Those in the show, beginning in 1954, are flurries of impulsive line in pencil, crayon, or paint—sometimes mostly erased or overlapped with white house paint—which seem barbarically formless, yet are perversely graced with sensitive touch and texture. Like Zen koans, these drawings not only defy comprehension but stop it dead.
[…]Twombly’s best works are permanently embroiled in the present tense of their making; they would be just as fresh if created today or tomorrow.
Peter Schjeldahl, Drawing Lines, 2005
Mary Jacobus, Tate Papers Autumn 2008.
