
On the Threshold of Liberty
A cannon points across a room whose walls are panelled with samples of the world: sky, wood grain, fire, bells, a woman's torso.

A cannon points across a room whose walls are panelled with samples of the world: sky, wood grain, fire, bells, a woman's torso.

One enormous eye with a cloudy sky for an iris. Whether it is looking out or reflecting back is the question.

O'Keeffe collected sun-bleached bones off the desert and hung this one in the sky over the hills, with a single white hollyhock beside it.

Van Gogh loved the cypress and compared it to an Egyptian obelisk, then set one flaming up the right side of a Provençal field.

They called him One-Corner Ma. A scholar and a willow occupy one corner and the rest of the silk is left as air.

Three paths run into the wheat and none of them go anywhere. Painted at Auvers in his last weeks, and read too neatly ever since.

The two gods hurtle in from opposite edges and Sotatsu leaves the whole middle empty, so the bare gold reads as sky.

El Greco moved the cathedral tower off its real site for the sake of the composition and lit the whole city with a green storm.

Vermeer painted his own city from across the harbor, almost his only townscape. Proust called it the most beautiful painting in the world.

Van Gogh painted the churning sky and its eleven stars from a window of the asylum at Saint-Rémy, partly from memory.