This book by Nela Pavlouskova covers Cy Twombly's artistic production between the ages of 75 and 83 when he succumbed to cancer and heart problems, and is a testament to his creative curiosity even as he approached death. There seemed to be little slowing down as his artistic voice remained clear and determined amidst the seeming chaos his imagery suggested. With the exception of the Lourve ceiling (for the Hall of Bronzes), a very graphic bit of mostly "Giotto blue", hard-edged circular motifs, and a list of great Hellenic sculptors, his work has been a fount of gestural illumination within a profound awareness of transience and decay. An earlier painting aptly titled "Analysis of the Rose as Sentimental Despair" (1985) sums up the dualities he grappled with as a maker of images without ever falling into illustration or cliche. The distress and doubt of those creations most certainly kept his paintings resonant with meaning, an expressive physicality, and the poetry of line.
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Saturday, June 13, 2015
Ornette Coleman was the rare example of peripatetic artist as visionary whose music was informed by social and political change, and whose sonic materials went well beyond accepted forms of jazz. He pioneered the use of dissonance and impulsively spontaneous forms on FREE JAZZ (1960), a nearly Stravinsky-esque take on orchestral music with SKIES OF AMERICA (1972), and rock music with explosive mind/body syntax on DANCING IN YOUR HEAD (1976). His spontaneous improvisational bursts of alto sax (and other instruments, as he was a multi-instrumentalist) were informed by a tireless intelligence and a willingness to embrace seemingly formless "noise" and quirky rhythmic shapes, as well as bracing harmonic abstraction (his concept of "harmolodics"). Just jump in at any point in his vast catalogue and listen with new ears, even now
Monday, June 8, 2015
This may indeed be the state these panels remain in, even as questions muddle the idea of completion. Any reference to the outside world should be considered accidental, as it can be just as servile to be a poet as it is to be a contortionist.