Alberto Giacometti looks like a tormented Chico Marx; he also sculps and paints with the bug-eyed fury of a Harpo, and creates things undreamed of even in Groucho's philosophy. His subject matter is the human frame; his approach to it destructive. Giacometti hacks, picks and pocks his plaster sculptures until they stand thin as reeds, then he generally smashes them. He saved just enough to make an exhibition in a Paris gallery last week.
Born in Switzerland 49 years ago, Giacometti found his way to Paris early, dabbled for years in surrealism. To earn...
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