Lucian Freud died yesterday aged 88. He’s meant to be the nation’s favourite artist – but you either love or hate him. I fall into the first camp. I love his eye for the naked, raw truth in all its glory and very often, gory ugliness.
I’ve always been fascinated by the high campness and fetishism of performance artist, Leigh Bowery. So was Freud. His portraits of Bowery, who knew he was HIV positive, and would later die from an Aids-related illness, capture a seedy realism and destructive force.
Whereas with Kate Moss, the exact opposite is true. He paints her nude with no props whatsoever, other than her pregnant, naked beauty.
Perhaps the greatest painting of all is The Benefits Supervisor, a large Sleeping Venus. It’s raw and timeless.
Big fleshy nakedness brought out the very best in Freud.
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