It Doesn’t Mean Anything
Somewhere around 1994 I went to the MMA and saw an exhibit of some of Cy Twombly‘s collected works. I was surrounded by other arts students that poo-poo’ed the collection–people sneered and looked down at it. Around that time I was drawing nudes at weekly sessions, looking at classical structure and form, and all the ‘serious’ art student programs you would expect.
For me, that Cy Twombly exhibit was a game changer. Yeah, I knew intrinsically that I would never really operate at that level of color and shape, but DAMN. It opened up a whole new world for me. I tried different paintings and drawings in the style, but it never really clicked, and I never got enjoyment out of it. Once I started playing with a camera I started to have more fun with not representing things.