I confess to more than a little snobbery when I was in art school. I wasn’t a snob about status or money, because those things seemed far too pedestrian to me. I was a snob about work. I was immensely impressed by craft and labor. This is not to say that I didn’t appreciate conceptualism, because I absolutely did. I just expected to see it — to have some tangible proof of the time and suffering inherent in the birth of an idea.
I was a naive idiot, and is there anything worse than a stupid snob?
I scoffed at Cy Twombly’s work (all those dots and scribbles — I could make that in my sleep!). But if I am honest with myself, I didn’t like his work because I didn’t understand it. I couldn’t discern any method to his art or craft whatsoever.
It’s been eight years since I finished school, and the art world was different back then. Art was about something — your gender, your home, your race, your pet chickens. What didn’t really matter, but there damn well better be a metaphorical SOMETHING in there somewhere.
And so, as a young photographer I was quite sure Twombly’s work was outdated, superficial, and self absorbed.
After all, photography in the late twentieth century threatened old school gestural painters like Twombly much in the same way photography threatened painting back in the early nineteenth century, leading Paul Delaroche to utter most famously, “Painting is dead.”
And after all, Cy Twombly lived in relative obscurity for decades — a recluse doing his own thing off the coast of Italy. An irrelevant person of little interest. At least that’s what I thought.
So it’s really rather funny that Twombly is undeniably popular now; it’s funny that it has become such a fad to scribble all over a canvas and call it Art with a capital A.
But the difference between Twombly and all the trendsters, the thing that I did not understand about his work when I was in school, the thing that perhaps most people were too jaded and eager to dismiss about him when he first started painting amidst all the splashy ab ex guys and minimalists years and years ago, is intent. Or INTENT, rather. Yes, with capital letters. Purpose is the key.
And to make that appear effortless is the mark of a virtuoso.
If you doubt that, read his own words regarding his work: “It does not illustrate. It is the sensation of its own realization.”
Spoken like a man well versed in the wisdom of the classics. I hope it’s not too late for me to learn to follow suit.
Rest in peace Cy Twombly.
[NY Times Arts Beat, Photos of Cy Twombly's studio by Francois Halard]
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what a beautiful and smart and original tribute.
art is always subjective,…art in general..and i fear sometimes that schools for such things can fuck up an innate sense of understanding for what is naturally within us.
our eyes should be a direct beacon of our heart and instead so often we are led too easily by the opinions of others.
“it’s funny that it has become such a fad to scribble all over a canvas and call it Art with a capital A.”
Or blobs of paint and hit it with a squirt gun.
P.S. This tribute is why DC is one of the best blogs out there.
I love your art nerdery. Cy smiles from somewhere…
“the sensation of its own realization” Love that. And well said, as usual.
I love this post. I couldn’t have said any of this if I tried, yet it is everything I feel. I was so dumb in art school that I never understand half the things I am so grateful to slowly understand now.
Thanks for such an amazing little essay.
Incredible tribute.
what a thoughtful and intelligent post on a great artist (10 billion times better than my own shallow post about twombly, which basically said “i like his scribbles because they are pretty”).
my respect for you just builds, lady!
Great post. Very well written. Kudos.
Always truthful, always informative, always beautiful.
Thanks, Erin
my comments won’t post!! wtf??
OK — now here’s what I want to say:
You posts are always honest, always informative and always beautiful.
Thanks, Erin.
Simply put: love this. thank you.
What beautiful words. I love this Erin. You are so thoughtful and articulate.
What a beautiful tribute. What a great way to reach the conclusion.
And it is never late for anyone to learn and to grow, which is obviously something you are doing.
Ohhhh. Captured so well and written like a pro. Well done my friend.
I like his scribbles.
xoxo
