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| Anonymous Flemish Artist Portrait of Lady Elizabeth Walshe 1589 oil on panel York City Art Gallery |
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| Anonymous Flemish Artist Portrait of a Man ca. 1575-80 oil on panel Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Anonymous Flemish Artist Portrait of William Paget, 1st Baron Paget de Beaudesert 1549 oil on panel National Trust, Plas Newydd, Wales |
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| Antonis Mor Two Canons of Utrecht Cathedral 1544 oil on panel Gemäldegalerie, Berlin |
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| Antonis Mor Portrait of a Lady ca. 1560-70 oil on panel Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Antonis Mor Portrait of Hubert Goltzius 1576 oil on panel Musées Royaux des Beaux-Arts, Brussels |
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| Frans Pourbus the Younger The Infanta Isabella Clara Eugenia, Archduchess of Austria ca. 1598 oil on panel Groeningemuseum, Bruges |
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| Frans Pourbus the Younger Portrait of the Wife of Nicolas de Hellincx 1592 oil on panel National Gallery of Ireland, Dublin |
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| Frans Floris Head of a Bearded Man ca. 1565 oil on panel Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Catharina van Hemessen Portrait of a Lady 1551 oil on panel National Gallery, London |
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| Adriaen Thomasz Key Portrait of a Family 1583 oil on panel Museo del Prado, Madrid |
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| attributed to Adriaen Thomasz Key Portrait of a Lady 1564 oil on panel Musées Royaux des Beaux-Arts, Brussels |
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| Adriaen Thomasz Key Portrait of a Lady ca. 1585 oil on panel Musée des Beaux-Arts de Rennes |
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| Willem Key Portrait of a Lady 1543 oil on canvas Gemäldegalerie, Berlin |
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| Hans Eworth Allegorical Portrait of Sir John Luttrell 1550 oil on panel Courtauld Gallery, London |
As I sit staring out of my window
Wasting time which the traffic does not waste,
Nor any of the passers by in the street
Who keep time with time as they go
Measuring the seconds with their feet,
In their minds riding the crested tide
On white horses of pursuant days
I think of you, James, at another window
With your stubby hands relaxed and your blue gaze
Invaded by a sense of emptiness,
Startled as if a gust of air
Had blown through the interstices
Of your mind and hair,
Ruffling your forehead with a puzzled despair.
But I have learned lately that the spaces
And the timeless loneliness
Of the unfruitful waste places,
The desert, the untidy room, and the hour
Between waking and sleep,
Are windows opened onto power
When we become most what we are,
When the conscious eye and ear
Are severed from what they see and hear
And in the hollow silent blackness deep,
Living tunes and images flower.
– Stephen Spender (1940)