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| Leon Levinstein New York ca. 1975 gelatin silver print Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Leon Levinstein New Orleans ca. 1975 gelatin silver print Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Joanne Leonard Blake Street, Berkeley ca. 1975 gelatin silver print Minneapolis Institute of Art |
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| Arnold Newman Francis Bacon, London 1975 gelatin silver print Minneapolis Institute of Art |
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| Charles Harbutt Aboard Le Mistral, France 1975 gelatin silver print Minneapolis Institute of Art |
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| Robert Mapplethorpe Freya Stark 1975 gelatin silver print Los Angeles County Museum of Art |
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| Rod Mann Towel on Tuesday 1976 gelatin silver print Chrysler Museum of Art, Norfolk, Virginia |
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| Stephen Shore Greene County Court House, Eutaw, Alabama ca. 1976 C-print Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Lucas Samaras Photo-Transformation 1976 dye diffusion print Los Angeles County Museum of Art |
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| Joan Myers The Hollow 1976 gum kallitype print Los Angeles County Museum of Art |
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| Lawrence McFarland Church on Hill, Marysville, Kansas 1976 gelatin silver print Minneapolis Institute of Art |
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| Gregory Macgregor Mexican Flash Flood 1976 gelatin silver print Los Angeles County Museum of Art |
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| Benno Friedman Untitled 1976 hand-colored gelatin silver print Princeton University Art Museum |
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| René Burri San Cristóbal Stable and House planned by Luis Barragán, Mexico City 1976 C-print Tate Gallery |
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| William Clift Warren County Courthouse, Warrenton, Missouri 1976 gelatin silver print Cleveland Museum of Art, Ohio |
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| Patricia Duncan DuBose Prairie Fire 1977 C-print Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, Kansas City, Missouri |
Although Kanesuké Noguchi wore the mask of a beautiful young woman, his voice had nothing that would recall a woman's charm. It was a voice that made one think of the rasping together of rusty, discolored metal. Furthermore, his recitation was broken by interruptions, and his style of chanting seemed to be tearing the beauty of the words to shreds. But despite all this, the mood inspired was like the outpouring of a dark and ineffably elegant mist, like the sight of a moonbeam shining into a corner of a ruined palace to fall upon a mother-of-pearl furnishing. Because the light passed through a worn and ravaged bamboo blind, the elegance of the shattered fragments shone all the more.
Gradually, then, his harsh voice became far from irritating. Rather, one had the feeling that only through this harsh voice could one for the first time become aware of the briny sadness of Matsukazé and the melancholy love that afflicts those in the realm of the dead.
Honda at some point began to find it hard to tell whether the images that shifted to and fro before him were reality or illusion. On the gleaming cypress surface of the stage, like the mirroring sea at the shoreline, was reflected the glittering embroidery of the white robes and scarlet underskirts of two beautiful women.
– Yukio Mishima, Runaway Horses, translated by Michael Gallagher (Knopf, 1973)