelible impressions the exhibit leaves is the fact that art does not live in a vacuum--it reflects the society in which it is created. If there are aspects of our own art that we find less than ideal, the fault may lie not so much in our artists as in ourselves.