Given the large number of movies, books, and general historical romanticizing about Greek life and culture, it is safe to assume a majority of people are familiar with the look of Hellenic art — if only as minimally as the greatest hits, such as the Parthenon or the Venus de Milo. It would also be a good bet that when considering Greece’s artistic output, Athens is the first, and perhaps only, city most people bring to mind, neglecting the equally important, and powerful, citystate of Sparta. But the exhibition “Athens-Sparta” makes it clear that to overlook Sparta’s unique, and curiously beguiling, artwork would be a mistake.

This intimate exhibition brings together 289 high-quality examples of pottery, bronze, marble, and ivory produced by workshops in Attic (the region containing Athens) and Laconic (the region containing Sparta). Ranging from the Late Geometric (1125–700 B.C.E.) to the Classical (490–323 B.C.E.) periods, these works sketch a basic profile of the two very different routes Athens and Sparta took as they grew and matured. While it was probably not his intended goal, the show’s curator, Nikos Kalsas, set up the classic compare-and-contrast scenario which both reinforces and shatters the stereotypes of these cities — Sparta as the conservative, anti-individualistic military society, and Athens as the progressive, democratic society based on the idea of the enlightened citizen.

Of course, the real payoff of this type of side-by-side investigation is the chance to ferret out a distinct Spartan sensibility, one entirely borne of the city’s particular social ideology that discouraged extraneous or overly luxurious art objects. And while these Laconic works are unquestionably not on the same aesthetic level as the more refined Attic wares, they are nonetheless fresh, direct, and unpretentious. A contemporary gallerygoer attuned to the faux-naïve style favored by artists such as Dana Schutz, Jules de Balincourt, and Chuck Webster will recognize and appreciate the straightforward, almost schematic, approach toward image-making found in Laconic objects.

A perfect example of this is the small Laconian bronze “Statuette of a Male Flute Player or Cupbearer” (8th century B.C.E.). It is a surprisingly abstract linear representation of a Henry Moore-like seated figure holding something to his mouth, rendered more as pulled taffy drawn in the air than solid cast-bronze sculpture. Obviously, the artist’s concern was not in getting the details right — even notation for eyes is absent. He was more intent on transmitting a slew of information through minimal means. For the Laconian mindset, it seems, the inherent decorativeness of the object did not matter as much as its ability to economically convey a message.

Laconian bronze-work was widely known and renowned in its day, reaching its zenith in the first half of the sixth century B.C.E. A prime example is the “Figurine of a Girl Runner” (550–40 B.C.E.), which depicts a highly masculinized girl mid-stride in an athletic event. Oddly, she displays very little movement, appearing flattened and static, like a hieroglyph, as if she were merely a diagram for the word “run.” Her body is hardy and strong, with cartoonishly overdeveloped calves, and her emotionless face feels generic. Far from being detrimental, these attributes ally to imbue the figure with a folksy — but not dumb — charm. As with the “Statuette of a Male Flute Player or Cupbearer,” this bronze seems to have been created less as a decorative object and more as a narrative to reinforce basic Spartan ideals, in this case the promotion of a physically fit, military-ready society.

Compare this Laconic figure to the contemporaneous Attic bronze “Statuette of an Athlete” (500 B.C.E.). He is standing tightly poised for action, with his arms at his side, one leg slightly in front as if about to initiate forward motion. His musculature is rendered naturalistically, his symmetrically proportioned face is full of emotion, and minute details from toenails to strands of hair have been considered. The entire sculpture is tense with potential, both literally and metaphorically. Not only is this boy on the verge of engaging in competitive sport, he is also representative of the Athenian ideal that man has the potential to achieve individual greatness. While perhaps more formally refined than the Laconic “Figurine of a Girl Runner,” both bronzes are successful extensions of the societies that produced them.

More directly highlighting the artistic and cultural differences dividing Athens and Sparta is an installation of coins along one wall of the exhibit. On the right are numerous examples of Athenian silver drachmas, decadrachmas, and tetradrachmas; on the left, examples of Spartan iron spits. The silver coins are thick and generous, their centers ripe with a throng of snappy, graphically rendered iconography including ox heads, owls, halfhorses, wheels, scarabs, and, of course, the head of Athena. The iron spits look like various lengths of withered, diseased vanilla beans.

Unlike Athens — which was the leading minter of coins in the archaic world — Sparta forbade its citizens from owning or using coins and prohibited industries that promoted extravagant lifestyles. As such, they issued unwieldy, corroded iron spits specifically sabotaged to prevent Spartan citizenry from getting any bright ideas of obtaining personal opulence. Yet, despite their intended lack of function or artistry, these craggy, slightly repulsive iron spits are somehow utterly engaging.

Until May 12 (645 Fifth Ave., between 51st and 52nd streets, 212-486-4448).