Eliot Hodgkin Pink and White Turnips 1971 oil paint on board Tate Gallery |
Colin Self The Gardens - with Four Eagles 1972 graphite on board Tate Gallery |
Viktor Pivovarov Meditation by the Window 1972 enamel on board Tate Gallery |
Ben Nicholson 78 (16 Strings) 1978 watercolor and oil paint on paper Tate Gallery |
from The New Spirit
"We were just the other night leafing through some old declarations, nostalgic for the first crisp rendering of the difference, like an outcry, the difference between what separated us and what we were now going to do. How like children in the way of thinking that some beatific scrap may always fall and as time goes by and nothing ever happens one is not disappointed but secretly pleased and confirmed in one's superstition: the magic world really does exist. Its dumbness is the proof of this. Indeed any sign of activity on its part would be cause for alarm, since it does not need us, need to signal its clarion certainties into our abashed, timid, half-make-believe commerce of every day."
from The System
"The great careers are like that: a slow burst that narrows to a final release, pointed but not acute, a life of suffering redeemed and annihilated at the end, and for what? For a casual moment of knowing that is here one minute and gone the next, almost before you were aware of it? Whole tribes of seekers of phenomena who mattered very much to themselves have gone up in smoke in the space of a few seconds, with less fuss than a shooting star."
from The Recital
"It no longer mattered very much whether prayers were answered with concrete events or the oracle gave a convincing reply, for there was no longer anyone to care in the old sense of caring. There were new people watching and waiting, conjugating in this way the distance and emptiness, transforming the scarcely noticeable bleakness into something both intimate and noble. The performance had ended, the audience streamed out; the applause still echoed in the empty hall. But the idea of the spectacle as something to be acted out and absorbed still hung in the air long after the last spectator had gone home to sleep."
– John Ashbery, published in Three Poems (Viking, 1972)
Robert Motherwell Elegy to the Spanish Republic #132 1975-85 acrylic paint on canvas Tate Gallery |
Jennifer Durrant Sweet Pea Painting 1978-79 acrylic paint on canvas Tate Gallery |
Philip Guston Monument 1976 oil paint on canvas Tate Gallery |
Philip Guston Cornered 1971 oil paint on paper, mounted on board Tate Gallery |
John Hoyland Saracen 1977 acrylic paint on canvas Tate Gallery |
Michael Moon Table 1978 acrylic paint on canvas Tate Gallery |
Incident in Mexico (1835)
The two had gone through unsettled country
where no water was to be had for the horses they were riding
and suddenly
they came upon a stream
flowing over a bed of yellow sand.
The horses sprang forward
to drink
and the riders dismounted,
holding the reins loosely in their hands,
while the horses stepped down from the bank
into the clear water.
But one of the riders
saw the forefeet of his horse
sink quickly – too quickly – into the streams' bottom of sand
and jerked the horse away.
The other horse, eager to drink, went on
and sank to his shoulders in the sand.
As the horse tried to get out,
lifting his chest high,
the sand drew his haunches into the sand.
The horse gave a shrill cry,
tossing his head;
his mane fluttered for a moment on the water
and then the sand closed over him.
– Charles Reznikoff, from Last Poems (Black Sparrow Press, 1977)
Jeremy Moon Drawing [1970] 1970 pastel on paper Tate Gallery |
Roger Hilton Untitled 1971 oil paint on canvas Tate Gallery |
Gerald Wilde The Marriage of Heaven and Hell 1971-72 pastel and gouache on paper Tate Gallery |