Faienceries de Longwy (Alsace-Lorraine) Covered Box ca. 1925 glazed earthenware Museum of Fine Arts, Boston |
Faienceries de Longwy (Alsace-Lorraine) Covered Box ca. 1925 glazed earthenware Museum of Fine Arts, Boston |
Faienceries de Longwy (Alsace-Lorraine) Jardinière ca. 1873-80 glazed earthenware Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York |
Faienceries de Longwy (Alsace-Lorraine) Vase ca. 1920-25 glazed earthenware Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto |
François-Xavier Fabre Portrait of writer Louis-François Bertin 1803 oil on canvas Musée Fabre, Montpellier |
François-Xavier Fabre Portrait of Caroline Scitivaux ca. 1808-1814 oil on paper, mounted on canvas Musée Fabre, Montpellier |
François-Xavier Fabre Compositional Study for The Judgment of Solomon ca. 1800 drawing British Museum |
François-Xavier Fabre Marius at Minturnae ca. 1796-1800 etching and aquatint Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York |
Filippo Falciatore Hercules and Lichas before 1768 drawing Art Institute of Chicago |
Filippo Falciatore An Assault by Brigands ca. 1735-40 oil on canvas Staatsgalerie Stuttgart |
Filippo Falciatore An Assault by Pirates ca. 1735-40 oil on canvas Staatsgalerie Stuttgart |
Filippo Falciatore Concert in a Garden 1750 oil on canvas Detroit Institute of Arts |
Terry Evans Roadless Area near Yaak Valley, Montana 1999 C-print Art Institute of Chicago |
Terry Evans Oak Street Beach, Chicago 2004 inkjet print Art Institute of Chicago |
Terry Evans Field Museum, Brown Creeper Nest, 1914 2001 inkjet print Art Institute of Chicago |
Terry Evans Field Museum, Trumpeter Swan, North Dakota, 1891 2001 inkjet print Art Institute of Chicago |
Gretel in Darkness
This is the world we wanted.
All who would have seen us dead
are dead. I hear the witch's cry
break in the moonlight through a sheet
of sugar: God rewards.
Her tongue shrivels into gas . . .
Now, far from women's arms
and memory of women, in our father's hut
we sleep, are never hungry.
Why do I not forget?
My father bars the door, bars harm
from this house, and it is years.
No one remembers. Even you, my brother,
summer afternoons you look at me as though
you meant to leave,
as though it never happened.
But I killed for you. I see armed firs,
the spires of that gleaming kiln –
Nights I turn to you to hold me
but you are not there.
Am I alone? Spies
hiss in the stillness. Hansel,
we are there still and it is real, real,
that black forest and the fire in earnest.
– Louise Glück (1975)