Grace Cossington-Smith The Lacquer Room 1936 oil on board Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney |
Herbert Badham Breakfast Piece 1936 oil on panel Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney |
James Cant Objects in a Landscape 1936 oil on canvas National Gallery of Australia, Canberra |
Louise Dahl-Wolfe Chinese Vase 1936 gelatin silver print Art Institute of Chicago |
Mary Edwell-Burke Self Portrait 1936 oil on canvas Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney |
David Bomberg The Valley of Beddgelert, North Wales 1936 oil on canvas Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide |
Phil Dike Copper 1936 oil on canvas Phoenix Art Museum, Arizona |
Man Ray Mathematical Object 1936 gelatin silver print National Gallery of Australia, Canberra |
George Platt Lynes Blanchard Kennedy 1936 gelatin silver print National Gallery of Australia, Canberra |
Max Ernst (designer) Catalogue - International Surrealist Exhibition - London 1936 lineblock after collage, with letterpress National Gallery of Australia, Canberra |
Harold Edgerton Antique Gun Firing 1936 gelatin silver print Beaverbrook Art Gallery, Fredericton, New Brunswick |
Wanda Gag Cobbler's Shop 1936 woodcut New Britain Museum of American Art, Connecticut |
Reginald Marsh Minsky's New Gotham Chorus 1936 etching New Britain Museum of American Art, Connecticut |
Hugh Joseph Ward Illustration for Spicy Detective Magazine 1936 oil on canvas New Britain Museum of American Art, Connecticut |
Henry Landon Parkhurst Illustration for Spicy Detective Magazine 1936 oil on canvas New Britain Museum of American Art, Connecticut |
Elsa Schiaparelli Evening Gown 1936 silk satin (bias cut) and silk tulle National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne |
from The Quest
No window in his suburb lights that bedroom where
A little fever heard large afternoons at play:
His meadows multiply; that mill, though, is not there
Which went on grinding at the back of love all day.
Nor all his weeping ways through weary wastes have found
The castle where his Greater Hallows are interned;
For broken bridges halt him, and dark thickets round
Some ruin where an evil heritage was burned.
Could he forget a child's ambition to be old
And institutions where it learned to wash and lie,
He'd tell the truth for which he thinks himself too young,
The castle where his Greater Hallows are interned;
For broken bridges halt him, and dark thickets round
Some ruin where an evil heritage was burned.
Could he forget a child's ambition to be old
And institutions where it learned to wash and lie,
He'd tell the truth for which he thinks himself too young,
That everywhere on his horizon, all the sky,
Is now, as always, only waiting to be told
To be his father's house and speak his mother tongue.
Is now, as always, only waiting to be told
To be his father's house and speak his mother tongue.
– W.H. Auden (1940)