27th
Stephen Hawking, by Tai-Shan Schierenberg
When I was in art school in the early 90’s, Lucian Freud was one of my biggest heroes. I know, really original, right? He had acolytes everywhere too. One of them was Tai-Shan Schierenberg, obviously. At the time, I recall thinking Schierenberg was somewhat bolder, more innovative and energetic than Freud. He’d just been a student (at the Slade) a few years earlier, and I didn’t realize at the time how much that meant his work (or any artist’s) was likely to change.
Fast forward 18 years. I’m reading the news, and I see his most recent painting - the portrait above, of Stephen Hawking - has just been unveiled, and I’m floored. It’s a gorgeous painting, from what I can tell online. It manages to be strong, soaring, and vulnerable at once, and the color and light and surface are all brash and subtle. But that’s not what strikes me.
Instead, the first thing that comes to mind is that Freud must have discovered a way to live forever, by using another human being as a host body for his consciousness. It’s like one of those horrid, Star Wars fanfic audiobooks in which we’re told Palpatine never died, because he used The Force to inhabit the empty shells of clone after clone and live indefinitely so he could see his glorious Empire reconstituted and the Rebel Scum purged forever from the galaxy! And at the very least, I suppose, an artist like Freud needs a worthy successor.
Anyway, nice painting. Beautiful painting. But I also miss the old Tai-Shan.
