Freud’s work, while quieter, perhaps, struck me more and more over time. His portraits were more confrontational and more true. His work was an unflinching stare, making me look more at myself than most other artwork. There was also a great kindness in his work — a deep love of the flawed humanity. He died Thursday at the age of 88, leaving behind a trove of some of the best work in the past century.
Read the gorgeous obituary of the grandson of Sigmund Freud, the rake who may have had 40 illegitimate children, the mysterious disdainer of the art world. And linger over his work awhile: