Binns - Michals - Malevich - Crane

Vivienne Binns
Untitled
1966
gouache and felt pen on paper
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Vivienne Binns
Untitled
1966
gouache and felt pen on paper
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Vivienne Binns
Vag Dens
1967
acrylic and enamel on board
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Vivienne Binns
Repro Vag Dens
1975-76
vitreous enamel on steel
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Duane Michals
There Was Something Between Them
(series, Homage to Cavafy)
1978
gelatin silver print
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Duane Michals
The Son Came Home
(series, Homage to Cavafy)
1978
gelatin silver print
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Duane Michals
Two Friends Are Playing Cards
(series, Homage to Cavafy)
1978
gelatin silver print
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Duane Michals
When He Was A Young Man
(series, Homage to Cavafy)
1978
gelatin silver print
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Kasimir Malevich
Red Square on Black Ground
ca. 1922
oil on canvas
Museum Ludwig, Cologne

Kasimir Malevich
House under Construction
ca. 1915-16
oil on canvas
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Kasimir Malevich
A Game in Hell
1914
lithograph (book cover)
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Kasimir Malevich for Dulevo Manufactory (Soviet Union)
Cup and Saucer
ca. 1925-30
porcelain
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Walter Crane for Minton Hollins & Co. (Staffordshire)
A Little Cock Sparrow sat on a High Tree
ca. 1880
glazed ceramic tile
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Walter Crane for Minton Hollins & Co. (Staffordshire)
Jack and Jill
ca. 1880
glazed ceramic tile
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Walter Crane for Minton Hollins & Co. (Staffordshire)
The North Wind Doth Blow
ca. 1880
glazed ceramic tile
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Walter Crane for Minton Hollins & Co. (Staffordshire)
Sur le Pont d'Avignon
ca. 1880
glazed ceramic tile
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

from For the Time Being

O where is that immortal and nameless Centre from which our points of
     Definition and death are all equi-distant? Where
The well of our wish to wander, the everlasting fountain
     Of the waters of joy that our sorrow uses for tears?
O where is the garden of Being that is only known in Existence
     As the command to be never there, the sentence by which
Alephs of throbbing fact have been banished into position,
     The clock that dismisses the moment into the turbine of time?

O would I could mourn over Fate like the others, the resolute creatures,
     By seizing my chance to regret. The stone is content
With a formal anger and falls and falls; the plants are indignant
     With one dimension only and can only doubt
Whether light or darkness lies in the worse direction; and the subtler
     Exiles who try every path are satisfied
With proving that none have a goal: why must Man also acknowledge
     It is not enough to bear witness, for even protest is wrong?

Earth is cooled and fire is quenched by his unique excitement,
     All answers expire in the clench of his questioning hand,
His singular emphasis frustrates all possible order:
     Alas, his genius is wholly for envy; alas,
The vegetative sadness of lakes, the locomotive beauty
     Of choleric beasts of prey, are nearer than he
To the dreams that deprive him of sleep, the powers that compel him to idle,
     To his amorous nymphs and his sanguine athletic gods.

How can his knowledge protect his desire for truth from illusion?
     How can he wait without idols to worship, without
Their overwhelming persuasion that somewhere, over the high hill,
     Under the roots of the oak, in the depths of the sea,
Is a womb or a tomb wherein he may halt to express some attainment?
     How can he hope and not dream that his solitude
Shall disclose a vibrating flame at last and entrust him forever
     With its magic secret of how to extemporise life?

– W.H. Auden (1941-42)