Gretchen P.
Yelp
Remember when you were a child, and you looked at your box of 64 crayons, looked at the coloring book that had been placed in front of you, then looked at the huge canvases surrounding you? You picked your FAVORITE colors, snuck over to one such "canvas," and realized how liberating large expansive circular marks on the wall could be. Your wall, your color, your soul. I was three, so the yelling fell to the wayside. I had far more important thoughts at the time than to regard a yelling adult. Art and the me-ness of me.
I fear* if you never performed this act of expression, you may not fully understand what I see when I look at Cy Twombly's installation. Or perhaps you just can't grasp conceptional art or abstract thought.
To me, this piece is the stages of art from young person until they are a full blown artist. Walk with me for a second around the museum, I'll explain.
I like to think of the anteroom, the room through the second set of doors, as a summary. Almost like reading a tiny blurb about a book in a newspaper or some such advertising media. I tend to just walk through it briefly into the center room.
The center of the piece is a room that I consider the nucleus. The beginning. It looks like a school room with chalkboards. Perhaps someone has had to write "I will not [blank]" one too many times. Here it's just looping scribbles. Repetitive and a bit angry. No words, just the concept.
I leave this room and walk clockwise (to the right). Think of a kid, just realizing that they have a voice, and want, no...need, to express it. Not much to look at, just a concept to meditate. As you walk through the rooms, it seems to me that the kid picks up language and incorporates it into the wall sketches. Some are angry (think preteen angst), some are playful.
When I reach the halfway point, I feel like I'm looking at a high school student's mind/sketches/art. It's as if I've stumbled across their melodramatic journal, also reinforced with the angrily depressed writing above each piece.
Moving into the green room, I think of a series one would have to explore in college. It's more focused, yet has moved into a bit of duality.
Finally, the last room (the one with the benches and the paintings along one wall) makes me feel like I'm looking at a thesis for the entire project. The best place to take it all in, is from the doorway of the green room. It just seems so expansive there. It feels like a presentation, especially with the benches.
No matter how enlightened or nonplussed I am with the current exhibits at the Menil, I always leave this piece uplifted. The space is gorgeous with wide planked beech colored floors and concrete walls. The light is warming. It's really a beautiful space.
*Then again, I am an artist, which affords me the title of "snob."