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| Cindy Sherman Untitled #109 1982 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled #110 1982 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled #112 1982 C-print Guggenheim Museum, New York |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled #123 1983 C-print Moderna Museet, Stockholm |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled #136 1984 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled #146 1985 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled #167 1986 C-print Guggenheim Museum, New York |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled #175 1987 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled #264 1992 C-print Guggenheim Museum, New York |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled 1992 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled #311 1994 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled #347 1999 gelatin silver print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled 2000 C-print Walker Art Center, Minneapolis |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled 2004 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled #466 2008 C-print Roberts Institute of Art, London |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled #470 2008 C-print Moderna Museet, Stockholm |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled 2008 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
from A Myth of Innocence
One summer she goes into the field as usual
stopping for a bit at the pond where she often
looks at herself, to see
if she detects any changes. She sees
the same person, the horrible mantle
of daughterliness still clinging to her.
The sun seems, in the water, very close.
That's my uncle, spying again, she thinks –
everything in nature is in some way her relative.
I am never alone, she thinks,
turning the thought into a prayer.
Then death appears, like the answer to a prayer.
No one understands anymore
how beautiful he was. But Persephone remembers.
Also that he embraced her, right there,
with her uncle watching. She remembers
sunlight flashing on his bare arms.
This is the last moment she remembers clearly.
Then the dark god bore her away.
– Louise Glück (2006)