“I swear if I had to do this over again, I would just do the paintings and never show them,” [Twombly] said in a 1994 profile in Vogue. “I was brought up to think you don’t talk about yourself. I hate all this. Why should I have to talk about the paintings. I do them, isn’t that enough?”…
“A bird seems to have passed through the impasto with cream-colored screams and bitter claw-marks,” is how the poet and critic Frank O’Hara described the early works. They invite not just admiration but ardor. A woman once took off her clothes and danced naked in front of them; another kissed an all-white panel, leaving a bright lipstick mark (“a rape,” the curator fumed).
(Parul Sehgal, “‘Chalk: The Art and Erasure of Cy Twombly’ Hunts for Big — and Elusive — Game,” NYTimes, 11-6-18)
(c) 2018 JMN.