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| Emil Nolde King and Fool 1906 woodcut Moderna Museet, Stockholm |
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| Emil Nolde Princess and Beggar 1906 woodcut Moderna Museet, Stockholm |
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| Emil Nolde The Large Bird 1906 woodcut Moderna Museet, Stockholm |
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| Erich Heckel Two Men at a Table 1913 woodcut Queensland Art Gallery, Brisbane |
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| Gino Severini The Dressmaker 1916 woodcut Art Institute of Chicago |
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| John Bradley Storrs Self Portrait ca. 1918 woodcut Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Gwen Raverat The Farm Pond 1919 woodcut Lowe Art Museum, University of Miami |
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| Robert Gibbings D.H. Lawrence 1921 woodcut Lowe Art Museum, University of Miami |
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| Robert Gibbings House Painter 1921 woodcut Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Robert Gibbings The Girl in the Garret 1921 woodcut Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Edwin Headley Holgate The Lumberjack ca. 1925 woodcut Art Gallery of Greater Victoria, British Columbia |
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| Herschel C. Logan Village Cemetery ca. 1925-28 woodcut Wichita Art Museum, Kansas |
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| Louis Hechenbleikner The Antiquary ca. 1930 woodcut Chrysler Museum of Art, Norfolk, Virginia |
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| Prescott Chaplin El Cargador ca. 1930 woodcut Seattle Art Museum |
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| Pierre-Antoine Gallien Untitled ca. 1930 woodcut Benton Museum of Art, Pomona College, California |
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| Pierre-Antoine Gallien Self Portrait ca. 1935 woodcut Musée d'Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris |
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| Will Barnet Early Morning 1939 woodcut Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
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| Sylvia Hahn Little Waterfall ca. 1940-50 woodcut Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto |
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| Sylvia Hahn Tree Root ca. 1940-50 woodcut Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto |
The Dunes
To have a self, even of salt and sand!
The loud, the marble-maned – at last a way
Out of its insane frothing, those white jaws
In which they were nothing, do you understand!
Now that they are no longer prey to that thing,
But for chill flushes which would come anyway
To anyone, in moonlight or a storm,
It is like a dream, it is past their remembering.
Before long they have ceased to be makeshift.
Wiry grasses keep them from blowing away,
As does a certain creeper yearning seaward
Over a dry admonitory drift.
Seen from the crest, two cities catch the light
At opposite ends of a black and white highway.
People come out here to lose things. The dunes
Permit themselves the first airs of a Site.
A flowered compact, lying too deep for tears,
Remains unsought. Yet, "We do not give away
Our secrets to all comers," say the dunes
Bridling like sphinxes at the hush of gears.
Once I think I caught them looking back.
The tide had gone far out that bright calm day
And small fish danced in death ecstatically
Upon the flashing mirror of its track.
In heaven there must be just such afternoons.
Up rose a burning couple far away.
Absolute innocence, fiery, mild. And yet
Soon even they were lost behind the dunes.
– James Merrill (1959)