About an hour ago, I heard the news that Lucian Freud had died, at age 88. One photograph of him that I saw in the newspaper showed him last year, holding a small fox-like dog; the New York Times slideshow includes an early painting of a woman with a kitten, fascinating and not typical of the work he did later in his career.
I've admired Freud's work for many many years. He's a consummate realistic painter, perhaps the greatest of contemporary realists, and whether one likes his subjects and approach or not, I am intoxicated with the sensuousness and possibilities of paint when I look at his work.
So, a bit pensive, I took up my pen and drew on the paper that was nearest to hand. Which I should have done a great deal more in my life, but perhaps there'll be some time to make up for that.
Being in my father's house for the past few days, I was surrounded by a little retrospective of my own artwork, and I spent some time going around and looking closely at the paintings and drawings I'd given my parents over the years. On Friday night we met some of Dad and B.'s friends, mostly octogenarians themselves, who had been invited over for drinks before going out to eat as a group. As we were leaving, one of them took me aside and said quietly, I've admired your paintings here several times. Are you doing more now? I said I hadn't painted much at all for the past fifteen years but hoped to do more. You should, and I sincerely hope you will, he said.
It isn't about painting or drawing like Lucian Freud, or anyone else, though I am enormously grateful for their examples and inspiration. It's about doing my best, and going wherever each drawing or painting (or piece of writing) takes me. About surrendering, and listening, and then moving on freely, joyfully, to the next.
The BBC obituary said that Freud "lived to paint." I don't; most of us don't, and can't, live solely to do our art, whatever it is. But he reminds me to get on with it; now is as good a time as there will ever be.
That's a lovely sketch. I, too, hope you will do more.
Posted by: NT | July 21, 2011 at 06:08 PM
Not about Freud, but I wanted to say how much I appreciated your earlier chat about Absalom, Absalom!, which (the book) I just finished reading.
Posted by: Andrea in Ottawa | July 21, 2011 at 06:19 PM
Oh no. I heard the news just now, from your blog. I'd no idea he was ill, nor so old.
I admired Freud too. I loved the fleshy weight of his figures, and what he was able to do with canvas and brush. Somehow, to me, his subjects seemed made heavy with a certain grave human love, and I can't think of many other living painters with such a gift.
Thank you for voicing that reminder.
Posted by: Siona | July 21, 2011 at 06:41 PM
A strange coincidence. I'd never heard of Lucian Freud until this Tuesday when, at the Met, Y.O. and I walked through a gallery full of Freud's nudes. It was not a permanent gallery but an exhibition, and not having seen those paintings before Y was excited, so much so that he asked the museum official in the room why they weren't publicizing it more. Perhaps now they will.
The sketch is lovely, yes.
Posted by: Parmanu | July 21, 2011 at 07:23 PM
Beth, thanks for the news and for your always thoughtful words about the late artist and his importance. The reminder to just do one's art too! I went to the Guardian (for those like me who don't have a NYT subscription) and enjoyed their article, obituary and slide show.
Posted by: Marja-Leena | July 21, 2011 at 07:52 PM
Beth, I too am sorry to see him go. As you know (from my post about after seeing his big retrospective in Paris last year) I wasn't a big admirer of his work, apart from a few examples. Not because of his subject matter, which was the same as a that of a whole museum-full of classical artists, but because of what (in my eyes) was the coldness of his palette and of his perception. While I really admire his handling of paint and his drawing, I don't see his work as sensuous at all. And I don't mean that I look for sentimentality - not in the least (I don't like Renoir as I find him too sweet!). But Freud seems to me to possess pure skill without...um...without...? Not sure what the right word is so I'll leave a blank.
However, thank goodness for artists like him, obsessed, 100 % dedicated, with the energy and egoism to keep at it for a lifetime. I wish I had even a quarter of that dedication!
Posted by: Natalie | July 22, 2011 at 09:38 AM
Nice tribute to him! Interesting to see Natalie's take on his work as well.
And a lovely story about the elderly friend... Going joyfully on is good.
Posted by: marly youmans | July 22, 2011 at 10:22 AM