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| Letters From London |
| Humorous Views on London Culture, Royals, Gossip and Politics |
The Emperor's New Clothes - 17 May 2008
“Don’t look at me. Don’t look at me. I’m painting blindfolded and with my left hand, standing on
my right foot. Such a genius. Ring Christies. It’s ready to sell.”
Under-talented, over-rated, decidedly smarmy, ‘the greatest living painter in Britain’ Lucian
Freud's - big in size and corpulence– 1995 painting, Benefits Supervisor Sleeping has set a
record for the most expensive auction painting by a living artist at Christies New York: £17
million. Rumour has it an American bought it. Presumably not to be hung in the dining room –
unless the objective is the American mantra: ‘You can never be too rich or too thin.’
Sleeping benefits supervisor Sue Tilly continues to work at the Job Centre and has been seen in
the flesh, although dressed, on every TV show broadcasting. On one morning programme: “Do
not call me ‘Big Sue. That’s not my name!” It was Freud’s title for the painting of Big Sue lying
naked on the floor.
“I only had three days off in two years. Every weekend he expected me to be there and I
couldn't get a tan…Lucian needs you to be devoted.”
We are familiar with the fact that 85-year-old Freud’s major obsession, other than young girls, is
clearly carnal. Lacking facility or love of the medium – no sensuous brushstrokes – just a bit of
piling on; he could have used a trowel rather than a palette knife. Rubens meets Ivan Albright on
the canvas. Not pretty.
His paintings have transformed from adequate post-40’s illustration to over-worked, loose, raw
interpretations. Freud has always used shock tactics. Now so appropriate for this tedious
celebrity culture. So on trend.
No social realism, no cultural references, no depth, no essence of being, no transforming
transcendental imagery and certainly no accurate portrayal.
Three years ago one of Freud’s paintings of one of his daughters sold for a mere £3.93m. He
painted all his daughters. It was explained to perspective buyers that after being an absent
father, this was his way of re-connecting. “My naked daughters have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Rather missing the point I’d say. Not his daughter, Kate Moss’s Naked Portrait 2002 sold for a
pitiful £3.9m May 2003. Previously the auction record for a Freud painting was the £9.3 million
set in November 2007 for IB And Her Husband, painted in 1992.
“Everything is autobiographical and everything is a portrait.” Spoken like a true, smaller than 5’6”,
glamour-seeking ex-playboy, alcoholic, gambling-addicted narcissist caught up in psychological
transference. Freud has frequently inserted himself into his portraits quite literally though not
particularly obvious to the viewer: his coat, shoes, brushes, pestle and mortar, etc. “I’m
interested in them (his sitters) as animals.” Although it has been said that he is kinder to animals.
His love for woman never moved beyond his relationship with his mother; misogyny clearly
evident in his work. No matter. Freud continues to acquire ‘muses’ young enough to be his great-
grand-daughters.
Could he be the artist equivalent of Woody Allen, minus the early masterpieces? Grandfather,
Sigmund, must be jumping up and down in a parallel universe. “A pathological narcissist! The
embodiment of neurosis! I must analyse him! Perhaps a smidgeon of cocaine first….”
Friend of Freud, Francis Bacon’s Triptych, 1976 was sold at Sotheby's in New York the next day
for £43m, the highest price ever paid for a Bacon. Britain’s best dead painter possibly?
“Don’t look at me. Don’t look at me. I’m painting blindfolded and with my left hand, standing on
my right foot. Such a genius. Ring Christies. It’s ready to sell.”
Under-talented, over-rated, decidedly smarmy, ‘the greatest living painter in Britain’ Lucian
Freud's - big in size and corpulence– 1995 painting, Benefits Supervisor Sleeping has set a
record for the most expensive auction painting by a living artist at Christies New York: £17
million. Rumour has it an American bought it. Presumably not to be hung in the dining room –
unless the objective is the American mantra: ‘You can never be too rich or too thin.’
Sleeping benefits supervisor Sue Tilly continues to work at the Job Centre and has been seen in
the flesh, although dressed, on every TV show broadcasting. On one morning programme: “Do
not call me ‘Big Sue. That’s not my name!” It was Freud’s title for the painting of Big Sue lying
naked on the floor.
“I only had three days off in two years. Every weekend he expected me to be there and I
couldn't get a tan…Lucian needs you to be devoted.”
We are familiar with the fact that 85-year-old Freud’s major obsession, other than young girls, is
clearly carnal. Lacking facility or love of the medium – no sensuous brushstrokes – just a bit of
piling on; he could have used a trowel rather than a palette knife. Rubens meets Ivan Albright on
the canvas. Not pretty.
His paintings have transformed from adequate post-40’s illustration to over-worked, loose, raw
interpretations. Freud has always used shock tactics. Now so appropriate for this tedious
celebrity culture. So on trend.
No social realism, no cultural references, no depth, no essence of being, no transforming
transcendental imagery and certainly no accurate portrayal.
Three years ago one of Freud’s paintings of one of his daughters sold for a mere £3.93m. He
painted all his daughters. It was explained to perspective buyers that after being an absent
father, this was his way of re-connecting. “My naked daughters have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Rather missing the point I’d say. Not his daughter, Kate Moss’s Naked Portrait 2002 sold for a
pitiful £3.9m May 2003. Previously the auction record for a Freud painting was the £9.3 million
set in November 2007 for IB And Her Husband, painted in 1992.
“Everything is autobiographical and everything is a portrait.” Spoken like a true, smaller than 5’6”,
glamour-seeking ex-playboy, alcoholic, gambling-addicted narcissist caught up in psychological
transference. Freud has frequently inserted himself into his portraits quite literally though not
particularly obvious to the viewer: his coat, shoes, brushes, pestle and mortar, etc. “I’m
interested in them (his sitters) as animals.” Although it has been said that he is kinder to animals.
His love for woman never moved beyond his relationship with his mother; misogyny clearly
evident in his work. No matter. Freud continues to acquire ‘muses’ young enough to be his great-
grand-daughters.
Could he be the artist equivalent of Woody Allen, minus the early masterpieces? Grandfather,
Sigmund, must be jumping up and down in a parallel universe. “A pathological narcissist! The
embodiment of neurosis! I must analyse him! Perhaps a smidgeon of cocaine first….”
Friend of Freud, Francis Bacon’s Triptych, 1976 was sold at Sotheby's in New York the next day
for £43m, the highest price ever paid for a Bacon. Britain’s best dead painter possibly?
