Cy Twombly's Strawberries

Not only was American artist Cy Twombly a master with a paintbrush, conjuring abstract forms out of splatters and scrawls, and a sculptor who specialised in replicating raw and organic forms out of plaster; he was also a keen photographer, and the resulting images forge a delightful counterpoint to his main practice. This photograph he took of a handful of ripe, misshapen strawberries in the Italian city of Gaeta in 2008 is proof, if any was needed. First loved by AnOther's new online editor Natalie Rigg, it has been selected as our love of the week.

Strawberries is one of a large collection of photographs taken by the artist. Between his large-scale conceptual canvases he often stopped, it seemed, to snap at a bunch of Gerberas (as in St Barth’s, 2002) or a proud row of Tulips (as in Tulips (I), 1985). More interested in colour and shape than texture and detail, Twombly often allowed his camera to swim in and out of focus, and his works are correspondingly soft and suggestive rather than dictative.

What a neat coincidence, too, that today marks the opening of an exhibition of Cy Twombly’s photographic works at Gagosian’s Davies Street Gallery in London? The exhibition has been organised to run concurrently with a show of his painting and sculpture taking place at the sister venue, Gagosian’s New London Gallery, and the pair promise a comprehensive and cohesive twinned experience.

Here we speak to Rigg about why she Loved Twombly’s luscious strawberries, and her favourite love poem of all time.

Why did you Love Cy Twombly’s photograph of strawberries?
Because Cy Twombly and strawberries are two of my very favourite things. Together, sublime! 

If this photograph belonged to you, where would you hang it? 
In my bedroom. It's far too sensual for the kitchen and I have a big blank wall that would lend itself perfectly to the artwork. 

What’s your favourite setting for a sun-drenched summer picnic?
Dalston's Eastern Curve Garden, which is a beautiful haven of tranquility in a very busy Hackney.

Which is your favourite fruit?
A nectarine. Not too ripe and preferably served chilled.

The strawberry is sacred to Venus, the goddess of love. What’s your all-time favourite love story?
Edwin Morgan's feted Strawberries seems appropriate: 

There were never strawberries
like the ones we had
that sultry afternoon
sitting on the step
of the open french window
facing each other
your knees held in mine
the blue plates in our laps
the strawberries glistening
in the hot sunlight
we dipped them in sugar
looking at each other
not hurrying the feast
for one to come
the empty plates
laid on the stone together
with the two forks crossed
and I bent towards you
sweet in that air
in my arms
abandoned like a child
from your eager mouth
the taste of strawberries
in my memory
lean back again
let me love you
let the sun beat
on our forgetfulness
one hour of all
the heat intense
and summer lightning
on the Kilpatrick hills
let the storm wash the plates