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| Donna Ferrato Sailors and Sisters, San Francisco 1976 pigment print Delaware Art Museum, Wilmington |
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| Richard Misrach Stonehenge #1 1976 gelatin silver print Menil Collection, Houston |
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| Bea Nettles Fountain 1976 hand-colored cyanotype Akron Art Museum, Ohio |
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| Nicholas Nixon Off Longwood Avenue, Boston 1976 gelatin silver print Dallas Museum of Art |
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| Herbert Lotz Buckman 1976 gelatin silver print New Mexico Museum of Art, Santa Fe |
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| Josef Koudelka Irsko 1976 gelatin silver print Los Angeles County Museum of Art |
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| Knut Rose Untitled 1976 acrylic and oil on canvas Nasjonalmuseet, Oslo |
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| Lawrence Schiller Patty Hearst, San Francisco, California 1976 C-print Orange County Museum of Art, Costa Mesa, California |
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| Claes Oldenburg Inverted Q 1976 painted cast concrete Akron Art Museum, Ohio |
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| Carolyn Brady East Lake 1976 watercolor on paper Delaware Art Museum, Wilmington |
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| David Blossom My Theodosia by Anya Seton (cover design for novel) 1976 acrylic on board Delaware Art Museum, Wilmington |
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| Karel Appel Close Together 1976 painted wood NSU Art Museum, Fort Lauderdale, Florida |
-Horses-Illinois-1976-gelatin-silver-print-Blanton-Museum-of-Art-Austiin-Texas.jpeg) |
| Ruth Thorne-Thomsen Horses, Illinois 1976 gelatin silver print Blanton Museum of Art, Austin, Texas |
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| Todd Webb Bridge Street, Bath 1976 gelatin silver print Loeb Art Center, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, New York |
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| Firooz Zahedi Untitled (series, Elizabeth Taylor in Iran) 1976 C-print Los Angeles County Museum of Art |
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| Firooz Zahedi Untitled (series, Elizabeth Taylor in Iran) 1976 C-print Los Angeles County Museum of Art |
from Memorial for the City
I
The eyes of the crow and the eye of the camera open
Onto Homer's world, not ours. First and last
They magnify earth, the abiding
Mother of gods and men; if they notice either
It is only in passing: gods behave, men die,
Both feel in their own small way, but She
Does nothing and does not care.
She alone is seriously there.
The crow on the crematorium chimney
And the camera roving the battle
Record a space where time has no place.
On the right a village is burning, in a market-town to the left
The soldiers fire, the mayor bursts into tears,
The captives are led away, while far in the distance
A tanker sinks into a dedolent sea.
That is the way things happen; for ever and ever
Plum blossom falls on the dead, the roar of the waterfall covers
The cries of the whipped and the sighs of the lovers
And the hard bright light composes
A meaningless moment into an eternal fact
Which a whistling messenger disappears with into a defile:
One enjoys glory, one endures shame;
He may, she must. There is no one to blame.
The steady eyes of the crow and the camera's candid eye
See as honestly as they know how, but they lie.
The crime of life is not time. Even now, in this night,
Among the ruins of the Post-Virgilian City
Where our past is a chaos of graves and the barbed-wire stretches ahead
Into our future till it is lost to sight,
Our grief is not Greek: As we bury our dead
We know without knowing there is reason for what we bear,
That our hurt is not a desertion, that we are to pity
Neither ourselves nor our city;
Whoever the searchlights catch, whatever the loudspeakers blare,
We are not to despair.
– W.H. Auden (1949)