Cy Twombly Making Past Present

Cy Twombly: Making the Past Present – A Reflection on Art and Ideas

Sometimes I see an art exhibition and think, really? Give me a break.

On the last day of the Cy Twombly exhibition at the Getty, we decided to go. It felt like something that shouldn’t be missed—a chance to see the work of a prolific, influential artist. Surely, it was going to be fantastic.

But I was not impressed. In fact, I felt upset in a way I couldn’t immediately articulate. I spoke with two guards, who admitted they didn’t like the exhibition either and seemed relieved it was ending. In contrast, a woman I chatted with in the bookstore queue loved it. Curious, I asked her, “What did you like about the exhibition?” She replied enthusiastically, “The approach, the colors, everything.” She even bought not one but two exhibition books. I thought to myself, each to their own.

Cy Twombly is one of the most prolific and influential artists of the 20th century. He is best known for his abstract works, often featuring bold brushstrokes, scribbles, and vibrant colors.

The exhibition showcased around 60 paintings, drawings, and sculptures spanning five decades of his career, from 1950 to 2010. Most of the paintings were large, with white or light beige surfaces punctuated by scattered spots of color, scribbled words, or letters. It was a well-curated presentation, complete with ancient bust sculptures, photographs, and written explanations designed to help visitors understand what inspired Twombly.

The exhibition delved into Twombly’s lifelong fascination with the ancient Mediterranean region, tracing his imaginative responses to classical texts and artifacts. Clearly, Getty’s curators made every effort to contextualize his work and highlight the interplay between the ancient and the modern.

Yet, as I moved through the galleries, something deeply troubled me. It wasn’t just that I failed to see the beauty in many of the works—it felt as though Twombly hadn’t even attempted to create something aesthetically pleasing. The exhibition seemed to prioritize the artist’s ideas and intellectual concepts over the art itself. And this, I realized, is a hallmark of conceptual art.

I found myself grappling with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I remembered being awed by Twombly’s works at the Menil Collection in Houston, where his colorful, flower-like paintings—towering from floor to ceiling—left an indelible impression on me. On the other hand, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Twombly’s works in this exhibition exemplified what frustrates me about the contemporary art world: a tendency toward what some might call the “artsy-fartsy.”

That phrase has long been used to describe art that feels overly pretentious or esoteric, and I must confess, I often find this type of art difficult to connect with. But as I stood there, pondering Twombly’s works, I realized there’s an upside to this kind of art. Its purpose is not necessarily to please but to provoke thought and stimulate discussion. In a world oversaturated with information and distractions, perhaps that’s exactly what we need.

So even though I couldn’t quite connect with Cy Twombly’s works on this particular day, I left the exhibition feeling grateful for the opportunity to engage with his art and ideas and to reflect on my own tormented mind.

As usual, on a visit to the Getty Center, I discovered a new view of the building complex that I could admire. During this trip, I noticed a block of stone that protruded from the building’s wall and resembled a magnificent sculpture—with the proviso that it was a work of nature. Moments like these remind me that beauty and meaning are where we choose to find them.

October 2022

October 2022