Quattro Stagioni II. Estate 1995

Editor: Standing here before Cy Twombly’s "Quattro Stagioni II. Estate," painted in 1995, the watercolor and paint create an effect of faded grandeur. The light yellows and scattered text make me think of sun-drenched ruins… but ruins filled with the buzzing, dizzying energy of summer. What leaps out at you when you see it? Curator: Oh, it throws me straight into the thick of August! Like bees droning and fig trees dripping… I see that frantic scribble and smeared pigment and, suddenly, I *feel* that lazy, hazy heat. Twombly, bless him, had a way of making paintings feel like weather. Doesn’t it almost hum with latent, languid, energy? And the drips, the smudges—are they fading memories, or a feverish sweat? What do you think of the use of text? Editor: It definitely adds to the feeling of memory. I can almost grasp snippets, like whispers carried on the breeze… are they even supposed to be legible? Curator: Probably not, but isn't it fun to try? The text isn’t there to *say* something, more to evoke a mood. It’s pure suggestion, like poetry you can’t quite decipher. This work feels so spontaneous and almost accidental, like catching a glimpse of summer, unfiltered. Editor: It's interesting how "unfinished" it seems, yet it captures summer so perfectly. It makes me rethink what a painting *needs* to do to communicate an idea effectively. Curator: Exactly! Maybe "Quattro Stagioni" has less to do with *depicting* Summer and more with capturing what Summer feels like in your bones. A blur of warmth and light, all heady and sweet.