As Randy Kennedy's obituary on the front page of the New York Times today repeatedly points out, the critics attacked Cy Twombly's doodly paintings for years and years. People who didn't care for the Twombly mythos, such as yours truly, suspected everything about him. Putting it sort of harshly, Twombly was a no-talent elitist closet case who shamelessly borrowed high cultural references from Homer to Cavafy to justify ugly undisciplined blobs of house paint gagging the senses for mural-sized stretches of canvas which mindless idiots, hiding behind the loose skirts of Twombly's pretentions, overpaid for, making the artist superrich and amplifying his phony, grandiose indulgences.
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