cy twombly

i've been reading kirk varnedoe's "pictures of nothing." about this twombly he says: My wife, who is an artist, said of this picture that it's so large and complex that it has its own weather. We sense that it has a kind of energy to it, a pulse like that of a cosmic nebula. And we keep reaching for analogies--weather, night sky, impulsiveness--for a vocabulary that in the end describes nothing other than this picture. We grapple with the combination of things the picture presents: with minute, intimate, and grand scale; with flatness and depth; with huge energy and vast, dissolving serenity. And we continually wind around something that never becomes any particular thing but itself, that has all the complexity and energy that only it has, and that did not exist before.

karen, all this seemed to describe one way of finding that cloudlike space you were talking about; something we reach for and hold, only for it to disappear and reform somewhere else.