It’s so strange that today I woke up to the news that Cy, at age 83, passed away in Rome last night.  Before falling asleep I had just started and finished the chapter in John Water’s new book about his art and his life obsession with Cy.  I’ve seen Cy’s work before and I’m sure he was briefly discussed in college, but shomewhow I’ve missed my opportunity to know him well.

Seems like all signs are pointing me to Cy’s work and now I’ll make it my obsession to better understand it and learn more about him.

For starters,

a 2010 feature 032c Magazine  ran that examines an old feature Vogue did on Twombly and his home’s interior in 1966.

Twombly’s wife Tatiana stretches out in front of Hyperion (To Keats) (1962) while the artist poses in a European mode, Had Twombly crossed a class line and abandoned the proletarian role of the artist? (Photo by Horst P. Horst)

This is beautiful and all sorts of sweet.  I don’t how Yoko survived.  As my good friend Sasha said, she’s a f*cking WARRIOR.

From the New York Times:

JOHN and I are in our Dakota kitchen in the middle of the night. Three cats — Sasha, Micha and Charo — are looking up at John, who is making tea for us two.

Sasha is all white, Micha is all black. They are both gorgeous, classy Persian cats. Charo, on the other hand, is a mutt. John used to have a special love for Charo. “You’ve got a funny face, Charo!” he would say, and pat her.

“Yoko, Yoko, you’re supposed to first put the tea bags in, and then the hot water.” John took the role of the tea maker, for being English. So I gave up doing it.

It was nice to be up in the middle of the night, when there was no sound in the house, and sip the tea John would make. One night, however, John said: “I was talking to Aunt Mimi this afternoon and she says you are supposed to put the hot water in first. Then the tea bag. I could swear she taught me to put the tea bag in first, but …”

“So all this time, we were doing it wrong?”

“Yeah …”

We both cracked up. That was in 1980. Neither of us knew that it was to be the last year of our life together.

This would have been the 70th birthday year for John if only he was here. But people are not questioning if he is here or not. They just love him and are keeping him alive with their love. I’ve received notes from people in all corners of the world letting me know that they were celebrating this year to thank John for having given us so much in his 40 short years on earth.

The most important gift we received from him was not words, but deeds. He believed in Truth, and had dared to speak up. We all knew that he upset certain powerful people with it. But that was John. He couldn’t have been any other way. If he were here now, I think he would still be shouting the truth. Without the truth, there would be no way to achieve world peace.

On this day, the day he was assassinated, what I remember is the night we both cracked up drinking tea.

They say teenagers laugh at the drop of a hat. Nowadays I see many teenagers sad and angry with each other. John and I were hardly teenagers. But my memory of us is that we were a couple who laughed.

Summer reading.  Here’s a few I’ve picked up.  So far, loving the Roger Vadim book.  I’m dazzled by his three great loves with three kick ass women.  Brigitte. Catherine. Jane. Roger takes you on an incredible journey – paris in the early 60s…hanging out in cafes and meeting an unknown named Marlon Brando…sleeping with Brigitte and Ursula Andress in a tiny bed, just sleeping, mind you. awesomeness and a perfect light read for summer poolside.

The others have been waiting for me to read them for quite some time and hopefully I’ll get to it.  I find it nice to read about Marie Antoinette before bedtime…and the  Color book is a definite since it ties into school…

Bardot, Deneuve, Fonda – Roger Vadim

Marie Antoinette: The Journey – Antonia Fraser

Paris on the Potomac: The French Influence on the Architecture and Art of Washington, D.C. (Perspective On Art & Architect)

Color by Betty Edwards: A Course in Mastering the Art of Mixing Colors