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Marsden Hartley Forms Abstracted 1914 oil on canvas, in artist's painted frame Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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Neil Winokur Marsden Hartley Book (Painting Number 5 on dust jacket) 1986 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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Marsden Hartley Untitled (Still Life) 1917 oil on glass Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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Marsden Hartley Landscape, New Mexico 1919-20 oil on canvas Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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Marsden Hartley New Mexico Recollection #12 1922-23 oil on canvas Blanton Museum of Art, Austin, Texas |
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Marsden Hartley Purple Mountains, Vence 1925-26 oil on canvas Phoenix Art Museum |
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Marsden Hartley Mushrooms on a Blue Background 1929 oil on panel Indianapolis Museum of Art |
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Marsden Hartley Yliaster (Paracelsus) 1932 oil on board Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
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Marsden Hartley Granite by the Sea 1937 oil on board Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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Marsden Hartley Robin Hood Cove, Georgetown, Maine 1938 oil on canvas Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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Marsden Hartley Young Hunter Hearing Call-To-Arms ca. 1939 oil on panel Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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Marsden Hartley Down-East Young Blades ca. 1940 oil on panel Wadsworth Atheneum, Hartford, Connecticut |
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Marsden Hartley Madawaska, Acadian Light-Heavy, Third Arrangement 1940 oil on board Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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Marsden Hartley Lobster ca. 1940-41 oil on board Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
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Marsden Hartley Wild Roses 1942 oil on board Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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George Platt Lynes Portrait of Marsden Hartley 1943 gelatin silver print Princeton University Art Museum |
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Marsden Hartley Roses 1943 oil on canvas Walker Art Center, Minneapolis |
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George Platt Lynes Portrait of Marsden Hartley 1943 gelatin silver print Art Institute of Chicago |
Hunters
A dark night – the streets belong to the cats.
The cats and whatever small things they find to kill –
The cats are fast like their ancestors in the hills
and hungry like their ancestors.
Hardly any moon. So the night's cool –
no moon to heat it up. Summer's on the way out
but for now there's still plenty to hunt
though the mice are quiet, watchful like the cats.
Smell the air – a still night, a night for love.
And every once in a while a scream
rising from the street below
where the cat's digging his teeth into the rat's leg.
Once the rat screams, it's dead. That scream is like a map:
it tells the cat where to find the throat. After that,
the scream's coming from a corpse.
You're lucky to be in love on nights like this,
still warm enough to lie naked on top of the sheets,
sweating because it's hard work, this love, no matter what anyone says.
The dead rats lie in the street, where the cat drops them.
Be glad you're not on the street now,
before the street cleaners come to sweep them away. When the sun rises,
it won't be disappointed with the world it finds,
the streets will be clean for the new day and the night that follows.
Just be glad you were in bed,
where the cries of love drown out the screams of the corpses.
– Louise Glück (2009)