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| Paul Gauguin Portrait Vase of Madame Schuffenecker ca. 1889-90 glazed stoneware Dallas Museum of Art |
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| Paul Gauguin Portrait of Madeleine Bernard 1888 oil on canvas Musée de Grenoble |
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| Paul Gauguin Above the Sea 1889 oil on canvas Indianapolis Museum of Art |
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| Paul Gauguin The Green Christ 1889 oil on canvas Musées Royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique, Brussels |
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| Ignaz Günther Chronos ca. 1765-70 lindenwood Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, Munich |
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| Ignaz Günther St John the Baptist 1751 lindenwood relief Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, Munich |
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| Ignaz Günther St John the Baptist 1771 painted lindenwood Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, Munich |
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| Ignaz Günther St Joseph in Clouds with Infant Christ 1771 painted hardwood Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, Munich |
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| Domenico Ghirlandaio Portrait of a Young Woman ca. 1490 tempera on panel Musée Fabre, Montpellier |
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| Domenico Ghirlandaio Portrait of Lucrezia Tornabuoni ca. 1475 tempera and oil on panel National Gallery of Art, Washington DC |
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| Domenico Ghirlandaio Portrait of a Young Woman ca. 1490 tempera and oil on panel Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, Massachusetts |
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| Domenico Ghirlandaio Drapery Study ca. 1485 drawing Kupferstichkabinett, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin |
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| Heinrich Friedrich Füger Coriolanus implored by his Family to spare Rome ca. 1795 drawing Cantor Arts Center, Stanford University |
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| Heinrich Friedrich Füger Princess Josepha Sophie von Liechtenstein ca. 1805 oil on canvas Liechtenstein Museum, Vienna |
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| Heinrich Friedrich Füger Prometheus creating the First Man 1790 oil on canvas Liechtenstein Museum, Vienna |
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| Heinrich Friedrich Füger Self Portrait ca. 1814-15 oil on canvas Liechtenstein Museum, Vienna |
from The Sea and the Mirror
(a commentary on Shakespeare's The Tempest)
Prospero to Ariel:
When I woke into my life, a sobbing dwarf
Whom giants served only as they pleased, I was not what I seemed;
Beyond their busy backs I made a magic
To ride away from a father's imperfect justice,
Take vengeance on the Romans for their grammar,
Usurp the popular earth and blot out for ever
The gross insult of being a mere one among many:
Now, Ariel, I am that I am, your late and lonely master,
Who knows now what magic is: – the power to enchant
That comes from disillusion. What the books can teach one
Is that most desires end up in stinking ponds,
But we have only to learn to sit still and give no orders,
To make you offer us your echo and your mirror;
We have only to believe you, then you dare not lie;
To ask for nothing, and at once from your calm eyes,
With their lucid proof of apprehension and disorder,
All we are not stares back at what we are. For all things,
In your company, can be themselves: historic deeds
Drop their hauteur and speak of shabby childhoods
When all they longed for was to join in the gang of doubts
Who so tormented them, sullen diseases
Forget their dreadful appearance and make silly jokes;
Thick-headed goodness for once is not a bore.
No one but you had sufficient audacity and eyesight
To find those clearings where the shy humiliations
Gambol on sunny afternoons, the waterhole to which
The scarred rogue sorrow comes quietly in the small hours:
And no one but you is reliably informative on hell;
As you whistle and skip past, the poisonous
Resentments scuttle over your unrevolted feet,
And even the uncontrollable vertigo,
Because it can scent no shame, is unobliged to strike.
– W.H. Auden (1942-44)