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“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.”
— Gilda Radner
“A painter must think of everything he sees as being there entirely for his own use and pleasure. The artist who tries to serve nature is only an executive artist. And, since the model he so faithfully copies is not going to be hung up next to the picture, since the picture is going to be there on its own, it is of no interest whether it is an accurate copy of the model. Whether it will convince or not depends entirely on what it is in itself, what is there to be seen.”
– Lucian Freud
FORMAL OBITUARIES:
BBC News > Obituary: Lucian Freud
Bloomberg > Lucian Freud, Painter Who Stayed Loyal to Realism, Dies in U.K. at Age 88 by Laurence Arnold
CBC News > British artist Lucian Freud dies at 88
Daily Mail > Realist painter Lucian Freud, famed for his nudes of family and friends, dies aged 88
guardian.co.uk > Lucian Freud obituary
The Independent > Lucian Freud, the man who revitalised the fine art of portraits, dies by Rob Hastings
NYtimes.com > Lucian Freud, Who Recast Art of Portraiture, Dies at 88 by William Grimes
The Telegraph > Lucian Freud, OM
NOTICES AND APPRECIATIONS:
The Chronicle of Higher Education > Brainstorm > Lucian Freud, Painter of Flesh (1922-2011) by Laurie Fendrich, who writes:
Freud’s paint handling seems to miraculously turn paint into flesh. His pictures owe a lot to the great English painter Sir Stanley Spencer. Actually, all painters who move thick paint around in a way that makes it seem as if it’s not paint, but real physical flesh, ultimately claim roots in Rembrandt and Velázquez. But where those two painting giants retrieved human dignity from out of its fleshly variations, Freud carried on in the more brutal, modern understanding of flesh — an approach that amounts to saying, “Nothing to do about it; we’re stuck in these things called bodies.”
guardian.co.uk > Lucian Freud dies aged 88 by Vanessa Thorpe
guardian.co.uk > Lucian Freud: life writ large by Laura Cumming. Here’s a taste:
Lucian Freud was frequently described as a contemporary old master, a Rembrandt for our times. But his work was in fact a radical breach of tradition. He painted people, but not quite (or not often) portraits. He painted from the life, but his life paintings were clearly not moments in the lives of those he painted — models, magnates, office workers, whippets, his many lovers, his many daughters — so much as scenes of their physical presence in his studio.
That bleak room in west London (its address carefully guarded), with its bare floor, discoloured walls and heaps of paint-smutched rags, was the constant theatre of his art. It became as familiar as his figures and their poses: huddled, sprawling, crouched or splayed, genitals dangling or parted, head thrown back or lolling, sometimes in pairs, but most often alone, bodies removed from their clothes, and perhaps even separated from their selves, their souls.
The Independent > Freud model mourns artist’s death
The Independent > A huge talent, and a singular force of creative energy until the very end by Michael Glover
lines and colors > Lucian Freud by Charley Parker
Making a Mark > Lucian Freud (1922-2011) – an appreciation by Katherine Tyrrell — a compilation of quotations by and about Lucian Freud.
NYmag.com > Vulture > Jerry Saltz on Lucian Freud: Why Artists You Don’t Love Can Still Be Great. Saltz’s conclusion:
For the longest time, Freud seemed a throwback, someone who addressed and battled School of Paris painting. As the world lurched away from French traditions, toward abstraction, pop, and beyond, Freud seemed to stand still.
Yet this is his salvation — and what makes him such an important artist to come to terms with. He is so dogmatic and insistent on doing what he does in spite of whatever trends come and go, while at the same time being world-famous and famously consistent, that his art now exists as a champion island in the mainstream for artists. Every artist will one day face the moment when he or she is doing what he or she does after the style has passed and the art-world heat-seeking machine has moved on. Lucian Freud’s career affirms that the only thing an artist can do is remain true to whatever vision, (lack of) talent, or ideas that happened to pick them in order to be made known to the world.
