The Butcher's Daughter 2000

Lucian Freud paints this nude, The Butcher’s Daughter, with oils and a real eye. It's a study in flesh tones—ochres, pinks, and browns layered thick to create a palpable sense of weight and form. I can imagine Freud, brush in hand, circling his subject, really looking. He’s trying to capture something beyond likeness; it’s like he's trying to capture the sitter’s very being. The paint is applied in these chunky strokes that build up the surface, giving it a kind of raw, almost sculptural presence. It's not about idealizing; it's about seeing. That hand, resting on her thigh. It’s so casually rendered, yet it speaks volumes about the sitter's state of mind. There is a vulnerability but also a quiet strength. Like a lot of us painters, Freud's work makes me think about the act of seeing and how painting can be a way of understanding ourselves and the world around us. It's an ongoing conversation across time, inspiring creativity.