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| Euan Uglow Miss Jonquil Alpe 1960 oil on canvas Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide |
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| Madame Grès Evening Gown 1960 silk jersey Phoenix Art Museum, Arizona |
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| Yves Saint Laurent for Dior Dress 1960 silk and cotton National Gallery of Australia, Canberra |
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| Lucie Rie Vase 1960 stoneware Art Gallery of Greater Victoria, British Columbia |
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| David Park Back of Nude 1960 gouache on paper Crocker Art Museum, Sacramento, California |
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| Carel Weight The Big Tree 1960 oil on panel Beaverbrook Art Gallery, Fredericton, New Brunswick |
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| Karel Appel Deux Têtes dans le Printemps 1960 oil on canvas Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto |
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| John Gould Sighting the Bull 1960 drawing Beaverbrook Art Gallery, Fredericton, New Brunswick |
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| Bruce McGaw Standing Figure 1960 oil on canvas Crocker Art Museum, Sacramento, California |
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| Jock Macdonald Far-off Drums 1960 oil on canvas National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa |
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| Guido Molinari Contrepoint 1960 screenprint Ottawa Art Gallery, Ontario |
-Cloudstorm-menacing-a-Small-Tree-1960-hand-colored-transfer-print-National-Gallery-of-Australia-Canberra.jpg){kind=spacer} |
| Ludwig Hirschfeld-Mack Cloudstorm menacing a Small Tree 1960 hand-colored transfer print National Gallery of Australia, Canberra |
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| Jeff Carter Picnickers, Wanda Beach 1960 gelatin silver print National Gallery of Australia, Canberra |
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| Lynn Chadwick The Watchers 1960 bronze San Diego Museum of Art |
-Figures-1960-screenprint-National-Gallery-of-Australia-Canberra.jpg) |
| Guy Grey-Smith Figures 1960 screenprint National Gallery of Australia, Canberra |
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| Morris Louis Beta Nu 1960 acrylic on canvas National Gallery of Australia, Canberra |
from The Dark Years
Will the inflamed ego attempt as before
to migrate again to her family place,
to the hanging gardens of Eros
and the moons of a magical summer?
The local train does not run any more,
the heretical roses have lost their scent,
and her Cornish Hollow of tryst is
swarming now with discourteous villains
whom Father's battered hat cannot wave away,
and the fancy-governed sequence leads us all
back to the labyrinth where either
we are found or lose ourselves for ever.
What signs ought we to make to be found, how can
we will the knowledge that we must know to will?
The waste is a suburb of prophets,
but who has seen Jesus and who only
Judas the Abyss? The rocks are big and bad,
death all too substantial in the thinning air,
learning screams in the narrow gate where
events are traded with time but cannot
tell what logic must and must not leave to fate,
or what laws we are permitted to obey:
there are no birds now, predatory
glaciers glitter in a chilly evening,
and death is probable.
– W.H. Auden (1940)