In 2015, a painting that looks like a child’s scribbles in crayon sold for $70.5 million at auction, making it one of the most expensive artworks ever sold. The buyer paid more for what appears to be random marks on canvas than most people will earn in multiple lifetimes. I’m Oleg G. from Art Explained Simply & Quickly, and today we’re diving into the mysterious world of Cy Twombly – an artist whose seemingly chaotic scrawls and scratches have commanded astronomical prices while dividing the art world between those who see profound genius and those who see the emperor’s new clothes.
This isn’t just about one expensive painting. Twombly’s entire career challenges our fundamental assumptions about what art should look like, how it should be made, and what makes something worth millions of dollars. By the time you finish this video, you’ll understand why these ‘scribbles’ represent one of the most radical artistic achievements of the 20th century – or why some people think they represent everything wrong with the contemporary art market.
Cy Twombly’s paintings assault every expectation we have about serious art. There are no carefully rendered figures, no masterful displays of technical skill, no obvious beauty in any traditional sense. Instead, we see what appears to be hasty marks, dripped paint, scratched surfaces, and writing that looks like someone learning to hold a pencil. The immediate reaction of most viewers is either complete bewilderment or outright dismissal.
But let’s examine what we’re actually looking at when we encounter a Twombly painting. Take his famous ‘Untitled (New York City)’ from 1968 – the work that sold for $70.5 million. The canvas is dominated by looping, repetitive marks that cascade across the surface like handwriting practice gone wild. There are areas of intense scribbling, sections of more controlled line-making, and passages where the marks seem to dissolve into pure gesture. The overall effect is simultaneously frantic and meditative, chaotic and rhythmic.
The scale of these works is crucial to understanding their impact. Many of Twombly’s paintings are enormous – ten feet wide or larger. Standing before them, you’re not just looking at marks on canvas; you’re enveloped by the physical energy of their creation. Every gesture becomes magnified, every tremor of the artist’s hand amplified into architectural scale. The ‘scribbles’ transform from intimate marks into environmental experiences.
To understand why these works command such prices and critical acclaim, we need to grasp what Twombly was actually trying to achieve. Born in Virginia in 1928, he came of age during the height of Abstract Expressionism, when artists like Jackson Pollock and Willem de Kooning were revolutionizing painting through gestural abstraction. But where those artists maintained some connection to traditional painting techniques, Twombly went further – he abandoned virtually every conventional approach to making art.
Twombly’s marks reference multiple traditions simultaneously. They evoke ancient graffiti scratched into Roman walls, automatic writing from Surrealist experiments, children’s drawings, mathematical equations, poetry, and pure abstract gesture. This multiplicity of references creates paintings that operate on numerous levels of meaning simultaneously. What looks like random scribbling actually draws from the entire history of human mark-making.
The literary dimension of Twombly’s work distinguishes it from other forms of abstract art. Many of his paintings include fragments of text – classical references, poetry quotes, mythological names. But this text isn’t meant to be read in any traditional sense. Instead, it functions as visual element that carries emotional and intellectual weight without necessarily communicating specific information. The boundary between writing and drawing dissolves completely.
Consider his ‘Fifty Days at Iliam’ series from 1978, inspired by Homer’s Iliad. These ten massive paintings don’t illustrate the epic poem but rather embody its emotional landscape through pure abstraction. The violent scratches and aggressive marks evoke the brutal warfare described in Homer’s text, while gentler passages suggest moments of beauty and heroism. Twombly translates literary experience into visual sensation without resort to narrative representation.
The technique itself reveals sophisticated understanding of materials and process. Despite their appearance of spontaneity, these works are carefully constructed through layers of drawing, painting, and surface manipulation. Twombly often worked with house paint, crayons, pencils, and other non-traditional materials, creating surfaces that record every stage of their creation. The apparent casualness masks rigorous artistic discipline.
The temporal aspect of Twombly’s work deserves special attention. Unlike traditional paintings that present completed images, these works record time passing. You can follow the artist’s movements across the canvas, sense the speed and pressure of different marks, feel the rhythm of repetitive gestures. The paintings become performances frozen in time, preserving the energy and duration of their creation.
