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Stanton Macdonald-Wright Portrait of art critic Willard Huntington Wright (also wrote mysteries under pseudonym S.S. Van Dine) 1913-14 oil on canvas National Portrait Gallery, Washington DC |
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Stanton Macdonald-Wright Conception Synchromy 1914 oil on canvas Hirshhorn Museum, Washington DC |
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Stanton Macdonald-Wright Conception Synchromy 1915 oil on canvas Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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Stanton Macdonald-Wright Oriental Synchromy in Blue-Green 1918 oil on linen Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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Stanton Macdonald-Wright Dragon Tale 1930 oil on canvas Hirshhorn Museum, Washington DC |
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Stanton Macdonald-Wright Mural for Santa Monica Library 1934-35 oil on panel (1 of 38 panels composing WPA project) Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
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Stanton Macdonald-Wright Self Portrait ca. 1951 drawing National Portrait Gallery, Washington DC |
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Stanton Macdonald-Wright Self Portrait with Squash 1951 oil on panel National Portrait Gallery, Washington DC |
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Stanton Macdonald-Wright Liaison Intime: Suite Sommeil #3 1955 oil on canvas Los Angeles County Museum of Art |
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Stanton Macdonald-Wright Raigo 1955 oil on canvas Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
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Stanton Macdonald-Wright Vers la Cime 1963 oil on panel Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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Stanton Macdonald-Wright Haiga Portfolio: Basho 1965-66 color woodblock print Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
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Stanton Macdonald-Wright Haiga Portfolio: Buson 1965-66 color woodblock print Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
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Stanton Macdonald-Wright Haiga Portfolio: Hokushi 1965-66 color woodblock print Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
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Stanton Macdonald-Wright Haiga Portfolio: Issa 1965-66 color woodblock print Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
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Stanton Macdonald-Wright Annotated Design Sketch ca. 1970 mixed media on paper Archives of American Art, Washington DC |
The House Fly
Come October, if I close my eyes,
A self till then subliminal takes flight,
Buzzing round me, settling upon the knuckle,
The lip to be explored not as in June
But with a sense verging on micromania
Of wrong, of tiny, hazy, crying wrongs
Which quite undo her – look at the zigzag totter,
Proboscis blindly tapping like a cane.
Gone? If so, only to re-alight
Or else in a stray beam resume the grand toilette
(Eggs of next year's mischief long since laid):
Unwearying strigils taken to the frayed,
Still glinting wings; the dull-red lacquer head
Lifted from its socket, turned mechanically
This way and that, like a wristwatch being wound,
As if there would always be time . . .
Downstairs in this same house one summer night,
Founding the cult, her ancestress alit
On the bare chest of Strato Mouflouzélis
Who stirred in the lamp-glow but did not wake.
To say so brings it back on every autumn
Feebler wings, and further from that Sun,
That mist-white wafer she and I partake of
Alone this afternoon, making a rite
Distinct from both the blessing and the blight.
– James Merrill (1985)