John Deakin 1964

Lucian Freud made this small portrait of John Deakin with oil on canvas, and it’s a beauty. I can imagine Freud, up close, squinting perhaps, really looking. The marks feel so considered, so built up, as if Freud is literally sculpting the face with paint. Thick, fleshy daubs of burnt orange and crimson render the face of Deakin. You can see how the colours shift and change, capturing the light and shadow, the depth and texture of skin. There’s such a vividness and raw energy in the painting, like you’re right there in the room with them. It reminds me of some of the portraits by Van Gogh, that same intensity of looking, that same desire to really capture a person, not just their likeness, but their essence. I wonder what Deakin made of it? I love the fact that artists are in constant conversation, always looking, always responding to one another.