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Lepanto, Cy Twombly

 Posted on January 4, 2021|No Comments on Lepanto, Cy Twombly
Cy Twombly Lepanto III

I open and close. I see the eyes. I feel heavy thick and dense lashes fluttering. Sometimes tears fall with a long smudge of mixing colours, but black persists, black keeps everything in place. Suspended strokes that move horizontally. The eyes open and close, and so this battle with sleep continues. The mascara melts, the eyes are red and straw yellow. Humans don’t have yellow eyes because they don’t have to look in the dark. The red that mixes with the yellow is the colour of fire and the fire burns. Even the sun is burning. The eyes are burning. Tears roll down the cheeks of the turquoise face. There are many eyes, and almost all of them closed. And when they are open, they are empty, red and yellow.
The eyes flutter like wings.

If they were wings, birds would have dozens of them. Wings with irregular and sparse feathers. I observe their synchronized flight. The flock forms an irregular outline in the sky, different from the “V” shape. I know that sooner or later, it will become regular. I fly among them too. I see the leader who is taking the command. They are impressive creatures with transparent bodies migrating who knows where across a cloudless sky. And suddenly shots are heard. Red strokes between their feathers are falling, leaving a yellow vortex in the air.

Who knows why the waves are not visible. The sea seems to flow downwards – narrow and elongated currents run through the picture. The ships do not cut the waters but continue as if suspended in the dense and blue fog. It is the fog that extinguishes the colour of the sea, mixes it with white until it becomes creamy and greasy. Meanwhile, the galleys advance with the strength of their arms and oars. And as they advance they fire shots from their cannons, you can see the explosions of fire and the smoke that mixes with the fog. The flames are reflected in the water, forming lines that reach other galleys from above, pierce and support them. They are heavy, like sleepy eyes that burn. They are quiet and slow. The other galleys are barely visible – they are a little behind. They go to the fastest and lightest enemy ships. They await the clash with the fleet to come, even if it is not seen yet. I see here the battle that took place in the Mediterranean a long time ago.

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