“Suddenly, the vortex of an anomalous wave rises, a real Tsunami of blistering whiteness, hurling high in the air the body of a young woman”. This is the image the marble of Carrara offers to Zeus in my “Rape of Europe”. The king of the gods no longer assumes the seductive semblance of a meek young bull, but becomes a huge bursting tide. Instead of the small hand-carved horns of Ovid’s tale, “more transparent than a pure gem”, there is a crystal globe: an immense eye, the eye of conscience.
Europe is painfully braving the surging waves. The bronze, youthful surfer-like figure, skilfully bends sideways in her bid to reach the shore, almost dancing on the crest of the wave. The first impact suggests courage. Its sweetness reveals the enigma that has tormented the conscience of man for thousands of years, – can the energy of a smile balance blind strength? Can beauty and a peaceful protest contrast the delirium of power?