Alice Costelloe 2003

Here’s Lucian Freud’s portrait of Alice Costelloe, and what strikes me is the physicality of it—the way the paint seems almost sculpted onto the canvas, thick strokes building up the form. You can imagine Freud, standing close, intensely observing, each brushstroke a deliberate act of translation. What was he thinking as he captured her likeness? Was he as interested in her inner life, as he was in the surface, the way light catches on skin? Look at the way he's used the brush to render the planes of her face—those fleshy tones, the shadows, the glints of light. The colours aren't quite naturalistic, but they capture something essential about her presence, the way a face can reveal and conceal at the same time. It reminds me of Auerbach's portraits, this willingness to let the paint speak as much as the subject. It’s a painting that invites you to slow down, to really see, and to ponder the mysteries of human perception.