The introduction is a bit abrupt.

Lines dashing in shades of grey across large off-white surfaces. Is he a genius? A Naive? A slacker? It’s intimidating. One gets the feeling the work may not be as simple as it looks. It took indeed Cy Twombly two summers in a row to complete the ten paintings that compose the Fifty Days at Iliam series.


Writing comes into play, dysgraphic, almost embarrassing. Color explodes most of the time, trickles, even pukes. It feels out of control. Taking a closer look one can grasp the palimpsest, the complex layers. A letter is sticking out, the angy “A” from “Apollo”, the slimy “O” from “Autumno”. The man, who belongs to the american avant-garde has read the Antiques and lives in Italy. A line in the shape of a soft hiatus starts to materialize.

His paintings are lyrical ballads. His sculptures are gently archaic. His photographs are like haikus. Cy Twombly is, in a way, a guest in his own art; a form as powerful as it is fragile, vigorous and delicate all at a time. It’s infinitely compelling.

Visuals © Araso

Cy Twombly, an exhibition on view at the Centre Pompidou in Paris from 30.11.2016 to 24.04.2017