Untitled Part VIII 1988

Cy Twombly made this untitled painting with luscious strokes of green and black. I wonder how it came into being? I imagine him circling around the canvas, the painting emerging through layers, maybe starting dark and then shifting to light, searching for form through feeling. You know, the funny thing about painting is that the surface ends up holding so much history. I bet he was thinking about nature here, maybe water lilies, or a dark and dreamy forest? Look at how the paint drips, like rain or tears. Twombly lets it all hang out, embracing a kind of messy vulnerability that’s so him. He really was one of a kind, but you can feel the echoes of other painters in his work, the way he channels a kind of raw energy, like Pollock or de Kooning, and yet, he’s totally doing his own thing. It’s like they’re all in this ongoing conversation, inspiring each other from across time. Painting is a form of expression, always a bit ambiguous, allowing for endless interpretations.