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| Jamie Wyeth La Bohème 1971 lithograph Wright Museum of Art, Beloit, Wisconsin |
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| Andy Warhol Electric Chair 1971 screenprint Akron Art Museum, Ohio |
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| Vinciata (Joseph Wallace King) Queen Elizabeth II 1971 oil on canvas North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh |
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| William Turnbull Fugue VII 1971 screenprint Fralin Museum of Art, Charlottesville, Virginia |
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| Hans Krondahl for Katja of Sweden Rainbow 1971 screen-printed cotton fabric panel Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Svein Strand Table and Window 1971 oil on canvas Nasjonalmuseet, Oslo |
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| Frank Stella Hampton Roads (blue) 1971 lithograph Dallas Museum of Art |
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| Tony Smith Yellow Bird 1971 painted and folded paper Seattle Art Museum |
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| Wolfgang Schröder Du Bist Orplid, Mein Land! 1971 screenprint Wichita Art Museum, Kansas |
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| Gerhard Richter Telephone 1971 lithograph Dallas Museum of Art |
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| Kaare Rafoss Untitled (Pink) 1971 acrylic on canvas Dallas Museum of Art |
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| Fairfield Porter Jimmy with Lamp 1971 oil on canvas Portland Museum of Art, Maine |
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| Pablo Picasso Homme et Femme Nus 1971 oil on canvas Nasher Sculpture Center, Dallas |
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| Philip Pearlstein Two Nudes on Old Indian Blanket 1971 etching New Britain Museum of American Art, Connecticut |
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| Alice Neel Ginny with Yellow Hat 1971 oil on canvas Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Reinier Lucassen Still Life with Morandi 1971 acrylic on canvas Kunstmuseum, The Hague |
from Homage to Clio
Artemis,
Aphrodite, are Major Powers and all wise
Castellans will mind their p's and q's,
But it is you, who never have spoken up,
Madonna of silences, to whom we turn
When we have lost control, your eyes, Clio, into which
We look for recognition after
We have been found out. How shall I describe you? They
Can be represented in granite
(One guesses at once from the perfect buttocks,
The flawless mouth too grand to have corners,
Whom the colossus must be), but what icon
Have the arts for you, who look like any
Girl one has not noticed and show no special
Affinity with a beast? I have seen
Your photo, I think, in the papers, nursing
A baby or mourning a corpse: each time
You had nothing to say and did not, one could see,
Observe where you were, Muse of the unique
Historical fact, defending with silence
Some world of your beholding, a silence
No explosion can conquer but a lover's Yes
Has been known to fill. So few of the Big
Ever listen: that is why you have a great host
Of superfluous screams to care for and
Why, up and down like the Duke of Cumberland,
Or round and round like the Laxey Wheel,
The Short, The Bald, The Pious, The Stammerer went,
As the children of Artemis go,
Not yours. Lives that obey you move like music,
Becoming now what they only can be once,
Making of silence decisive sound: it sounds
Easy, but one must find the time. Clio,
Muse of Time, but for whose merciful silence
Only the first step would count and that
Would always be murder, whose kindness never
Is taken in, forgive our noises
And teach us our recollections: to throw away
The tiniest fault of someone we love
Is out of the question, says Aphrodite,
Who should know, yet one has known people
Who have done just that. Approachable as you seem,
I dare not ask you if you bless the poets,
For you do not look as if you ever read them,
Nor can I see a reason why you should.
– W.H. Auden (1955)