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| Bruce Davidson Subway 1980 C-print Cleveland Museum of Art, Ohio |
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| Bruce Davidson Subway 1980 C-print Cleveland Museum of Art, Ohio |
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| Terry Evans Clouds over the Prairie 1980 C-print Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Bernard Faucon Le Champs de Lavande 1980 fresson print Princeton University Art Museum |
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| Bernard Faucon Crucifixion 1980 fresson print Princeton University Art Museum |
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| Sorel Cohen After Bacon / Muybridge 1980 C-print Princeton University Art Museum |
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| John Coplans Marge and Susan 1980 gelatin silver print Princeton University Art Museum |
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| Robert Mapplethorpe William Burroughs 1980 gelatin silver print Los Angeles County Museum of Art |
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| Gilles Peress Mother and Child, Qom ca. 1980 gelatin silver print Minneapolis Institute of Art |
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| Leland Rice Wall Site (Lodata Studio, Yellow Rectangle, Pasadena) 1980 C-print Los Angeles County Museum of Art |
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| Peter Hujar Nude Blowing Spit-Bubbles 1980 gelatin silver print Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Joel-Peter Witkin Woman Breastfeeding an Eel 1979 gelatin silver print Minneapolis Institute of Art |
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| Gretchen Garner Looking For You 1980 C-print Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Gretchen Garner More Itself Than One Knew 1980 C-print Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Bruce Barnbaum Central Arches, Wells Cathedral 1980 gelatin silver print Los Angeles County Museum of Art |
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| Eugene D. Woolridge Ocean View Roller Coaster 1979 C-print Chrysler Museum of Art, Norfolk, Virginia |
Palindrome
There is less difficulty – indeed, no logical difficulty at all – in
imagining two portions of the universe, say two galaxies, in which
time goes one way in one galaxy and the opposite way in the
other. . . . Intelligent beings in each galaxy would regard their own
time as "forward" and time in the other galaxy as "backward."
– Martin Gardner, in Scientific American
Somewhere now she takes off the dress I am
putting on. It is evening in the antiworld
where she lives. She is forty-five years away
from her death, the hole which spit her out
into pain, impossible at first, later easing,
going, gone. She has unlearned much by now.
Her skin is firming, her memory sharpens,
her hair has grown glossy. She sees without glasses,
she falls in love easily. Her husband has lost his
shuffle, they laugh together. Their money shrinks,
but their ardor increases. Soon her second child
will be young enough to fight its way into her
body and change its life to monkey to frog to
tadpole to cluster of cells to tiny island to
nothing. She is making a list:
Things I will need in the past
lipstick
shampoo
transistor radio
Sergeant Pepper
acne cream
five-year diary with a lock
She is eager, having heard about adolescent love
and the freedom of children. She wants to read
Crime and Punishment and ride on a roller coaster
without getting sick. I think of her as she will
be at fifteen, awkward, too serious. In the
mirror I see she uses her left hand to write,
her other to open a jar. By now our lives should
have crossed. Somewhere sometime we must have
passed one another like going and coming trains
with both of us looking the other way.
– Lisel Mueller (1969)