three galleries are the Hall of Aphrodite,nGreek masterpieces, and mummynportraits. Attic Memorial Sculpturenand Late Classical and HellenisticnSculpture galleries are to the north.nJust as it is possible to feel inspirednby the ancient Grecian and Romanngrandeur still manifest in remote ruinsn—say, the Temple of Goncordia innAgrigento, Sicily—so too, the visitornis stirred by the Getty. Walkingnthrough the Getty Museum, I keptnthinking about Croesus, Winckelmann,nGisella Richter, Sir JohnnDavidson Beazeley, and Mary Renaultn— in just that order. Getty’s fortune,nderived from oil, rivaled the fablednwealth of Croesus. The revival of classicalnstudies, spurred by excavationsndone around Naples, is indeliblynlinked to the work of Winckelmann,nthe eminent 18th-century Germannscholar of Greek painting and sculpture.nAmong scholars of Greek art,nGisella Richter ranks among the greatestnAmerican authorities. No one cannseriously discuss Greek pottery withoutnreference to the work of Beazeley. Andnto find the life of Greek civilizationnrecreated in fiction, 20th-centurynreaders need only pick up any of thenlast four books of Mary Renault.nThe galleries in the north part of thenGetty include the Room of ColorednMarble, the Etruscan Vestibule, a Basilica,nthe Temple of Herakles, andnfinally, the Mosaics. Galleries on thenupper level are devoted to Italian Renaissancenand Baroque paintings,nFrench 18th-century decorative arts,nas well as Flemish and Dutch paintings,nmanuscripts, period rooms, andnone gallery for changing exhibitions.nThe museum is flanked on east andnwest by gardens, visible to the visitornthrough the numerous windows andnthe atrium. In pursuit of authenticity,nthe Getty has gone so far as to procurenthe type of trees, flowers, shrubs, andnherbs that might have been growingn2,000 years ago in the Villa dei Papirinat Herculaneum. I have visited Herculaneumnmany times: despite the thrillnof breathing the very dust of antiquity,nthis site is today not the most congenialnfor an average tourist. But thenrecreation of the site of the GettynMuseum affords intense pleasure fornthose who pause to enjoy the fragrancesnfrom the gardens, to listen to thenhumming bees, and watch the plain-nclothed gardeners.nCalled “the most challenging architecturalnproject of our time” the J. PaulnGetty Fine Arts Center in West LosnAngeles is now being designed by thenPritzker Prize winning architect RichardnMeier, based in New York City.nOnce completed, the new center willnhouse the Renaissance paintings andnall European works of art now foundnon the upper level of the Malibunmuseum. This transfer will leave onlynthe antiquities in the recreated Romannvilla in Malibu. Obviously, the reservencollection and much else associatednwith antiquities, including morenGreco-Roman art and new acquisitions,nwill have a place all their own.nThe antiquities at the Getty, especiallynGreek art, reminded me ofnWinckelmann’s famous description ofnclassical art: “edle Einfalt und stillenGrosse.” Antiquities can instill a feelingnof awe within us. No matter wherenthey are located, antiquities—some ofnthe finest of which are now found atnthe Getty—provide us with a profoundnsense of continuity with the bestnof Western civilization. Such treasuresnrestore some of the original significancento Cicero’s declaration: “Therenis no place more delightful thannhome.” ccnShehbaz H. Safrani is a writer andnpainter based in New York City.nSTAGEnOut of Balancenby Gary S. VasilashnRay Pentzell, head of the HillsdalenCollege theater department, attendednuniversity during the heyday of improvisationalntheater off-Broadway.nWhen he could, Pentzell traveledndown from Yale to New York dressednin the “straightest” outfit he could putntogether. His objective was to benpicked by the improv players, whonoften selected hapless members of thenaudience as targets of theatrical abuse.nPentzell figured that he was as good annactor as any of them, so he’d do themnone better when they coerced the “unwilling”ngent onto the stage.nPentzell’s rule-breaking tactics camento mind while watching Michael Bogdanov’snproduction of Shakespeare’snnnMeasure for Measure at the StratfordnFestival in Ontario, Canada. As thenpatrons filed into the Festival Theatre,nthe stage was set up to resemble ancabaret-type bar, where an effeminaten”host” presided in black leather. Twontransvestites ushered what seemed tonbe ticket-holding customers onto thenstage. These embarrassed patrons werenseated at tables and offered drinks fromnthe bar. The use of this sort of improvnschtick (now some 20 years old) madenit appear that Stratford was trying tontake a step away from its typicallynconventional staging. As it turns out,nhowever, all of the participants on thenstage were Shakespearean actors —nthough not crafty ones like Pentzell.nThe audience slowly realizes that itnwas all a setup, intended, I suspect, tondo nothing more than titillate.nBogdanov costumes the players,nwho play roles both in the prehminarynschtick and in Measure for Measure, inncontemporary clothing, implying, apparentiy,nthat the Shakespearean messagenis timeless. But that is not so innthe case of Measure for Measure, anplay whose meaning particularly requiresnthe audience to share Shakespeare’snown secure sense of a hierarchicallynordered society. But thenElizabethan Great Chain of Being,nfrom God to the lowest mote, has longndisappeared from the popular imagination.nThe “mere anarchy” that Yeatsnsaw loosed upon the world in “ThenSecond Coming” has only intensifiednsince. Shakespeare understandablyndramatized the need for a humanenlaxity within a social matrix that itselfnremained firm. Today, the matrix is innpieces. As the moral focus o[ Measurenfor Measure, Angelo learns through anseries of painful reversals to be lessnsevere in judging transgression. Thennew costuming for the play only servesnto obscure the tremendous shift innmoral perspectives from Elizabethanntimes, when tolerance was a secondarynvirtue, to our own, when it is annexcuse for having no others. ccnJANUARY 1986 / 41n