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| Robert Lazzarini Teacup 2003 porcelain, metal Wichita Art Museum, Kansas |
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| Helena van der Kraan Glass 2003 gelatin silver print Kunstmuseum, The Hague |
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| Sharon Thompson Links 2003 oil on canvas Agnes Etherington Art Centre, Kingston, Ontario |
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| Sam Cady Stem Ribbands, Molds and Dawgs with Plumb Bob Line (Lash Brothers Boat Yard) 2003 oil on canvas Farnsworth Art Museum, Rockland, Maine |
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| Roy Dowell #893 2003 acrylic on canvas Los Angeles County Museum of Art |
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| Imi Knoebel London II 2003 acrylic on aluminum Kunstmuseum, The Hague |
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| Sandow Birk Purgatorio 2003 oil and acrylic on canvas San Jose Museum of Art, California |
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| Bruce Cohen Untitled (Corner of the Studio) 2003 oil on canvas San Jose Museum of Art, California |
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| Patssi Valdez The Imaginary Garden 2003 acrylic on canvas San Jose Museum of Art, California |
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| Jaret Belliveau Mary's New Dress 2003 C-print Beaverbrook Art Gallery, Fredericton, New Brunswick |
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| Julie Dowling At Risk of Dog Bite 2003 acrylic on canvas Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide |
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| David Gordon Conrad in Arcadia (Conrad Black) 2003 acrylic on canvas Agnes Etherington Art Centre, Kingston, Ontario |
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| Johannes Kahrs Untitled (auslöschung nr. 3) 2003 oil on canvas Dallas Museum of Art |
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| Fons Haagmans Lost Highway 2003 acrylic on canvas Bonnefantenmuseum, Maastricht |
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| Collier Schorr Lives of Performers 2003 C-print Los Angeles County Museum of Art |
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| Julian Schnabel Versions of Chuck 2 2003 oil on canvas Hall Collection, Schloss Derneburg, Germany |
Casino
Only their hands are living, to the wheel attracted,
are moved, as deer trek desperately towards a creek
through the dust and scrub of a desert, or gently,
as sunflowers turn to the light,
and, as night takes up the cries of feverish children,
the cravings of lions in dens, the loves of dons,
gathers them all and remains the night, the
great room is full of their prayers.
To a last feast of isolation self-invited,
they flock, and in a rite of disbelief are joined;
from numbers all their stars are recreated,
the enchanted, the worldly, the sad.
Without, calm rivers flow among the wholly living
quite near their trysts, and mountains part them, and birds,
deep in the greens and moistures of summer,
sing towards their work.
But here no nymph comes naked to the youngest shepherd,
the fountain is deserted, the laurel will not grow,
the labyrinth is safe but endless, and broken
is Ariadne's thread,
as deeper in these hands is grooved their fortune: lucky
were few, and it is possible that none was loved,
and what was god-like in this generation
was never to be born.
– W.H. Auden (1936)