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| Robert Ebendorf Beach Necklace 1992 plastic and metal Racine Art Museum, Wisconsin |
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| Victor Costa Cocktail Dress 1992 polyester taffeta and nylon Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto |
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| Dirk de Herder Greenhouse 1992 gelatin silver print Kunstmuseum, The Hague |
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| Jane Hammond Untitled 1992 oil on canvas San Jose Museum of Art, California |
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| Brigid Toole Grant Carcass of a Female Right Whale 1992 watercolor on paper New Brunswick Museum, Saint John |
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| Leon Golub Interrogation 1992 screenprint Lowe Art Museum, University of Miami |
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| Nan Goldin Self Portrait on the Train, Germany 1992 C-print Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston |
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| Ad Gerritsen Reproduction of the Species III 1992 oil on canvas Kunstmuseum, The Hague |
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| Rimma Gerlovina and Valeriy Gerlovin Birth of Aphrodite 1992 C-print Nasher Museum of Art, Durham, North Carolina |
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| James Garrett Faulkner Exposition 1992 collage on paper Madison Museum of Contemporary Art, Wisconsin |
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| Marlene Dumas The Messengers 1992 oil on canvas (four panels) Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston |
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| Rineke Dijkstra Brighton, England, August 21, 1992 1992 C-print Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Ben Culwell I Can't Believe He's Dead 1992 watercolor and ink on paper McNay Art Museum, San Antonio, Texas |
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| Tillman Crane Back Yard 1992 gelatin silver print Farnsworth Art Museum, Rockland, Maine |
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| Alighiero Boetti Extra Strong 1992 mixed media on paper, mounted on canvas Kunstmuseum, The Hague |
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| Robert Cottingham Art 1992 lithograph New Britain Museum of American Art, Connecticut |
from In Praise of Limestone
They were right, my dear, all those voices were right
And still are; this land is not the sweet home that it looks,
Nor its peace the historical calm of a site
Where something was settled once and for all: A backward
And dilapidated province, connected
To the big busy world by a tunnel, with a certain
Seedy appeal, is that all it is now? Not quite:
It has a worldly duty which in spite of itself
It does not neglect, but calls into question
All the Great Powers assume; it disturbs our rights. The poet,
Admired for his earnest habit of calling
The sun the sun, his mind Puzzle, is made uneasy
By these marble statues which so obviously doubt
His antimythological myth; and these gamins,
Pursuing the scientist down the tiled colonnade
With such lively offers, rebuke his concern for Nature's
Remotest aspects: I, too, am reproached, for what
And how much you know. Not to lose time, not to get caught,
Not to be left behind, not, please! to resemble
The beasts who repeat themselves, or a thing like water
Or stone whose conduct can be predicted, these
Are our Common Prayer, whose greatest comfort is music
Which can be made anywhere, is invisible,
And does not smell. In so far as we have to look forward
To death as a fact, no doubt we are right: But if
Sins can be forgiven, if bodies rise from the dead,
These modifications of matter into
Innocent athletes and gesticulating fountains,
Made solely for pleasure, make a further point:
The blessed will not care what angle they are regarded from,
Having nothing to hide. Dear, I know nothing of
Either, but when I try to imagine a faultless love
Or the life to come, what I hear is the murmur
Of underground streams, what I see is a limestone landscape.
– W.H. Auden (1948)