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| Serge Vandercam L'Echo 1970 gouache on paper NSU Art Museum, Fort Lauderdale, Florida |
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| Frank Stella Raqqa II 1970 acrylic on canvas North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh |
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| Arnaldo Pomodoro Untitled 1970 lithograph San Jose Museum of Art, California |
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| Robert Motherwell Open no. 176 (in Crimson with Orange and Black Line) 1970 acrylic on canvas Tacoma Art Museum, Washington State |
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| Andy Warhol Exhibition Poster Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago 1970 screenprint San Jose Museum of Art, California |
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| Asger Jorn Untitled 1970 lithograph NSU Art Museum, Fort Lauderdale, Florida |
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| Patrick Heron Interlocking Scarlet and Pink in Deep Green 1970 screenprint Fralin Museum of Art, Charlottesville, Virginia |
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| James Brooks Ashawagh 1970 lithograph Delaware Art Museum, Wilmington |
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| Walter Askin Bruegel-Britannia 1970 screenprint Norton Simon Museum, Pasadena, California |
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| Karel Appel Looking to the Infinite 1970 lithograph NSU Art Museum, Fort Lauderdale, Florida |
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| John Chamberlain Untitled 1970 urethane foam with cord Akron Art Museum, Ohio |
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| Leonard Baskin Blue Teasel 1970 color etching Wichita Art Museum, Kansas |
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| Ed Vebell Art Thieves 1970 drawing (magazine illustration) New Britain Museum of American Art, Connecticut |
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| Kenneth Josephson Illinois 1970 gelatin silver print Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Jay DeFeo After-Image 1970 drawing with added gouache Menil Collection, Houston |
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| Imogen Cunningham Warning 1970 gelatin silver print Norton Simon Museum, Pasadena, California |
from "The Truest Poetry Is the Most Feigning"
By all means sing of love but, if you do,
Please make a rare old proper hullabaloo:
When ladies ask How much do you love me?
The Christian answer is così-così;
The Christian answer is così-così;
But poets are not celibate divines:
Had Dante said so, who would read his lines?
Be subtle, various, ornamental, clever,
And do not listen to those critics ever
Whose crude provincial gullets crave in books
Plain cooking made still plainer by plain cooks,
As though the Muse preferred her half-wit sons;
Had Dante said so, who would read his lines?
Be subtle, various, ornamental, clever,
And do not listen to those critics ever
Whose crude provincial gullets crave in books
Plain cooking made still plainer by plain cooks,
As though the Muse preferred her half-wit sons;
Good poets have a weakness for bad puns.
Suppose your Beatrice be, as usual, late,
And you would tell us how it feels to wait,
You're free to think, what may be even true,
You're so in love that one hour seems like two,
But write – As I sat waiting for her call,
Each second longer darker seemed than all
You're free to think, what may be even true,
You're so in love that one hour seems like two,
But write – As I sat waiting for her call,
Each second longer darker seemed than all
(Something like this but more elaborate still)
Those raining centuries it took to fill
That quarry whence Endymion's Love was torn;
From such ingenious fibs are poems born.
That quarry whence Endymion's Love was torn;
From such ingenious fibs are poems born.
Then, should she leave you for some other guy,
Or ruin you with debts, or go and die,
No metaphor, remember can express
A real historical unhappiness;
Or ruin you with debts, or go and die,
No metaphor, remember can express
A real historical unhappiness;
Your tears have value if they make us gay;
O Happy Grief! is all sad verse can say.
– W.H. Auden (1953)