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| Robert Indiana Bang 1960 acrylic on canvas Lowe Art Museum, University of Miami |
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| Ellsworth Kelly High Yellow 1960 oil on canvas Blanton Museum of Art, Austin, Texas |
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| Franz Kline Black and White no. 2 1960 oil on canvas Blanton Museum of Art, Austin, Texas |
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| Peter Krasnow Totemic K-1 1960 oil on board McNay Art Museum, San Antonio, Texas |
-1960-gelatin-silver-print-Art-Institute-of-Chicago.jpg) |
| Sergio Larraín Untitled (Peru) 1960 gelatin silver print Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Ralph Eugene Meatyard Prescience 1960 gelatin silver print Dallas Museum of Art |
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| Hans Hofmann Cascade 1960 oil on canvas Blanton Museum of Art, Austin, Texas |
-The-Rock-1960-lithograph-Dallas-Museum-of-Art.jpg) |
| Blair Hughes-Stanton The Rock 1960 lithograph Dallas Museum of Art |
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| Robert Motherwell Two Figures 1960 oil on canvas North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh |
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| Nathan Oliveira Standing Man with Hands in Belt 1960 oil on canvas Walker Art Center, Minneapolis |
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| Max Papart Composition 1960 lithograph Wright Museum of Art, Beloit, Wisconsin |
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| David Park Head 1960 gouache on paper North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh |
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| Robert Rauschenberg Trophy II 1960 oil paint and found objects on canvas Walker Art Center, Minneapolis |
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| Richard Sargent Late Commuter 1960 tempera on board (magazine illustration) New Britain Museum of American Art, Connecticut |
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| Richard Stankiewicz Untitled XXXII 1960 welded metal Nasher Sculpture Center, Dallas |
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| James Yarnell Cemetery, New Orleans 1960 gelatin silver print Wichita Art Museum, Kansas |
from Horae Canonicae
III. SEXT
II
You need not hear what order he is giving
to know if someone has authority,
you have only to watch his mouth:
when a besieging general sees
a city wall breached by his troops,
when a bacteriologist
realizes in a flash what was wrong
with his hypothesis, when,
from a glance at the jury, the prosecutor
knows the defendant will hang,
their lips and the lines around them
relax, assuming an expression
not of simple pleasure at getting
their own sweet way but of satisfaction
at being right, an incarnation
of Fortitudo, Justicia, Nous.
You may not like them much
(who does?) but we owe them
basilicas, divas,
dictionaries, pastoral verse,
the courtesies of the city:
without these judicial mouths
(which belong for the most part
to very great scoundrels)
how squalid existence would be,
tethered for life to some hut village,
afraid of the local snake
or the local ford demon,
speaking the local patois
of some three hundred words
(think of the family squabbles and the
poison-pens, think of the inbreeding),
and, at this noon, there would be no authority
to command this death.
– W.H. Auden (1954)