Farewell Cy Twombly
In 2001 I took a frustrating and ultimately lackluster course in the Philosophy of Art. I vacationed in Germany where my brother and I fought over my understanding of Heidegger and the reality of terms like “mathematically sublime.” In his most angry moment he pointed at the scribbles on the wall and dared me to tell him why they meant anything. In that moment I had a revelation. For the first time I noticed the works of an artist I had seen several times before. I to this day can’t tell you why, but something just makes me absolutely adore Cy Twombly.
If I had to guess, it was a moment of meta appreciation. He showed me just how infinite the world of art is, and how small and stupid I am to dare comprehend it. Yet it’s something I’m honored to dare every single day.
