Great Works: That Which I Should Have Done, I Did not Do, 1998 (36cm by 37cm by 27.5cm), Cy Twombly
Friday 08 July 2011
Cy Twombly, who died this week at the age of 83, is better known for his painting than his sculptures. Indeed he is hardly known for his sculptures at all. Squiggly lines across the canvas, with words, extracts of poetry and the paint smeared on by finger, that is what he is known and admired for. And yet he pursued sculpture through most of his working life. And it shows, even more than his two-dimensional work, the wit, the literary references and the sense of the past which made him such a creative and evolving artist.
That Which I Should Have Done, I Did Not Do, from 1998 and now on display for the first time ever at the Dulwich Picture Gallery exhibition of his work set against that of his hero, Nicolas Poussin, is a case in point. It's a work combining many materials – velvet, wood, stone, bronze, brass and metal screws – and even more allusions. The base is a wood box covered in faded purple velvet. It supports a stained stone on which is placed a bronze rose. On the base is the legend that gives the piece its title.
The overall intention, not least the memorial plaque but also the use of bronze and supporting base, is clearly to mimic the sense of the memorial. And in that sense the piece can be interpreted precisely as that. The rose is the symbol of beauty that fades but it is metamorphosed into permanence by its transfiguration into bronze, just as in the memorial casts of the dead in previous centuries. The stone is the basic material of the mausoleum, but it is also given life by the stain and corrupting smear upon it. A man who chose to live in Italy for most of his life and knew intimately their classical remains and funeral art, Twombly also liked to subvert it by place the sepulchral against the mundane.
The legend could refer to the artist himself, the work an illustration of just how short he felt he had fallen in trying to achieve the art he wanted. It is actually taken from an Ivan Albright painting in the Art Institute of Chicago, which Twombly knew. But it also contains a nod, and a riposte, to Poussin's most famous dictum: "Je n'ai rien négligé" ("I have neglected nothing."). Poussin was the artist of the precisely prepared, the perfect detail. Twombly was a creator of the spontaneous, the smudged, the questions left open.
You can over-interpret works such as these. It may be interesting to know that the bronze rose is cast from a plastic rose, a form he used in a number of his sculptures, but it doesn't necessarily aid your appreciation. Yet in Twombly's case, there is a deliberate playing with audience expectation and an intentional ambiguity of meaning, which owes something to his early enthusiasm for the art of Paul Klee but also an influence of surrealism. Twombly is usually cast as an abstract artist, a friend of Robert Rauschenberg and Jasper Johns. In reality, although close friends with these and other artists of the New York Abstract School, he deliberately diverged from their ambitions of pure abstraction in colour to introduce drawing, words and different materials. He practiced free-hand drawing at night when he could not see where the line was going. He sat on the shoulders of an assistant so that he could draw continuous lines across huge canvases.
His ambition was huge. He wanted to gather in past and present, literature and painting, classicism and unconscious creation all together. But he sought to do so by making his works, even the largest, deliberately unmonumental: by playing with the line, by undercutting the force of the paint with the delicacy of pencil and confusing the abstract with words from his favourite poems. Always he sought to give his works a sense of the fragile, the indeterminate and the unresolved – in other words, what makes us human.
He kept this particular work in his studio for over a dozen years. Whether he intended it as his epitaph, it does describe his life – both an artistic career worked against the grain of his times and a cheerful admission of the gap between human endeavour and its fulfilment.
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Edwin Parker "Cy" Twombly, 1928-2011, was one of the outstanding figures of American post-war art, famous for introducing pencil drawing, words and literary references into abstract art and for painting vast canvases. A devotee of classical art and literature, he spent most of his life in Italy.
Game of Thrones
Arts & Ents blogs
- 1 Three-year-old ultra-Orthodox Jewish children told 'the non-Jews' are 'evil' in worksheet produced by London school
- 2 Moscow voted the world's unfriendliest city
- 3 The excuses your boss is most likely to believe when you call in sick
- 4 I'm pansexual – here are the five biggest misconceptions about my sexuality
- 5 More than 11,000 Icelanders offer to house Syrian refugees to help European crisis
The real reason Eddie Redmayne was cast as a trans woman in The Danish Girl
JK Rowling announces Harry Potter's son is starting at Hogwarts
Idris Elba is ‘too street’ to play 007, says James Bond author
Loose Women poll asking if rape is 'ever a woman's fault' sparks backlash
Akram Khan: Choreographer says dance is 'as important as maths and being a doctor'
Climate change: 2015 will be the hottest year on record 'by a mile', experts say
Jeremy Corbyn calls Osama bin Laden's killing a 'tragedy' - but was it taken out of context?
If these extraordinarily powerful images of a dead Syrian child washed up on a beach don’t change Europe’s attitude to refugees, what will?
Tony Blair attacks Jeremy Corbyn's 'Alice In Wonderland' politics
Theresa May says migrants should be banned from entering the UK unless they have jobs lined up
If you're not already angry about the refugee crisis, here's a history lesson to remind you why you really should be