PRINT October 1987


LUCIAN FREUD IS one of those artists whose work seems difficult to discuss, both for critics and for the painter himself. “I don’t like talking about my work—it feels unnatural,” Freud wrote to me recently; “I’m not much interested in talking of what I’ve done, because it’s done. And I feel guarded about what I am trying to do now.” Still, a fair amount has been written about Freud in the forty-odd years since he began to exhibit. We get Lucian Freud, realist painter: the artist who, through all the swells and changes of art since World War II, through Abstract Expressionism and Minimalism and Conceptualism, through Pop and Op and on, has basically stuck to a small range of traditional genres—the portrait, the landscape, the still life. And we get Lucian Freud, technician: his brushwork, his use of this or that pigment to achieve a certain effect, his palette, his draftsmanship, and so

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