Vital Records

WHEN THE enemies of abstraction, often referred to as the Philistines, think of Crazy Modern Painting, the kind a six-year-old could make, the kind created by hirsute, semi-naked beatniks intoning mantras and pitching buckets of pigment at a wall, they are envisaging the works of Cy Twombly. Mr. Twombly’s art, currently enjoying full-dress treatment at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, is part of a long modernist tradition—including Van Gogh, Klee, and Pollock—that rebels against the glints, digitalized accuracy of modern times by courting randomness and spontaneity of the “everything but the kitchen sink” variety.

Art critics have never quite known what to make of Mr. Twombly. Though always appreciated—despite curator Kirk Varnedoe’s predictable efforts to romanticize him as an outcast—Mr. Twombly seems to have missed every stylistic boat that came his way. Too jazzy and allusive to be a true partner in the New York School, he was too serious for Pop Art, too impassioned for Minimalism, and too old-fashioned for Postmodernism.

JG

About the Author

James Gardner

WHEN THE enemies of abstraction, often referred to as the Philistines, think of Crazy Modern Painting, the kind a six-year-old could make, the kind created by hirsute, semi-naked beatniks intoning mantras and pitching buckets of pigment at a wall, they are envisaging the works of Cy Twombly. Mr. Twombly’s art, currently enjoying full-dress treatment at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, is part of a long modernist tradition—including Van Gogh, Klee, and Pollock—that rebels against the glints, digitalized accuracy of modern times by courting randomness and spontaneity of the “everything but the kitchen sink” variety.

Art critics have never quite known what to make of Mr. Twombly. Though always appreciated—despite curator Kirk Varnedoe’s predictable efforts to romanticize him as an outcast—Mr. Twombly seems to have missed every stylistic boat that came his way. Too jazzy and allusive to be a true partner in the New York School, he was too serious for Pop Art, too impassioned for Minimalism, and too old-fashioned for Postmodernism.