Cy Twombly in Downtown Indy

The textures and muted shades of concrete and brick

on a downtown building reminded me 

of Cy Twombly drawings. For whatever reason,

I can gaze at the artist's drawings for long periods of time,

lost in the lines and scratches evoking long-lost

civilizations and mythologies.

The rebar emerging from the concrete walls 

of this old building, and the graffiti below seemed 

to echo some of Twombly's interests. 

I stood there a good while, gazing at the wall, 

its textures, and subtle changes in tone. 

In a time when every imperfection is screeded

over by a coating of scratchy taupe stucco,

this wall was a visual delight.

Cy Twombly. Untitled. 1964/84. Oil stick, wax crayon, and
graphite on canvas. 80-1/2 x 98-1/4 ins.  Whitney Museum of Art

Art in Speedway: Cy Twombly

Cy Twombly died earlier this year, a fact which makes me sad 

because I'd intended to write him, to tell him how much I enjoy 

his scratchy drawings and his big, splotchy paintings.

His work makes me smile to see how the marks exist on

the page, apparently just for their own sake, defining the space

in which they live, supporting each other.

In spite of their titles, they don't portray things so much 

as they are just themselves, dancing across the page.