Thursday, September 12, 2024

Made in 2008

Vincent Fecteau
Untitled
2008
painted papier-mâché
Art Institute of Chicago

Toots Zynsky
Vellutino
2008
glass
Wichita Art Museum, Kansas

Vera Greenwood
Big (Dead) Bird
2008
digital C-print
Ottawa Art Gallery, Ontario

Karl Lagerfeld for Chanel
Evening Gown and Bolero
2008
sequined silk and silk tulle
National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne

Carrie Mae Weems
Untitled
2008
gelatin silver print
NSU Art Museum, Fort Lauderdale, Florida

Barbara Kruger
Untitled
2008
C-print
NSU Art Museum, Fort Lauderdale, Florida

Jack Bishop
Cash + Carry
2008
oil on canvas
Beaverbrook Art Gallery, Fredericton, New Brunswick

Marlene Dumas
For Whom the Bell Tolls
2008
oil on canvas
Dallas Museum of Art

Lawrence Finn
The Theological Basis of Colonial Genocide
2008
linocut
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

Koos Breukel
Lucian Freud
2008
pigment print
Kunstmuseum, The Hague

Chantal Joffe
Kristen
2008
oil on board
NSU Art Museum, Fort Lauderdale, Florida

Max Hayslette
Corbusier in Paris, 1933
2008
oil on canvas
Huntington Museum of Art, Huntington, West Virginia

Sam Gilliam
Destiny
2008
screenprint
Delaware Art Museum, Wilmington

Eleanor Lindsay-Fynn
Come
(series, Colour Me In)
2008
C-print
Beaverbrook Art Gallery, Fredericton, New Brunswick

Hellen van Meene
Untitled #0321
2008
C-print
McNay Art Museum, San Antonio, Texas

Lili Holzer-Glier
Double M Rodeo, Ballston Spa, New York
2008
C-print
Loeb Art Center, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, New York

Schoolchildren

Here are all the captivities, the cells are as real,
but these are unlike the prisoners we know,
who are outraged or pining or wittily resigned
     or just wish all away.

For these dissent so little, so nearly content
with the dumb play of dogs, with licking and rushing;
the bars of love are so strong, their conspiracies
     weak like the vows of drunkards. 

Indeed, their strangeness is difficult to watch:
the condemned see only the fallacious angel of a vision,
so little effort lies behind their smiling,
     the beast of vocation is afraid.

But watch them, set against our size and timing
their almost neuter, their slightly awkward perfection;
for the sex is there, the broken bootlace is broken:
     the professor's dream is not true. 

Yet the tyranny is so easy. An improper word
scribbled upon a fountain, is that all the rebellion?
A storm of tears wept in a corner, are these
     the seeds of a new life?

– W.H. Auden (1937)