Lucian Freud and Amy Winehouse are the two names that aren’t likely to show up in the same sentence. But as they both died in London last week, the pair had me think about them together.
As different as they might seem – Freud (the Dr. Freud’s grandson) who shocked the world with his nudes that showed more flesh that most could handle and who lived till 88, and Winehouse whose brief, dense and volatile career and life, and now death at 27, rocked the world – the two seemed to have much more in common than one would think.
So what is in common? – Raw, real and honest art. Fraud spent days with his models, in order to get into every detail of their bodies – and by the way, all kinds of bodies: young and old, skinny and fat – and discover details more intimate than a lover could see. I think the only reason why we would want to turn away from his paintings is because behind pretty and shiny pictures in magazines we forgot what real bodies look like.
And Amy wasn’t there to be nice, cute and clean or for someone to like her. Whatever demons that troubled her, with authentic roughness in her voice and from the depth of her chest, she made it very clear – she ain’t going to rehab. Yeh, rehab might’ve saved her life. But I think I get it now, maybe she was worried if there would be Amy left after rehab.
Now everyone is screaming about wasted life and lost talent – what do you know? – look at your own life and talents and see what you are waisting. No reason to judge Amy. Thank you very much