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ART speaks for itself in easy-to-understand language. But after the critics, historians, dealers and dilettantes have had their say, who bothers to consult the masterpieces themselves? All too often, the works are virtually ignored, while their wordy interpreters hold sway.Little do these art-iculate spokesmen care how the Venus of Milo feels when mothers chide, "That's what happens when you bite your fingernails." They are unmoved by the simple faith of George Washington, patiently awaiting Gilbert Stuart's return to finish his portrait. Nor do they ever realize the plight of Atlas in New York City's Rockefeller Plaza, upholding the world.And the public itself is often cruelly unfeeling. It would be impossible to reckon how many sensitive, introspective abstracts have suffered silently such taunts as, "My five-year old can do better than that with mittens on," or "To me, it looks like drunken wallpaper."We are the first to go right to the source and probe the reactions of the masterpieces themselves, cutting through the intrusion of the meddling middlemen. And in spite of their imposing gilt frames and ornate pedestals, our subjects were delightfully simple and human. Even they, the great immortals, have their disappointments and, in the case of certain statues, their feet of clay.Does The Thinker have a problem? What is the story behind the Leaning Tower? And Venus what was she doing rising nude out of that shell?Here at last are the answers to these and many other art puzzlers. Here, for the first time, stripped of their aura of greatness, the art treasures of the world stand revealed, by the only ones who really know: the treasures themselves.Bob Reisner Hal Kapplow