Sad news. Lucian Freud, one of the greats of British post-war painting, has died, at the age of 88. I had the pleasure to see him several times as he dined at his table at The Wolseley. Yesterday, according to The Guardian, that table was draped in a black cloth with a single candle on it. Freud, whose paintings sold for tens of millions, was famously linked to Sigmund Freud, his grand-father. I recall studying his work in art history class back at college in Montreal; we were all taken aback by and impressed with his attention to genitals, and to the gross realities of human fleshiness. Later, in London, I looked into his late self-portrait and recognized in its slashes of dark colours genius, and dark self-reflection. Genius can be complicated, strange, ugly, and attractive, all at once, in a compelling way; the best art usually is. I am not sure Freud was a person you'd want to meet unless you were a beautiful woman, or someone to model for him, or a close friend; he emanated a sense of danger. I am glad to have seen him at a distance; and to have seen his paintings up close. One of his children, Annie Freud, is one of the best English poets of her generation; my condolences to her and the rest of his family.
THAT HANDSOME MAN A PERSONAL BRIEF REVIEW BY TODD SWIFT I could lie and claim Larkin, Yeats , or Dylan Thomas most excited me as a young poet, or even Pound or FT Prince - but the truth be told, it was Thom Gunn I first and most loved when I was young. Precisely, I fell in love with his first two collections, written under a formalist, Elizabethan ( Fulke Greville mainly), Yvor Winters triad of influences - uniquely fused with an interest in homerotica, pop culture ( Brando, Elvis , motorcycles). His best poem 'On The Move' is oddly presented here without the quote that began it usually - Man, you gotta go - which I loved. Gunn was - and remains - so thrilling, to me at least, because so odd. His elegance, poise, and intelligence is all about display, about surface - but the surface of a panther, who ripples with strength beneath the skin. With Gunn, you dressed to have sex. Or so I thought. Because I was queer (I maintain the right to lay claim to that
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My artist wife Rusty was a big fan of Lucian Freud. He was, in some ways, Britain's answer to Picasso. Although his children won't be left poor by his passing, it is a sad loss to the art world in general.
Best wishes from Simon