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| Almanach (painter from Antwerp) Card Players ca. 1670 oil on canvas National Gallery of Slovenia, Ljubljana |
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| Félix Vallotton The Success 1912 oil on canvas Kunsthaus Zürich |
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| Marcantonio Raimondi Musician in Landscape ca. 1505 engraving Kupferstichkabinett, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin |
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| Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld Portrait of Clara Bianca von Quandt 1820 oil on panel Alte Nationalgalerie, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin |
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| Hendrik Goltzius The Muse Terpsichore 1592 engraving Morgan Library, New York |
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| Anonymous French Artist Young Woman tuning a Lute ca. 1750 drawing Kupferstichkabinett, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin |
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| Jean-Baptiste Siméon Chardin Young Draughtsman 1737 oil on canvas Gemäldegalerie, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin |
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| Diamantis Diamantopoulos The Drawing ca. 1938 tempera on board National Gallery, Athens |
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| Giambettino Cignaroli Self Portrait 1755 oil on canvas Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna |
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| Dante Gabriel Rossetti Elizabeth Siddal painting at an Easel ca. 1854-55 drawing Courtauld Gallery, London |
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| David Oyens Framing the Painting 1878 oil on panel Teylers Museum, Haarlem |
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| Jacques de Gheyn III Old Man Writing ca. 1616 drawing Hamburger Kunsthalle |
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| Lesser Ury Interior with Woman Writing 1898 oil on canvas Alte Nationalgalerie, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin |
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| Lucas van Leyden St Luke 1518 engraving Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest |
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| Lucas van Leyden St Mark 1518 engraving Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest |
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| Nicolaes Maes The Account Keeper 1656 oil on canvas Saint Louis Art Museum |
You Are Afraid of the Dark
You are afraid of the dark,
for which you blame the raccoons,
or more to the point, your father,
for which you blame the raccoons,
or more to the point, your father,
who took you and your mother
into the night with a flashlight
and shotgun, then left
and shotgun, then left
with both, while you held
her shaking hand. You
would follow your father
to the end of the world,
those distant birch woods
those distant birch woods
where raccoons rustle
and flash their green eyes.
His gun was firing
into the persimmon trees
and the rain of leaves and ripe fruit
fell farther and farther,
until only the crackle
of his shots and the distant baying
of the hounds could be heard.
The raccoons came then
to hiss all around:
he left you, he left you,
and now you are ours.
– Kathryn Nuemberger (2011)