And Finally, Freud...

One last note for the day; this one on Freud. That would be Lucian, not Sigmund.

Here's a picture of my studio--as humble a place as could be imagined, except for the fun view onto Union Square. It looks a little messy, no?

But hey, sometimes a mess is just a mess.



And speaking of mess, halfway through this post I realize that the painter I want to talk about isn't Lucian Freud at all, but rather Francis Bacon. But hey, that's half the fun of it--starting out wrong then correcting yourself before anyone else can. This would not be unlike the painting process itself--starting out wrong, then correcting yourself.

Of course later, once you actually are done and you (mostly) think you've gotten it right, you get to listen to people tell you what's wrong and how you could correct it.

Anyway... Bacon. That's kind of a Freudian name, isn't it?

For those who wrestle with the level of clutter in their lives, I strongly suggest checking out one of the many books that feature photographs of artists' studios and turn immediately to those depicting Francis Bacon's. This is a man who created some of the most arresting painted images of the second half of the 20th century (I particularly like his Screaming Pope paintings), and he did so while surrounded by a level of clutter that literally defies belief.

Now, for those who like pictures of big fat guys, Lucian Freud is your man. Naked people in general, really, and done beautifully, but I am here to tell you, nobody does fat guys like Freud. Particularly that one guy--Leigh Bowery, the performance artist who became a muse of a sort. I'm trying to think of the name of the person who does the fat women, but it's escaping me. But hey, that's half the fun of it.