I absolutely love Cy Twombly.
He’s one of my favorite artists. I know, I know. “Scribbles! PISH POSH” But still. After seeing his work in person at the Philly Museum years ago, I’ve been in love with him. His work is just so massive, and so intense.
I mean, it looks like nothing. Like a bit of scrap paper some kid scrawled on while on the phone, right?
and then you get there in the huge room right in front of it and HOLY FUCK.
It’s amazing. And the time it must have taken. And the scale and scope of it.
You know I love the Hudson River painters, with every leaf and insect lovingly detailed in massive paintings of near-realism. But there’s something about Twombly that yanks at my heart and makes me want to go all the way back to Philly and sit in that room again and nearly cry. Say what you want about abstract art, and some of the time I will totally agree- but in this case I just can’t, I just can’t. It rips my heart in two.
