Stanley Whitney Blue Meets Yellow 2011 oil on canvas Palm Springs Art Museum, California |
Fred Tomaselli Bloom 2011 screenprint over inkjet print Fralin Museum of Art, Charlottesville, Virginia |
Nancy Chapman tante pis 2011 solarplate relief print New Britain Museum of American Art, Connecticut |
Daniel Sprick Jared 2011 oil on panel Denver Art Museum, Colorado |
Francesco Mastalia Anne Eschenroeder Big Little Farm, Gardiner, New York 2011 pigment print Loeb Art Center, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, New York |
Steven Laxton Clown 4 2011 giclée print Portland Museum of Art, Maine |
Sandra Ramos en el pais de los ciegos 2011 etching and aquatint San Diego Museum of Art |
Javier Rodriguez Mirror World: the Shambles of Our Shameless 2011 digital print (page from artist's book) National Gallery of Australia, Canberra |
John Galliano for Dior Coat Dress 2011 silk and polyamide Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto |
Ève Tremblay Study for Dancing Books 2011 C-print Musée National des Beaux-Arts du Québec |
Raphaëlle de Groot 70 objets emportés avec moi 2011 inkjet print Musée National des Beaux-Arts du Québec |
Tony Clark Two Half-Sections from Clark's Myriorama 2011 acrylic paint and marker on canvas Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney |
Thorsten Brinkmann Milk Can 2011 C-print Kunstmuseum, The Hague |
Tanja Alexia Hollander Flo Lunn, Brooklyn, New York 2011 pigment print Portland Museum of Art, Maine |
Ray Turner Untitled 2011 oil on glass Akron Art Museum, Ohio |
Ray Turner Untitled 2011 oil on glass Akron Art Museum, Ohio |
from Through the Looking Glass
Earth has turned over; our side feels the cold,
And life sinks choking in the wells of trees,
A faint heart here and there stops ticking, killed,
Icing on ponds entrances village boys:
Among wreathed holly and wrapped gifts I move,
Old carols on the piano, a glowing hearth,
All our traditional sympathy with birth,
Put by your challenge to the shifts of love.
Your portrait hangs before me on the wall,
And there what view I wish for I shall find,
The wooded or the stony, though not all
The painter's gifts can make its flatness round;
Through each blue iris greet the heaven of failures,
That mirror world where Logic is reversed,
Where age becomes the handsome child at last,
The glass wave parted for the country sailors.
There move the enormous comics, drawn from life –
My father as an Airedale and a gardener,
My mother chasing letters with a knife.
You are not present as a character;
(Only the family have speaking parts).
You are a valley or a river-bend,
The one an aunt refers to as a friend,
The tree from which the weasel racing starts.
Behind me roars that other world it matches,
Love's daytime kingdom which I say you rule,
His total state where all must wear your badges,
Keep order perfect as a naval school.
Noble emotions, organised and massed,
Line the straight flood-lit tracks of memory
To cheer your image as it flashes by,
All lust at once informed on and suppressed.
– W.H. Auden (1933)