How I lost my peace of mind in Paris.

Walls, ladies and gentlemen, I need more walls. Ever since I saw the Cy Twombly exhibition at Centre Pompidou, I have been brutally aware of my wall-missing existence. Large walls, I mean. Spacious. Huge rooms and high ceilings. Very high ceilings. You see, I‘ve never had a problem with not having enough space for a Picasso, the classical period in particular, the one Olga was around, I love that portrait of Olga in that armchair, so beautiful, that serene expression of hers, and she’s so much more beautiful than in real life, he must have been so very deeply in love with her, anyway, getting Olga is so minor a challenge, it’s just about money, the non-existent millions, but I could hang her anywhere, easily, she’d be great in my bedroom, what a soothing idea, makes me want to retire, have a last look at her, and happily fall into the arms of Morpheus, but these large Twombly canvases, these splendid works of art, every single detail is a work of art on its own, they’re driving me insane, where am I to hang them? Where? I am quite serious, this is not a laughing matter, this March in Paris, I have lost my peace of mind forever.

7 thoughts on “How I lost my peace of mind in Paris.

  1. I once had an entire exhibition of Twombly all to myself, before it was even hung, just as it was coming out of the crates.
    It was like a magnificent Christmas, just me opening each crate, a huge gallery with huge walls and dozens of huge paintings. It was more than 25 years ago. I still recall that weekend, moving the works around, placing them ready to hang on the Monday.
    Impossible for that to happen now. Each work worth tens of millions of $$… but then he was an artist in the shadows, not one of the big boys.
    How lucky for me.

    Liked by 3 people

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