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| Martin Parr The Acropolis 1992 C-print Lowe Art Museum, University of Miami |
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| Jonathan Lasker Selective Identity 1992 oil on canvas Wichita Art Museum, Kansas |
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| Robert Pengelly Patience on a Monument (formerly Remembrance Day) 1992 watercolor on paper San Jose Museum of Art, California |
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| Pravoslav Sovák Listen, Cherubino 1992 color aquatint Kunsthalle Mannheim |
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| Inez Storer El Ave del Paradiso 1992 oil on canvas San Jose Museum of Art, California |
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| Brodie Shearer Self Portrait with Welding Torch 1992 oil and acrylic on canvas Ottawa Art Gallery, Ontario |
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| James Rosenquist Gift Wrapped Doll #21 1992 oil on canvas Hall Collection, Schloss Derneburg, Germany |
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| Manuel Ocampo Burnt-Out Europe 1992 oil on canvas San Jose Museum of Art, California |
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| Leonid Lerman Evening at Volga 1992 oil paint on offset print Nasher Museum of Art, Durham, North Carolina |
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| Oleg Kudryashov Icon with Saw 1992 hand-colored etching Nasher Museum of Art, Durham, North Carolina |
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| Gladys Nilsson Big School Picture; Little Paper Mural 1992 watercolor on paper Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Emo Verkerk Cesare Pavese 1992 oil on canvas Kunstmuseum, The Hague |
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| Kathy Hooper Dark Series I 1992 acrylic on canvas New Brunswick Museum, Saint John |
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| Christian Lacroix Necktie 1992 printed silk twill Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto |
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| Charles Ray Boy 1992 painted fiberglass, textile fabric and steel Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Irving Penn IP: Photograph of Self, New York 1992 gelatin silver print Art Institute of Chicago |
In Transit
Let out where two fears intersect, a point selected
Jointly by general staffs and engineers,
In a wet land, facing rough oceans, never invaded
By Caesars or a cartesian doubt, I stand,
Pale, half asleep, inhaling its new fresh air that smells
So strongly of soil and grass, of toil and gender,
But not for long: a professional friend is at hand
Who smiling leads us indoors; we follow in file,
Obeying that fond peremptory tone reserved for those
Nervously sick and children one cannot trust,
Who might be tempted by ponds or learn some disgusting
Trick from a ragamuffin. Through modern panes
I admire a limestone hill I have no permission to climb
And the pearly clouds of a sunset that seems
Oddly early to me: maybe an ambitious lad stares back,
Dreaming of elsewhere and our godlike freedom.
Somewhere are places where we have really been, dear spaces
Of our deeds and faces, scenes we remember
As unchanging because there we changed, where shops have names,
Dogs bark in the dark at a stranger's footfall
And crops grow ripe and cattle fatten under the kind
Protection of a godling or goddessling
Whose affection has been assigned them, to heed their needs and
Plead in heaven the special case of their place.
Somewhere, too, unique for each, his frontier dividing
Past from future, reached and crossed without warning:
That bridge where an ageing destroyer takes his last salute,
In his rear all rivals fawning, in cages
Or dead, ahead a field of wrath; and that narrow pass where,
Late from a sullen childhood, a fresh creator
Yields, glowing, to a boyish rapture, wild gothic peaks above him,
Below, Italian sunshine, Italian flesh.
But here we are nowhere, unrelated to day or to Mother
Earth in love or in hate; our occupation
Leaves no trace on this place or each other who do not
Meet in its mere enclosure but are exposed
As objects for speculation, aggressive creatures
On their way to their prey but now quite docile,
Told to wait and controlled by a voice that from time to time calls
Some class of souls to foregather at the gate.
It calls me again to our plane and soon we are floating above
A possessed congested surface, a world: down there
Motives and natural processes are stirred by spring
And wrongs and graves grow greenly; slaves in quarries
Against their wills feel the will to live renewed by the song
Of a loose bird, maculate cities are spared
Through the prayers of illiterate saints, and an ancient
Feud re-opens with the debacle of a river.
– W.H. Auden (1950)