Tuesday, May 6, 2025

Ad Reinhardt

Ad Reinhardt
Untitled
1937
oil on panel
Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC


Ad Reinhardt
Number 30
1938
oil on linen
Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

Ad Reinhardt
Paper Collage
1939
collage on paper
Hirshhorn Museum, Washington DC

Ad Reinhardt
Untitled (N.Y. World's Fair)
1939
gouache on paper
Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

Ad Reinhardt
Untitled
1940
oil on board
Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC

Ad Reinhardt
Composition
1940
gouache and ink on board
Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC

Ad Reinhardt
Red and Blue Composition
1941
oil on board
Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC

Ad Reinhardt
Untitled
1946
watercolor, gouache and ink on paper
Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

Ad Reinhardt
How To Look At a Spiral
1946
collage, ink and graphite on paper
Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

Ad Reinhardt
Black and White
1947
oil on canvas
Art Institute of Chicago

Ad Reinhardt
Untitled
ca. 1950
gouache on paper
Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

Ad Reinhardt
Abstract Painting
ca. 1951-52
oil on canvas
Tate Modern, London

Ad Reinhardt
Abstract Painting, Red
1952
oil on canvas
Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

Ad Reinhardt
Abstract Painting, Blue
1953
oil on linen
Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

Ad Reinhardt
Number 17
1953
oil and tempera on linen
Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

Ad Reinhardt
FoundingFathersFollyDay
1954
collage, ink and graphite on paper
Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

Ad Reinhardt
Postcard to Betty Parsons
ca. 1960
ink on printed card
Hirshhorn Museum, Washington DC

Ad Reinhardt
Abstract Painting, Number 33
1963
oil on linen
Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

John Loengard
Ad Reinhardt
1966
gelatin silver print
Hirshhorn Museum, Washington DC

from From the Cupola

I walk the length of our Greek Revival village
from library to old blind lighthouse
Like one entranced who talks as awake she cannot
a potpourri of dead chalkpetal dialects
dead anyhow all winter
lips caulked with faded pollen and dust of cloves
I find that I can break the cipher
come to light along certain humming branches
make out not only apple blossom and sun
but perfectly the dance of darker undertones
on pavement or white wall      It is this dance I know
that cracks the pavement     I do know
Finally I reach a graden where I am to uproot
the last parsnips for my sisters' dinner
Not parsnips mastodons      But this year's greens
already frill them and they pull easily
from the soft ground      Two of the finest 
are tightly interlocked have grown that way     They lie
united in the grave of sunny air
as in their breathing living dark
I look at them a long while
mealy and soiled in one another's arms
and blind full to the ivory marrow
with tender blindness      Then I bury them
once more in memory of us
Back home      Gold skies      My basket full
Lifting it indoors I turn      The little dock
It is out there still on stilts in freezing water
It must know by now
that no one is coming after it that it must wait
for morning for next week for summer
by which time it will have silvered and splintered 
and the whitewinged boats and the bridegroom's burning sandals
will come too late

– James Merrill (1966)