In his highly acclaimed text, Robert Hughes points out that the reality pursued in Freud's paintings goes far beyond naturalism. It is both startling and disconcerting, producing some of the most powerful and moving visual images to have appeared in the last thirty years. Freud―once dubbed "the Ingres of existentialism"―has almost single-handedly redefined the figurative painting of our time. No other living artist possesses his ability to paint the texture and thinness of skin over flesh, and his distinctive portraits have a haunting quality that makes them impossible to forget. This volume, with over one hundred superb reproductions of his greatest paintings, pays tribute to one of the most original and accomplished artists of the twentieth century. 100+ illustrations
Robert Studley Forrest Hughes, AO was an Australian art critic, writer and television documentary maker who has resided in New York since 1970. He was educated at St Ignatius' College, Riverview before going on to study arts and then architecture at the University of Sydney. At university, Hughes associated with the Sydney "Push" – a group of artists, writers, intellectuals and drinkers. Among the group were Germaine Greer and Clive James. Hughes, an aspiring artist and poet, abandoned his university endeavours to become first a cartoonist and then an art critic for the Sydney periodical The Observer, edited by Donald Horne. Around this time he wrote a history of Australian painting, titled The Art of Australia, which is still considered to be an important work. It was published in 1966. Hughes was also briefly involved in the original Sydney version of Oz magazine, and wrote art criticism for The Nation and The Sunday Mirror.
Hughes left Australia for Europe in 1964, living for a time in Italy before settling in London, England (1965) where he wrote for The Spectator, The Daily Telegraph, The Times and The Observer, among others, and contributed to the London version of Oz. In 1970 he obtained the position of art critic for TIME magazine and he moved to New York. He quickly established himself in the United States as an influential art critic.In 1975, he and Don Brady provided the narration for the film Protected, a documentary showing what life was like for Indigenous Australians on Palm Island.
In 1980, the BBC broadcast The Shock of the New, Hughes's television series on the development of modern art since the Impressionists. It was accompanied by a book of the same name; its combination of insight, wit and accessibility are still widely praised. In 1987, The Fatal Shore, Hughes's study of the British penal colonies and early European settlement of Australia, became an international best-seller.
Hughes provided commentary on the work of artist Robert Crumb in parts of the 1994 film Crumb, calling Crumb "the American Breughel". His 1997 television series American Visions reviewed the history of American art since the Revolution. He was again dismissive of much recent art; this time, sculptor Jeff Koons was subjected to criticism. Australia: Beyond the Fatal Shore (2000) was a series musing on modern Australia and Hughes's relationship with it. Hughes's 2002 documentary on the painter Francisco Goya, Goya: Crazy Like a Genius, was broadcast on the first night of the BBC's domestic digital service. Hughes created a one hour update to The Shock of the New. Titled The New Shock of the New, the program aired first in 2004. Hughes published the first volume of his memoirs, Things I Didn’t Know, in 2006.
The commentary at the beginning of this book was beyond my ability to understand. I guess that's not much of a loss; the paintings make their own impression. At first, I was confused. What is going on here? After several more viewings, spread over several days, some of my confusion abated. I started to see, or maybe imagine, the mood or personality of the paintings. That's tentative; maybe after more viewings I might see it differently.
I got this book after seeing an exhibit of Lucian Freud paintings in London. I was enthralled by him. I later saw his work again, here in The Hague at the Gemeentemuseum. I went several times. Lucian Freud handles the human body like a butcher handles meat. This might not sound like a complement, but it is, really. He has a way of making you look at the flesh on the bones, the solidity of the human form. This and the odd angles he chooses make the viewer, at least me, feel somewhat out of equilibrium and maybe even a little nauseous. But the fact of the matter is, I can't NOT look at them. I can almost smell them. (Which is not so pleasant.) So, I don't take down this book often, but I keep it on my shelf, if nothing else as a reminder that we are human.
Absolutely Amazing. I love this book because A) I love this artist B) it depicts so many of Freud's paintings across his whole career. In addition to how amazing his art is, it's amazing the web of individuals that this artist was connected to. Much envy! Check him out!
The text in this book changed my mind about the painter. I still hate the crumbly stucco-like whites, but I guess *liking* the image isn't the point. I expected nothing but ugliness for shock value's sake, but I was wrong. I'm actually a little impressed at how much humanity is in Freud's paintings.