Red Haired Man on a Chair 1963

Lucian Freud made this painting, Red Haired Man on a Chair, with oil on canvas, and what strikes me first is the palpable weight and density of the paint. I imagine Freud, hunched over his canvas, building up layers of fleshy tones to construct the figure with a kind of forensic intensity. The palette is subdued – greens, greys, and browns dominate, but within that, he finds a whole world of subtle variation. The surface is thick, almost sculptural in places, and the brushstrokes are visible, raw. The way he renders the hands, for example – those gnarled, almost painful-looking fingers. You can almost feel the weight of the body, the weariness in the pose. I am reminded of other painters such as Chaim Soutine. They’re all having this conversation across time and space, picking up threads, pushing back against conventions, and redefining what painting can be. In painting, nothing is ever really resolved; it’s an ongoing process of inquiry, a conversation that stretches back centuries and continues to evolve.