 |
| Howard Mehring Untitled 1954 oil on canvas Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
-The-Pendulum-1954-acrylic-on-canvas-Anacostia-Community-Museum-Washington-DC.jpg) |
| Howard Mehring Panu - The Pendulum 1954 acrylic on canvas Anacostia Community Museum, Washington DC |
 |
| Howard Mehring Banner 1957 acrylic-on-canvas- Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
 |
| Howard Mehring Center Spread 1957 acrylic on canvas Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
 |
| Howard Mehring Summer's Edge 1959 acrylic on canvas Anacostia Community Museum, Washington DC |
 |
| Howard Mehring Untitled 1960 acrylic on canvas Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
 |
| Howard Mehring Untitled 1960 acrylic on canvas Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
 |
| Howard Mehring Pulse ca. 1960 acrylic on canvas Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
 |
| Howard Mehring Out of the Blue 1960 acrylic on canvas Anacostia Community Museum, Washington DC |
 |
| Howard Mehring Untitled 1961 acrylic on canvas Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
 |
| Howard Mehring Double Triple 1964 acrylic on canvas Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
 |
| Howard Mehring Red Meander 1965 acrylic on canvas Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
 |
| Howard Mehring Dark Star ca. 1966 acrylic on canvas Anacostia Community Museum, Washington DC |
 |
| Howard Mehring Blue, Green and Violet 1967 acrylic on canvas Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
 |
| Howard Mehring Untitled 1977 drawing Hirshhorn Museum, Washington DC |
 |
| Howard Mehring Untitled 1978 drawing Hirshhorn Museum, Washington DC |
The Parnassians
Theirs was a language within ours, a loge
Hidden by bee-stitched hangings from the herd.
The mere exchanged glance between word and word
Took easily the place, the privilege
Of utterance. Here therefore all was tact.
Pairs at first blush ill-matched, like turd and monstrance,
Tracing their cousinage through consonants,
Communed, ecstatic, through the long entr'acte.
Without our common meanings, though, that world
Would have slid headlong to apocalypse.
We'd built the Opera, changed the scenery, trod
Grapes for the bubbling flutes mild fingers twirled;
As footmen, by no eyelid's twitch betrayed
Our scorn and sound investment of their tips.
– James Merrill (1988)