NYtimes.com > The Artist as Provocateur, Set in His Ways by Michael Kimmelman
The Telegraph > Lucian Freud: he was wise in his way by Martyn Gayford. Here’s an excerpt:
His wildness, even in youth, was only half the truth. Lucian was also, as he put it, “very steady in his way”. He told the story of Augustus John’s son, Caspar, who in later life became an Admiral. Someone once remarked to him on the contrast between his career in the navy, and the rackety bohemian milieu of his father. “To be a painter”, answered Admiral John, “requires enormous discipline”. That was true of Lucian too: the astonishing determination needed to carry on painting, decade after decade, through every sort of discouragement, all day every day. His whole career was a tremendous gamble, on his own talent.
“I want paint to work as flesh, I know my idea of portraiture
came from dissatisfaction with portraits that resembled people. I would wish my portraits to be of the people, not like them. Not having to look at the sitter, being them. As far as I am concerned, the paint is the person. I want it to work for me just as the flesh does.”
– Lucian Freud
OTHER RESOURCES:
Artcyclopedia > Lucian Freud
Squidoo > Lucian Freud – Resources for Art Lovers
Wikipedia > Lucian Freud
Yesterday afternoon, I spent a little time reading at random in Painting Techniques of the Masters: Painting Lessons from the Great Masters (revised and enlarged edition) by Hereward Lester Cooke, and came across a famous portrait by Titian that, to my eye and mind, could easily have been one of the inspirations for Jeffrey Jones’s oddly proportioned but striking portrait of Robert E. Howard’s Solomon Kane, created for the first edition of a collection of Solomon Kane short stories, Red Shadows, published by Donald M. Grant in 1968:
- ABOVE: Titian, Portrait of Doge Andrea Gritti (1544-45), oil on canvas, 133.6 x 103.2 cm.
- ABOVE: Titian, Portrait of Doge Andrea Gritti (1544-45), oil on canvas, 133.6 x 103.2 cm. Please note that I’ve flipped Titian’s painting horizontally, i.e., made a mirror image of it, in the above JPEG to facilitate comparison and contrast with Jeffrey Jones’s painting. Mirroring is strategy commonly used by artists to disguise their swipes, though I don’t think I’d go so far as to say that Jones’s “Solomon Kane” is swiped from Titian’s “Doge Andrea Gritti.”
- ABOVE: Jeffrey Jones, Solomon Kane (1967), oil on canvas.
As the night wind said to the little lamb: Do you see what I see?
POSTSCRIPT:
I wonder, does anyone else think that Jones’s portrait of Solomon Kane is basically a self-portrait? Because I sure do.
- ABOVE: Milt Kobayashi, Bessie’s Striped Shirt, oil on canvas, 12 x 14 inches.
- ABOVE: Milt Kobayashi, Loose Lips, oil on canvas, 10 x 12 inches.
Notice the sizes of those two canvases. They’re tiny! But what they lack in size they more than make up for with their psychological acuity, sensitive design, painterly verve, and sheer presence.
BONUS LINKS:
In 2004, commercial illustrator turned fine artist and art teacher Milt Kobayashi gave a workshop in Scottsdale, Arizona, and allowed the organizers to photograph the five paintings he produced as demonstrations and post them on the Web. Here are the links: one (high res.), two (high res.), three (includes step-by-step photos; high res.), four (high res.), and five (high res.).
Artist Daily > The Oil Painting Blog > Oil Painting: Milt Kobayashi: Paint What You Want to See
The big news in Canadian art today is that, of the 198 paintings up for sale Thursday night at Sotheby’s auction in Toronto, about 55 did not sell while several high-profile works failed to live up to expectations. Bidding on a 9×10-inch plein-air oil sketch by Tom Thomson entitled Early Snow, Algonquin Park (1916), for instance, stopped at $425,000 — $25,000 shy of its reserve and estimated price of $450,000 to $600,000. The painting was originally purchased from the Laing Gallery in 1958 for $1,000, and apparently had hung in a little waterfront bungalow somewhere in Pennsylvania for several decades before it was sent off to auction. Here’s a tiny JPEG to give the you flavour of the piece:
For the most part, Thomson’s celebrated oil sketches are very easy to like: the colour, the brushwork, the compositions, everything about them still seems fresh and attractive, even after all these years. But it’s often that way with sketches, isn’t it?
Thomson’s large-scale studio paintings are an entirely different kettle of fish.























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