Cy Twombly at Cy Twombly Gallery in Houston in front of the gallery’s largest painting, “Say Goodbye, Catullus, to the Shores of Asia Minor.”
Twombly’s work is breathtaking in person. I actually had the pleasure of viewing it at the Pre-Opening at The Modern Wing this May. It was an unbelievable experience because while we were in his exhibit Cy Twombly was directing The Art Institute on the placement of some of his sculptures. Born in the 1920’s, he didn’t seem a day over 65. It was so special to be in the same room as the artist himself and brought a sense of humanity to his poetic peonies.
Cy Twombly: The Natural World, Selected Works 2000–2007
“The distinctive practice of Cy Twombly merges drawing, painting, writing, and symbolic gesture in the pursuit of a direct, intuitive form of expression. His inimitable visual language of scrawls, drips, and denotations is tensely balanced between abstract and pictorial impulses. The more than 30 works in the Modern Wing’s Abbott Galleries inaugural exhibition speak from the artist’s enduring concern with the natural world—specifically seascape, landscape, light, and flora—themes that have become increasingly prevalent in recent years. Equal parts commanding and muscular, tentative and languorous, the new work testifies to the ongoing creative vitality of one of the greatest American artists of our time. ”
-The Art Institute of Chicago
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No Responses Yet to “cy-twombly-1-untitled_1970” Cy Twombly at Tate Modern
June 16, 2008 in Aesthetics, Art Making, The "Art World" | Tags: Cy Twombly, Guardian, painting, Serota
Twombly’s “literariness” is something that has consistently told against him, along with his fancy foreign ways and his “insinuating elegance”. But his art, as Serota acknowledges in the catalogue, has always been elusive and, for many people, even enthusiasts of contemporary art, unfathomable. Twombly himself has maintained an unusual reticence. In the mid-50s, he wrote a short statement for the Italian art journal L’Esperienza moderna: “To paint involves a certain crisis, or at least a crucial moment of sensation or release; and by crisis it should by no means be limited to a morbid state, but could just as well be one ecstatic impulse…”
A good number of his drawings, paintings and sculptures consist of little other than an inscription. “Twombly writes as if he were seeking out the meaning of the poetic words through the physical act of producing their graphic signs,” Richard Shiff has written. “The word as disembodied sign becomes the word as embodied mark, imbued with the spirit of a gesture and located in a particular place and time.”
Twombly’s has long been an art of indirection; a palimpsest of obfuscations and excisions, of rubbings out and submergings. Like Rauschenberg, who as a young man spent three weeks erasing a drawing he had acquired from Willem de Kooning (the result is a white sheet of paper bearing the faint, ghostly shadow of its former markings), Twombly, in Serota’s words, evokes rather than describes.
Nowhere is his genius for evocation – for suggesting the mood or feeling of a place or a moment – more apparent than in the set of 24 drawings he made in 1959 called Poems to the Sea. “The sea is white three-quarters of the time, just white – early morning,” Twombly told Sylvester. “The Mediterranean at least . . . is always just white, white, white. And then, even when the sun comes up, it becomes a lighter white.”
Guardian
线条抽象，颜色统一，富有韵律与动感，抽象中写意般的女性形体感觉。。。
My Heart Painted by Cy Twombly
His work gives me the pee sensation…It is so primitive, childish and wonderfully crude that I want to climb a mountain and yodel, naked.
But I won’t. Instead, Cy’s work will be my muse for this week…
