Oops again! Celeste, we may need to move this as per Karin's suggestion. Thanks for your patience with this newbie poster...

This is one of my favorite Lucian Freud portraits. It's certainly not a traditional portrait, but I still love what it says about this man, and I love the way it's done. This is one of my favorite paintings ever.

To me it says he's got a big head.

This is so cute and comical and yet has a a real serious yet solid feel to it. I wouldn't want it in my house maybe but I can see why some would really like this.

It's speaking
 

It does say he can not draw worth a darn. But look at that right (our right) hand. Amazing

I think it says that this man loves his dog and his dog loves him. It's not about perfect beauty, it's about humanity. It shows the "worth" that this man and his dog posess. It says that his feelings are as real and as valid as those of beautiful people that are perfectly proportioned, well groomed,and fashionable.

After looking at this portrait again, I am struck by the amount of near parallel diagonal lines. The dog's back, the man's shoulders, the sofa back the lines on the wall the lines of the fabric, etc. This is what seems to be missing in many portraits that are otherwise very wonderful. Just basic art, yet many forget this when composing the portrait.

I'm going to start doing more and more of this as an "on purpose" process. However, being well aware that this could look very contrived if not done skillfully.

I agree. I think that the artist purposely emphasized the misshapen head, and exagerrated the mans imperfections to make sure that we got the point of what he was saying. Even with all the deformity it comes through loud and clear that this man "feels", and so does his dog. I love the dog's face. And I could look at those hands all day.

I have been thinking about Lucian Freud's work often these days, when I labor to get all the lines "exactly" like the photo. It might be better to let your subconscious distort the exact slant of the lines a bit to look better for the painting. If we produce a painting that is "exactly" like the photo , what good is it? We might better have just used the photo.

Of course people still want to buy portraits that look exactly like the photo. I guess it depends on whether one is painting for the client or for a museum.

I think Freud accomplished exactly what he planned to do with the Queen's portrait. Look at the controversy his painting caused.

You can't figure it out. By this I mean his motive and intentions are undefined. The old saying comes into mind, "a picture is worth a thousand words." Freud's portrait goes beyond that cliche, the possibilities as to what was on his mind are endless, just like our universe.

Or perhaps it's just a Freudian slip?

I've been following this controversy for a long time without weighing in, but I've got to side with Jim on this thread.

As a working painter, I realize that a lot of the decisions I make and the final result of my effort are driven by instinct, feel, guts (or lack of them) and a lot of other non-verbal, non-cerebral action. I'm working on whatever artistic issues interest me at the time. Most times that includes correct, academic copying of the shapes I see (draftsmanship). But sometimes not.

To dismiss the effort of an artist as being completely a product of devious, overt calculation aimed toward creating the most controversy and garnering the most attention is to miss the point--that art is primarily a dialogue with oneself, in private. Presuming that Freud painted the Queen that way because he didn't like her, or for some other ominous reason, assumes I have special insight his psyche. I've learned (the hard way) when I make that assumption, I'm almost always wrong.

And to Jim's insistence, criticizing an artist for not being interested in the same things I am, stylistically and formally, is artistic political correctness to the extreme. Criticizing a non-traditionalist for not being Bouguereau is the same crime--in reverse--that was perpetuated against traditional realists through most of the 20th Century by the "modern" art world. If it wasn't okay for them, it's not okay for us. Freud doesn't paint the way I do because he doesn't care to. And isn't that all right?

She didn't pay him, and agreed to the project, so what's the harm? Lord knows, she's got the time. And whether she's happy with the result or not is her decision--I don't have a dog in that fight.

If I can learn something about painting by looking at it, why not look? It's a lot more sensible than pretending that if I view anything but what reminds me of me, my eyes will dissolve in their sockets and my soul will be irreparably damaged.

Like the song says "different strokes for different folks."

Best--TE