The Lives of Lucian Freud: FAME 1968 - 2011
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The Lives of Lucian Freud: FAME 1968 - 2011
ナレーター：
Jonathan Keeble
￥3,880 で購入
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ナレーター：
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Jonathan Keeble
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著者：
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William Feaver
LONGLISTED FOR THE 2020 BAILLIE GIFFORD PRIZE
CHOSEN AS A BOOK OF THE YEAR BY THE GUARDIAN, OBSERVER, THE TIMES, SUNDAY TIMES, DAILY TELEGRAPH, MAIL ON SUNDAY, FINANCIAL TIMES, NEW STATESMAN, SPECTATOR
THE SUNDAY TIMES ART BOOK OF THE YEAR 2020
‘A dazzling tour de force’ THE TIMES
‘Does justice to Freud’s pitiless genius as an artist’ DAILY MAIL
‘You can hear Freud’s voice on the page’ OBSERVER
‘Mesmerising … the ideal companion to Freud’s work’ GUARDIAN
William Feaver, Lucian Freud’s collaborator, curator and close friend, knew the unknowable artist better than most. Over many years, Freud narrated to him the story of his life, ‘our novel’.
Fame follows Freud at the height of his powers, painting the most iconic works of his career in a constant and dissatisfied pursuit of perfection, just outrunning his gambling debts and tailor’s bills. Whether tattooing swallows at the base of Kate Moss’s back or exacting a strange and horrible revenge on Jerry Hall and Mick Jagger, Freud’s adventures were always perfectly characteristic. An enfant terrible till the end, even as he was commissioned to paint the Queen and attended his own retrospectives, what emerges is an artist wilfully oblivious to the glitter of the world around – and focussed instead on painting first and last.©2020 William Feaver (P)2020 Bloomsbury Publishing PLC
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批評家のレビュー
The concluding volume of Feaver’s unmissable biography sees the great painter evolving from enfant terrible into Old Devil - although really was a man ever so uncompromisingly himself from cradle to grave? As a life it’s both a horrible warning and a shining example, and Feaver does it justice
Freud was a wonderful painter – a genius – but a frequently awful human being. His endless feuds and fights, his numerous sexual partners, his extraordinary work and his eccentricities are all vividly chronicled in this, the second volume of Fever’s monumental biography
Lucian Freud wanted William Feaver’s biography of him to be ‘the first funny art book’ … [this is] certainly that, with laughs galore. But it’s also much more, not least a wonderfully vivid chronicle of the interlocking worlds of money, art and bohemia
Freud’s voice rings out on every page, offering opinions on everything from the poutiness of some of his less-acknowledged children … to the sublimity of Titian’s Diana and Callisto. There’s plenty of celebrity juice here too
Huge, gossipy and sometimes shocking … no less breezy and eye-popping than the first
Feaver has collected some fabulous stories
William Feaver’s biography of Lucian Freud also comes in two parts. I read the second part, Fame: 1968-2011 (Bloomsbury) this year and found it as engrossing and well informed as the first, and as judicious and well written (Colm Toibin)
[One of] the best things I read this year … crammed with enough jaw-dropping, buttocks-clenching revelations to keep a whole Soho pub entertained for days (Robert Douglas Fairhurst)
Explosively enjoyable, bursting with life and art, and all focused on a central figure as wild and beguiling as any character in literature, real or fictitious ... Feaver is wonderfully deft at interweaving the art and the life in an unshowy manner. Throughout the two volumes he manages to convey Freud’s personal magnetism, and the way he was simultaneously controlled and controlling and out of control. And, rare for a biographer, he shows what it was like to be with his subject from day to day (Craig Brown)
Magnificent ... Reads like the last days of Rome ... Feaver shares his subject’s style and timing. His clipped prose is running commentary and ironic aside; the sentences, bone-dry, have dramatic entrances (Frances Wilson)
If Freud’s pictures are at heart all about palpable reality, the same is true of Feaver’s daunting enterprise ... David Hockney described Freud’s portraits as being essentially “an account of looking”, and that’s just what Feaver’s book is too
Does justice to Freud’s pitiless genius as an artist
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