Lucian Freud

 

Reflection (Self-portrait)

by Lucian Freud, 1985

I was reading an article last night about painter Lucian Freud (1922-2011)  in the February issue of Vanity Fair (on the Ipad... kinda loving magazine reading on this device), and found the life he lived, and the art he made both incredibly inspirational, and at times somewhat unnerving. Seems, despite having some fourteen children, that his sole purpose was painting. His portraits are extraordinary, and I love that he stuck with figurative work at a time when his contemporaries were immersed in abstract expressionism. Somehow, his brushwork and paint become the living flesh and skin of those he portrayed. And I'm inspired that he kept working quite feverishly until his death last year. Seems he didn't feel like he had quite finished his life... like an unfinished painting.


He wasn't the most present of fathers to his fourteen children, and honestly, I find having so many children with so many different partners a little disturbing, but despite this large unconventional family, his sole focus was his painting. Ultimately, he made portraits of most of his children, according to the article, and I suspect those sittings deepened their relationships, but would his paintings been as expressive or would he have been as prolific if he had played a more traditional role with his family? I don't know.

One thing I took away from the article... it's interesting to note that his sitters would pose for him over hundreds of hours. Among his sitters, he had lovers, friends, and his children... seems getting to know them all was part of his process, and reminiscent, I suppose, of his grandfather's work in psychoanalysis. Thinking out loud here...  slowly making portraits, carefully over time, watching and knowing your subject... seeing how they speak, how they eat, how they move, and in some cases how they love...  now that's making a portrait... deliberately, thoughtfully.