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| Lynne Cohen Spa 1991 gelatin silver print Ottawa Art Gallery, Ontario |
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| David Lance Goines No War 1991 lithograph (poster) Los Angeles County Museum of Art |
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| Nan Goldin Lynette and Donna at Marion's Restaurant, New York 1991 C-print Portland Museum of Art, Maine |
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| Jasper Johns Green Angel 1991 color etching San Diego Museum of Art |
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| Jeff Koons Bourgeois Bust - Jeff and Ilona 1991 marble Art Institute of Chicago |
-by-Kudisodiev-1991-acrylic-on-canvas-Nasher-Museum-of-Art-Durham-North-Carolina.jpeg) |
| Rostislav Lebedev The Bolshevic [sic] by Kudisodiev 1991 acrylic on canvas Nasher Museum of Art, Durham, North Carolina |
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| Roy Lichtenstein Modern Room 1991 lithograph, woodcut and screenprint Akron Art Museum, Ohio |
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| Manuel Neri Figure with Legs Crossed 1991 painted bronze Denver Art Museum |
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| Manuel Neri Kneeling Figure 1991 painted bronze San Jose Museum of Art, California |
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| Nicholas Nixon Jamie Watkins 1991 gelatin silver print Fralin Museum of Art, Charlottesville, Virginia |
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| Gerhard Richter Betty 1991 lithograph Dallas Museum of Art |
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| Susan Rothenberg Head and Foot 1991 cast iron Walker Art Center, Minneapolis |
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| Tomás Sánchez Second Version of Dump on the Beach 1991 acrylic on canvas NSU Art Museum, Fort Lauderdale, Florida |
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| Cindy Sherman Untitled 1991 C-print Lowe Are Museum, University of Miami |
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| Jay Steensma The Pond 1991 oil on canvas Tacoma Art Museum, Washington State |
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| Comme des Garçons (Japan) Dress 1991 polyester crepe lined with acrylic fur Denver Art Museum |
from In Praise of Limestone
Watch, then, the band of rivals as they climb up and down
Their steep stone gennels in twos and threes, at times
Arm in arm, but never, thank God, in step; or engaged
On the shady side of a square at midday in
Volatile discourse, knowing each other too well to think
There are important secrets, unable
To conceive a god whose temper tantrums are moral
And not to be pacified by a clever line
Or a good lay: for, accustomed to a stone that responds,
They have never had to veil their faces in awe
Of a crater whose blazing fury could not be fixed;
Adjusted to the local needs of valleys
Where everything can be touched or reached by walking,
Their eyes have never looked into infinite space
Through the lattice-work of a nomad's comb; born lucky,
Their legs never encountered the fungi
And insects of the jungle, the monstrous forms and lives
With which we have nothing, we like to hope, in common.
So, when one of them goes to the bad, the way his mind works
Remains comprehensible: to become a pimp
Or deal in fake jewellery or ruin a fine tenor voice
For effects that bring down the house, could happen to all
But the best and the worst of us . . .
That is why, I suppose,
The best and worst never stayed here long but sought
Immoderate soils where the beauty was not so external,
The light less public and the meaning of life
Something more than a mad camp. "Come!" cried the granite wastes,
"How evasive is your humor, how accidental
Your kindest kiss, how permanent is death." (Saints-to-be
Slipped way sighing.) "Come!" purred the clays and gravels,
"On our plains there is room for armies to drill; rivers
Wait to be tamed and slaves to construct your tomb
In the grand manner: soft as the earth is mankind and both
Need to be altered." (Intendant Caesars rose and
Left, slamming the door.) But the really reckless were fetched
By an older colder voice, the oceanic whisper:
"I am the solitude that asks and promises nothing;
That is how I shall set you free. There is no love;
There are only various envies, all of them sad."
– W.H. Auden (1948)