Monday, July 1, 2024

Kimber - Kline - Kimbei - Killick

Mark Kimber
Mother in Backyard
1980
C-print
Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide

Mark Kimber
Night Falls #1
2002
Polaroid
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Mark Kimber
Trevor's Flowers
1981
C-print
Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide

Mark Kimber
Watertower, Airport
1980
C-print
Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide

Franz Kline
Cupola
ca. 1958-60
oil on canvas
Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto

Franz Kline
The Ballantine
1958-60
oil on canvas
Los Angeles County Museum of Art

Franz Kline
Untitled
1950
acrylic paint on newsprint
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Franz Kline
Untitled
ca. 1961
oil on cardboard
Huntington Museum of Art, Huntington, West Virginia

Kusakabe Kimbei
Chino-Taki, Asamayama
ca. 1870-75
hand-colored albumen silver print
National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa

Kusakabe Kimbei
Dressing: The Obi
ca. 1870
hand-colored albumen silver print
National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa

Kusakabe Kimbei
Models posing with Photograph
(advertising image for Kimbei Studio)
ca. 1885
hand-colored albumen silver print
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Kusakabe Kimbei
The Toilette
ca. 1870-75
hand-colored albumen silver print
National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa

Stephen Killick
Wildlife Strategies
1980
etching
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Stephen Killick
Walking in the Wind
1978
etching
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Stephen Killick
Fish eating Rice
1978
etching and aquatint
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Stephen Killick
One of Two Drawings of a Similar Ilk
1987
felt pen and oil stick on paper
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Another Time

For us like any other fugitive, 
Like the numberless flowers that cannot number
And all the beasts that need not remember,
It is to-day in which we live.

So many try to say Not Now,
So many have forgotten how
To say I Am, and would be
Lost, if they could, in history.

Bowing, for instance, with such old-world grace
To a proper flag in a proper place,
Muttering like ancients as they stump upstairs
Of Mine and His or Ours and Theirs.

Just as if time were what they used to will
When it was gifted with possession still,
Just as if they were wrong
In no more wishing to belong.

No wonder then so many die of grief,
So many are so lonely as they die;
No one has yet believed or liked a lie:
Another time has other lives to live.

– W.H. Auden (1939)