Exhibition Reviews

Lucian Freud Portraits. The National Portrait Gallery.

I arrived at the doors of the Lucian Freud exhibition with some anticipation, it’s the one that everyone is talking about, and it has drawn me out on a special trip to London.

Waiting for entry I was greeted with a wall of etchings and drawings by Freud, each a dark, detailed study of the sitter, whether human or dog, and each slowly deliberately portraying the flesh, bones and humanity of the subject.

Large Head, 1993, etching.

The first reaction I have to these works is of awe, at the sheer overpowering quantity, at the use of marks, the honesty of the bodies, at the flesh. This awe only grew throughout the show.

The show is a chronological display of portraits throughout the painters life, beginning with early paintings such as Girl With Roses, 1947-8. Flatter, less expressive paintings, which nevertheless enchant with their mysterious, unsettling composition, pose and stare. I feel accused and ill at ease with these portraits, weather the eyes of the sitter look away or stare strait at me, they seem to be frighteningly aware and unhappy with their situation.

Girl with Roses, 1922.

Moving closer to the center of the exhibition, the paintings become bigger, expressive, colour becomes more varied and telling. It seems to me that here by the 1980’s the love of paint, flesh and bodies, which distinguish Freud’s work begins to show

Another aspect which begins to appear here and which is one of many of the most intriguing parts of Freud’s paintings to me, is emphasis on the positioning of the body. The poses take on an importance which was neither possible or apparent in the smaller scale earlier works.  Each figure seems to me to become unique through their own exaggeratedly awkward and uncomfortable angles of body, splayed limbs, unhappy faces, each sitters body exaggeratedly different from the others. This diversity is emphasized by the quantity and closeness of the paintings to one another.

Naked Portrait, 1980-1981

One painting which particularly stands out to me in this aspect is Naked Portrait, 1980-81. This figure is awkwardly squashed into the frame, propped up, head pressing down to touch the shoulder, arms stiffly held at the sides while one leg protrudes foreword. This awkwardness is subtler than in many of the paintings in this area, emphasis on the limbs and body used rather than splayed limbs and exaggeratedly sharp angles.

But as with many of Freud’s paintings this was the last thing I noticed about it. First was the flesh, the folds, the swelling bulbous torso, emphasized by  brush marks tracing the shape of the body and thick paint. Then the colours grabbed my attention, the huge range of blues, reds, pinks, purples and more combined by a cream skin tone which brought together and made the figure heavy despite the energy of the paint. This first created the sense of awkwardness of the figure which I felt.

Moving off into the final reaches of this exhibition, the rooms seem to go on and on. I find the final years, 1990- 2011, where paintings become monstrously huge, expressive thickly painted, applied in hogs brush to gain in marks, thick long brush strokes and gritty stippling effects combine in each figure.

Now it is simply the use of paint that fills me with awe. I love the thick paint, the long, flowing brush marks surrounding limbs and building up the figure, contrasting with heavy stippling of the brushes over large areas of the body. Creating a rawer, more painful patch of skin in the hefty, soft, rounded expanses.

The colours become even more vibrant and alive further contrasting with the weight of the paint on the canvas.

No matter how hideous the figure portrayed seems, there is a sheer magnetism and beauty in these paintings which cannot be passed by.

Sleeping by the Lion Carpet, 1996.

This magnetism is best described through two paintings in these final rooms. Sleeping by the Lion Carpet, 1996. This painting is situated in a room dedicated to paintings of ‘Big Sue’, huge fleshy bodies surround me. So soft, rounded, bulging that they captivate me, become beautiful as I am drawn into the expanses of flesh. I can really feel the body as it is here, the heaviness, the strain, aches, the physical body is made more apparent through paint.

But it is this painting which draws me the most, the woman’s thigh stretches larger than my head, burning red blotches on the stomach and breasts interrupt the movement of the paint creating patches of heat and drawing my attention. The flesh around it is so supple and rounded through the curves of the brush marks that I can almost feel the body. The curves flare with delicate oranges, pinks and blues, describing to me the sensations of each body part.

Fred Standing, 2000-2001.

The other image I have chosen to summarize these penultimate rooms could not be more contrasting, Freddy Standing, 2000-2001 depicts a withered, hard, dejected man standing in the corner of a dismally grey room. This portrait drew me for that reason, it was so different. The body is long, bones pushing at the thin skin. The colours running through are cold and hard, purples and blues seeming to be bruises while hot reds streak through the limbs to appear raw, stretched and beaten. The stance of the figure, slouched foreword, backed into a corner seems defeated and vulnerable, opposing the strong brush marks and colours building it.

Two Women, 1992.

The only time throughout the show where the individuality of figures becomes more apparent is when two or more are included in the same painting, such as in Two Women, 1992. This is worth mentioning as it is one of only a very few times where I have seen bodily rather than ideal figures placed side by side. In doing this Freud has forced a comparison of the two bodies upon us, each looking exaggeratedly different and un-ideal in size and shape due to the presence of the other. Each body’s limbs and angles appearing more awkward and misfitting as my eyes try to separate them.

Finally what really filled me with awe leaving this exhibition is one thought. I could do that. Not in the demeaning, anybody can do it sense of the phrase, but in the inspired understanding which looking at many of these paintings has brung to me. Uplifted I think, I could make a painting that good one day. For now I am simply in love with Freud’s paint.

 

A World of Glass; Nathalie Djurberg with music by Hans Berg. At Camden Arts Centre.

The exhibition revolves around four claymation films in two rooms, each film is situated at either end of a large room , the centre is filled by rows of tables upon which is displayed many fragile, but exaggerated phallic glass-like vessels and objects.

Three of the four films directly involve the glass objects in their scenery and action, bringing the viewer into the world on the screen as they become surrounded by the objects of the films.

The glass objects however, aren’t the main focus of the films, rather the rough, tortured, abject characters are.

In the first room both films begin with one seated, passive woman surrounded by active, pacing animals. The films focus on the interaction of the animals and women and the devastating effects of this.

For me soon a theme of violence, self-revulsion and a critique of this evolves through the films. The parallels between uncontrollable, violent animals and men, or humans generally, contrasted with the fragile vessels and vulnerable women bring back to me a sense of the naive and primitive in a particularly potent, emotive vision.

Despite this possibly the strongest film in creating an emotional response from me was the last I came to view, involving no humans but bringing a visual interpretation of the saying ‘a bull in a china shop’.

Watching a large lumbering creature slowly, painfully and inescapably destroy itself, quite literally reduced me to tears.

The way each character is created in the viewers mind through both their actions and the sensitive modeling creates such evocative sensations. The bull character for example is first introduced large, lumbering in the claustrophobic setting. It’s flesh is soft, pliable but patched with areas of wooly fur. This creature seems bedraggled and ugly. Immediately I began to feel a sympathy for this sorry creature. As the scene unfolds wet, red,thick, flowing substances, blood and tears exude from the creature as it sheers away its own flesh. The bull becomes lighter to look at, the stress of thinner, sharper angles scream of pain and suffering.

Each of these films is filled with empathy with the grotesque and ignored. Each creates this through fabulous use of form, material, texture, colour and movement.