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拍品專文
A singular figure in the rich narrative of postwar art, Cy Twombly’s intensely personal compositions hinge upon a far-reaching exploration of literary and historical themes steeped in philosophical and mythological underpinnings that the artist continued to mine throughout his oeuvre. 10 Day Wait At Mugda continues the investigation of his ever-evolving iconography, and transforms raw materials into adventurous abstractions that seem eager to coalesce into a new visual language. Kirk Varnedoe, writing about the artist’s divergence from the overwhelming machismo of Abstract Expressionism, notes that, “[Twombly’s works] are intermittently casual, furious, self-doubling, and self-annulling—attacks against the aesthetic of painterly abstraction, from which Twombly’s mature personal style was emerging” (K. Varnedoe, Cy Twombly: A Retrospective, exh. cat., Museum of Modern Art, New York, 1994, pp. 23-24). Reveling in their indeterminacy, Twombly’s marks cavort upon the painted surface with a measure of hesitance. A line stops short of becoming a full calligraphic expression and a scumble of gray quietly fades into the background. Far from the vigorous and violent gestures of his colleagues, Twombly’s hand describes the flow of time and the intimate connection between artist and materials.
Realized during a particularly vital period in the artist’s oeuvre, 10 Day Wait At Mugda comes from a group of works that draw upon Twombly’s investigation of writing and personal history. As is typical of this series, the artist starts with a stark white canvas and then begins a delicate application of pencil marks, embellishments in wax crayon, and areas of oil paint that combine to form a visual record of the artist’s painstaking exploratory process. Enamored with the work of Leonardo da Vinci, the artist based his oeuvre around an ongoing examination of line, form, and the depiction of process. “Twombly isolated the abstraction of movement, whether at rest or in motion, and its coefficient, space-time,” Suzanne Delahanty noted while remarking on the connection between the two artists through history, “… Leonardo, whom Twombly has always admired for his passion and cool intellect, became a guide for rational inquiry. It is as if Twombly entered Leonardo’s mind to envision the affinities between natural and human process—to see the drawn line, like a natural phenomenon, unfold in space and time” (S. Delahanty, Cy Twombly, exh. cat., Institute of Contemporary Art, Philadelphia, 1975, pp. 22-24). In 10 Day Wait At Mugda, the central section of overlapping lines is given to curvilinear forms that swirl and cluster toward the left side of the composition. In the upper left, a particularly straight rectangle seems at odds with the rest of the work but helps to lift the rest of the work from being too heavy by virtue of its opposing form. Along the lower edge, in his skittering scrawl, Twombly writes “10 Days Wait at Mugda” which runs into his signature and the date. The use of color is scant in this work, giving over mostly to black and smoky hues on the white surface, but glimpses of red gleam amidst the dark lines and a ghostly pink is visible in two bulbous constructions on the left. Using varying thicknesses of line throughout, Twombly builds up layers of visual information that, while totally non-illustrative, prod at the human urge to find familiar images in abstraction.
The title of this piece is drawn from an actual experience the artist had while traveling through North Africa and the Mediterranean with his friend Robert Rauschenberg in the early 1950s. While riding through Morocco on a bus, the two came across an area called Mugda that they decided to explore. Departing their transportation, they made their way through the village and took in the town. Upon returning to the bus stop, they asked when the next bus was due only to find that another was not scheduled until ten days later. Finding themselves marooned, Twombly and Rauschenberg found a place to stay and waited for their ride. During this time, Twombly began sketches which he then referenced years later in Rome for a series of five paintings which all share the title “10 Day Wait At Mugda”. It was on this same excursion that the artist visited Italy for the first time, and he was immediately taken by the layers of ancient graffiti on the Roman ruins, something which had a deep impact on his practice. "Generally speaking my art has evolved out of the interest in symbols abstracted,” he noted, “but never the less humanistic; formal as most arts are in their archaic and classic stages, and a deeply aesthetic sense of eroded or ancient surfaces of time” (C, Twombly, quoted in: N. del Roscio, ed., Writings on Cy Twombly, p. 199). Taken with the palimpsestic nature of these ancient markings, the artist began layering words, lines, and gestures into his work to great effect.
