 |
| Henri Le Sidaner Courtyard from a Window ca. 1904-1910 oil on canvas Manchester Art Gallery |
 |
| John S. Hawley Trees and Windows II 1962 lithograph Victoria & Albert Museum, London |
 |
| Dorothea Wright October Morning ca. 1990 color mezzotint Victoria & Albert Museum, London |
 |
| Hendrik Voogd View of Rome through a Window 1809 oil on panel Hermitage, Saint Petersburg |
 |
| John Quinton Pringle The Window 1924 oil on canvas Tate Gallery |
 |
| Niles Spencer The Dormer Window 1927 oil on canvas Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
 |
| Vanessa Bell Interior ca. 1950 oil on canvas Touchstones Rochdale, Lancashire |
 |
| Pierre Bonnard The Open Window 1921 oil on canvas Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
 |
| René Magritte The Promenades of Euclid 1955 oil on canvas Minneapolis Institute of Art |
 |
| René Magritte The Key of the Fields 1936 oil on canvas Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid |
 |
| Henri Matisse Interior with Egyptian Curtain 1948 oil on canvas Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
 |
| workshop of Robert Campin Madonna of the Firescreen (detail) ca. 1440 tempera and oil on panel National Gallery, London |
 |
| Spencer Gore View from a Window 1909 oil on canvas Southampton City Art Gallery, Hampshire |
 |
| Merlyn Evans Window by Day 1955 oil on canvas National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne |
 |
| John Delacour No Title (Mock Stone Wall) 1983 C-print National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne |
 |
| Dexter Dalwood The Crash 2008 photo-collage and gouache British Museum |
Summer
The host's girlfriend is barely seen.
She's busy giving away
wild animals to reluctant guests.
I agree to take a snake-dog,
maybe an electric eel, but when
I feel its sharp teeth in my shoulder,
I start to worry about
the future welfare of our fragile cat,
the precarious order of our rented house,
and remember
I am supposed to be looking for someone....
A half-wolf, half-elephant
cracks through the walls
of the peeling wallpapered bedroom
where my former student
in a fuschia robe and curlers sits
by a lighted make-up mirror.
The shadows off elongated fake eyelashes are as dark
as the branches of an evening tree.
The hovering body of a fiery sparrow is almost
transparent,
like flute music or an idea.
I turn my back
and finally, I spot her
my friend, the host.
She's sipping rum punch from a martini glass;
her whole body appears to be smiling, glowing,
and I don't know what to think.
I know she doesn't drink, hasn't in decades,
and I wonder what's suddenly changed, but
then I remember
the cancer won,
my friend isn't actually
here, there is no party,
there was never a house.
– Joanna Fuhrman (2015)