The art world is a highly ponderous arena, and subsequently open for analysis. Here at Modern Design we pride ourselves on forming honest opinions, and when it comes to art, we occasionally - in fact invariably - disagree on certain artists, works and collections. Sporadically these opinions become so incredibly opposing; our office can become a hostile environment – so strong are the opinions a small faction of art contra-rebels break off and hang out by the coffee machine until reprimanded and brought back into line. Cy Twombly almost had this effect, so to avoid an in-house revolt, the editor decided to give the art insurgents a chance to flank the general consensus…and here it is.

Cy Scribbly. Why on earth, established octogenarian art deity that he might be, would you waste precious wall space at the Tate Modern (something thousands of unrecognised yet incredibly talented artists would give-up their deft brush hands for) with a bunch of old teenage scribble? Okay, I don’t mean representative art is necessarily always the best, but frankly, my senile great aunty has got more interesting stains on her carpet than some of Cy’s crude canvas ramblings. To flag it up as an abstract form of philosophical graffiti is an insult to aerosol wielding hoodie gangs across the UK and the decorated London Underground carriages that channel poor punters to the Tate Modern. I’m afraid the notable critiques, the ones who decide the great and the talented, have been swindled – so in effect, hats off to you Cy, you pulled it off – conned everyone and made classic fools out of some of the most revered experts on the planet. Cy Doodly, has just thrust his finger up at the British art fraternity and walked away laughing.