The color in Twombly’s work operates differently than in traditional painting. Rather than modeling form or creating illusion, color functions expressively and symbolically. The whites suggest paper, walls, classical architecture. The reds evoke blood, passion, violence. The blacks create weight and drama. But these colors aren’t applied systematically – they emerge from the process of mark-making, appearing where gesture and material converge.
The influence of classical antiquity permeates Twombly’s work in ways that aren’t immediately obvious. Having lived in Italy for much of his career, he was surrounded by ancient art, architecture, and literature. But rather than copying classical forms, he absorbed their emotional and intellectual content, translating it into contemporary visual language. His scribbles become modern hieroglyphs, carrying cultural memory in abstract form.
The critical response to Twombly’s work has always been polarized. Supporters see revolutionary expansion of painting’s possibilities, profound engagement with cultural history, and sophisticated exploration of mark-making as language. Detractors see pretentious decoration, lack of technical skill, and artwork that could be created by anyone with access to art supplies.
The market response tells its own story. Twombly’s prices have climbed steadily since the 1980s, reaching astronomical levels in recent decades. The $70.5 million sale in 2015 reflected not just speculation but genuine recognition of his historical importance. Museums worldwide compete to acquire his works, and major retrospectives draw huge crowds. The market has definitively answered questions about his significance, even if individual viewers remain divided.
But what drives these extraordinary prices beyond mere speculation? Twombly’s paintings represent something genuinely new in art history – a form of abstraction that incorporates rather than rejects cultural content. While other abstract artists moved away from literary and historical references, Twombly found ways to include them without resorting to illustration. This achievement required decades of experimentation and extraordinary cultural sophistication.
The physical presence of these works contributes to their market value. Photographs can’t capture their scale, texture, or material complexity. Standing before a major Twombly requires physical engagement – you need to move around it, step closer and farther away, allow your eye to follow different gestural paths across the surface. This experiential quality makes them particularly suitable for museum presentation and private collection.
The institutional recognition has been extraordinary. Major museums including the Museum of Modern Art, the Philadelphia Museum of Art, and the Centre Pompidou have devoted significant resources to acquiring and exhibiting Twombly’s work. The Cy Twombly Museum in Houston, opened in 1995, provides permanent space for experiencing these works in optimal conditions. This institutional support both reflects and reinforces market confidence.
Contemporary artists continue to wrestle with Twombly’s legacy. His expansion of what painting could include – text, everyday materials, gestural freedom – influenced generations of artists working in various media. From Christopher Wool’s text-based paintings to Julie Mehretu‘s complex layered abstractions, artists continue exploring territory that Twombly first mapped.
The authentication challenges surrounding Twombly’s work reveal interesting questions about artistic intention and market value. Because his techniques appear simple, forgeries are relatively common. But experts can distinguish authentic works through subtle qualities of gesture, material handling, and compositional sophistication that aren’t immediately apparent to casual observers. The market’s ability to make these distinctions suggests deeper appreciation than surface appearance might indicate.
The relationship between Twombly’s work and various art historical movements reveals his unique position. While often associated with Neo-Expressionism or Post-Minimalism, his work doesn’t fit neatly into any category. This resistance to classification has probably contributed to both critical interest and market success – works that establish new categories often become more valuable than those that fit existing ones.
The question of accessibility remains contentious. Twombly’s supporters argue that his work connects directly with fundamental human experiences – the impulse to make marks, the integration of image and text, the expression of emotion through gesture. Critics maintain that without extensive art historical knowledge, these works remain incomprehensible to general audiences.
The contemporary relevance of Twombly’s approach becomes clear when considering digital culture’s impact on visual communication. In an age of keyboards and screens, the physical act of making marks by hand carries different meaning than it did in previous eras. Twombly’s emphasis on gesture, materiality, and the trace of human movement feels both nostalgic and prophetic.
The preservation challenges facing Twombly’s work reflect his unconventional materials and techniques. House paint ages differently than traditional art materials. Crayon marks can smudge or fade. The surface manipulations that create textural interest also create conservation problems. Museums investing millions in these works must also invest in specialized conservation expertise.
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What’s your honest reaction to Twombly’s scribbles? Do you see profound artistic achievement or expensive decoration? How do you think future generations will view these works? Share your thoughts in the comments below – your perspective on this controversial artist contributes to ongoing debates about value, meaning, and artistic innovation.
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