This innate ability to combine seemingly disparate notions could be linked to the time the artist spent at the legendary Black Mountain College from 1951-2. It was there that he became involved with Abstract Expressionism and the gestural strokes which he would use as a catalyst for his mature work going forward. Twombly moved to Rome in 1957 where he began to more fully immerse himself in the mythological and historical aspects of the area while working on his own distinct style. There he began thinking of his brushwork as something akin to handwriting which could serve as a vehicle for his humanistic musings. “One may assume that Twombly’s experience of Rome, of its living architectonic and pictorial continuity, and the contact the city offered to painters of the Renaissance, opened up fundamental perceptions which were only to find concrete painterly expression in works from 1960 on, after years of personal reflection,” Heiner Bastian explained. (H. Bastian, ed., Cy Twombly Paintings Vol. I 1952-1976, Frankfurt, 1978, p. 39). Bringing together the abstract leanings of the New York School and the visible history of Rome, Twombly was able to extract a brooding energy from the powerful convergence that lingers in his compositions.
Realized during a particularly vital period in the artist’s oeuvre, 10 Day Wait At Mugda comes from a group of works that draw upon Twombly’s investigation of writing and personal history. As is typical of this series, the artist starts with a stark white canvas and then begins a delicate application of pencil marks, embellishments in wax crayon, and areas of oil paint that combine to form a visual record of the artist’s painstaking exploratory process. Enamored with the work of Leonardo da Vinci, the artist based his oeuvre around an ongoing examination of line, form, and the depiction of process. “Twombly isolated the abstraction of movement, whether at rest or in motion, and its coefficient, space-time,” Suzanne Delahanty noted while remarking on the connection between the two artists through history, “… Leonardo, whom Twombly has always admired for his passion and cool intellect, became a guide for rational inquiry. It is as if Twombly entered Leonardo’s mind to envision the affinities between natural and human process—to see the drawn line, like a natural phenomenon, unfold in space and time” (S. Delahanty, Cy Twombly, exh. cat., Institute of Contemporary Art, Philadelphia, 1975, pp. 22-24). In 10 Day Wait At Mugda, the central section of overlapping lines is given to curvilinear forms that swirl and cluster toward the left side of the composition. In the upper left, a particularly straight rectangle seems at odds with the rest of the work but helps to lift the rest of the work from being too heavy by virtue of its opposing form. Along the lower edge, in his skittering scrawl, Twombly writes “10 Days Wait at Mugda” which runs into his signature and the date. The use of color is scant in this work, giving over mostly to black and smoky hues on the white surface, but glimpses of red gleam amidst the dark lines and a ghostly pink is visible in two bulbous constructions on the left. Using varying thicknesses of line throughout, Twombly builds up layers of visual information that, while totally non-illustrative, prod at the human urge to find familiar images in abstraction.
The title of this piece is drawn from an actual experience the artist had while traveling through North Africa and the Mediterranean with his friend Robert Rauschenberg in the early 1950s. While riding through Morocco on a bus, the two came across an area called Mugda that they decided to explore. Departing their transportation, they made their way through the village and took in the town. Upon returning to the bus stop, they asked when the next bus was due only to find that another was not scheduled until ten days later. Finding themselves marooned, Twombly and Rauschenberg found a place to stay and waited for their ride. During this time, Twombly began sketches which he then referenced years later in Rome for a series of five paintings which all share the title “10 Day Wait At Mugda”. It was on this same excursion that the artist visited Italy for the first time, and he was immediately taken by the layers of ancient graffiti on the Roman ruins, something which had a deep impact on his practice. "Generally speaking my art has evolved out of the interest in symbols abstracted,” he noted, “but never the less humanistic; formal as most arts are in their archaic and classic stages, and a deeply aesthetic sense of eroded or ancient surfaces of time” (C, Twombly, quoted in: N. del Roscio, ed., Writings on Cy Twombly, p. 199). Taken with the palimpsestic nature of these ancient markings, the artist began layering words, lines, and gestures into his work to great effect.
This innate ability to combine seemingly disparate notions could be linked to the time the artist spent at the legendary Black Mountain College from 1951-2. It was there that he became involved with Abstract Expressionism and the gestural strokes which he would use as a catalyst for his mature work going forward. Twombly moved to Rome in 1957 where he began to more fully immerse himself in the mythological and historical aspects of the area while working on his own distinct style. There he began thinking of his brushwork as something akin to handwriting which could serve as a vehicle for his humanistic musings. “One may assume that Twombly’s experience of Rome, of its living architectonic and pictorial continuity, and the contact the city offered to painters of the Renaissance, opened up fundamental perceptions which were only to find concrete painterly expression in works from 1960 on, after years of personal reflection,” Heiner Bastian explained. (H. Bastian, ed., Cy Twombly Paintings Vol. I 1952-1976, Frankfurt, 1978, p. 39). Bringing together the abstract leanings of the New York School and the visible history of Rome, Twombly was able to extract a brooding energy from the powerful convergence that lingers in his compositions.