In memory of two great British artists, one who lived to be 88, the other a very tragic 27.
Both marched to their own beats, both were geniuses, of course, of very different kinds. Freud, the grandson of Sigmund, pushed all the envelopes through his career as the controversial portraiturist, who showed it like he saw it–pounds of flesh and all. Winehouse, who was found dead in her London flat this past Saturday, didn’t hide much either, paying just respect to the classic torch singers of other eras, while nodding to punk while singing about not going to rehab, wearing her veins on her ripped sleeves. Hopefully both will get the proper retrospectives in the coming weeks. Stay tuned.
