Over the last few decades, the art world has experienced dramatic shifts; from the dominance of abstraction to a burgeoning resurgence of figurative art.
I remember the first time I saw Jenny Saville's work in person rather than in print or on a tiny screen. I don't say this often but her work quite literally took my breath away. It must have been an hour before I made it past the first painting, 'Propped" and into the exhibition itself.
I'd felt like I'd won the lottery that the exhibition was so close to home - a short walk up the road to Edinburgh's Gallery of Modern Art. I returned day after day and spent hours in awe. I think I'm captivated by the grotesque nature of her work. It grabs me in the same way Ken Currie's work does. Again, I'm beyond grateful that 'The Three Oncologists' is also so close to home in the Scottish National Portrait Gallery. I lose myself in this painting time and time again too.
I was fortunate enough to get to experience a Jenny Saville exhibition with my mum in 2018, in such a rare and frankly unorthodox way. She had been in hospital for a weekend after becoming allergic to her cancer anti-nausea meds. Long story short, she was out her box on morphine but ready to be discharged. I went to take her home when she told me that she wanted to go and see the Jenny Saville exhibition. Now! I suggested we'd maybe be better going the next day but was instantly swayed when she said, and I directly quote here... 'Who knows when I'll get the chance to experience these paintings whilst I'm fleeing again'. My mum liked art, but she would often say she 'wished she understood it'. She knew these paintings were important to me... and I think she thought she'd gain a deeper understanding in her 'altered' state... so, off we went.
I'm still not sure I'd recommend taking anyone that's out of it on morphine to an art gallery. Having to remind her to stay back as she leaned ever closer to each canvas, the unfiltered comments that garnered many a strange look, but I do genuinely believe my mum gained the understanding she'd always had but never believed in that day. I'd love to actually know, first hand, what she experienced that day and how this experience differed from her previous unmedicated visit. It's one of the fondest memories I have with my mum and it's a story I love telling whenever anyone who visits my home asks why I have a row of such 'terrifying' prints framed pride of place in my living room.
Anyway, I'm glad your essay reminded me once again of this moment and I'm glad I got to write about it in an open comments section.
What a profoundly beautiful memory....thank you for sharing it so openly🙏🏼
There’s something deeply moving about the way you describe both your connection to Saville’s work and the experience of seeing it through your mum’s eyes, especially in that altered, almost dreamlike state. That moment feels like a rare kind of magic....the kind that art, in all its raw and visceral power, sometimes grants us when we least expect it.
Your mum’s desire to “experience the paintings while fleeing”....that line hit me in the chest. It holds so much: humor, mortality, urgency, and love. And in her way, she DID understand the art....maybe not in the way she thought one had to, but in the truest way possible: she felt it, let it in, let it move her. That’s the kind of understanding that doesn’t need translation.
The image of her leaning closer, so curious and unfiltered, surrounded by these towering, unapologetic canvases....it’s both tender and powerful. And now, every time someone comments on those “terrifying” prints, you get to honor her story and that moment you shared.
Thank you again for writing this. You’ve gifted something quietly extraordinary here 🖤
Neo rauch is a German figurative painter worth checking out as well. Great post thanks
I love his work and use of such vibrant colors.
Thank you for reading.
I remember the first time I saw Jenny Saville's work in person rather than in print or on a tiny screen. I don't say this often but her work quite literally took my breath away. It must have been an hour before I made it past the first painting, 'Propped" and into the exhibition itself.
I'd felt like I'd won the lottery that the exhibition was so close to home - a short walk up the road to Edinburgh's Gallery of Modern Art. I returned day after day and spent hours in awe. I think I'm captivated by the grotesque nature of her work. It grabs me in the same way Ken Currie's work does. Again, I'm beyond grateful that 'The Three Oncologists' is also so close to home in the Scottish National Portrait Gallery. I lose myself in this painting time and time again too.
I was fortunate enough to get to experience a Jenny Saville exhibition with my mum in 2018, in such a rare and frankly unorthodox way. She had been in hospital for a weekend after becoming allergic to her cancer anti-nausea meds. Long story short, she was out her box on morphine but ready to be discharged. I went to take her home when she told me that she wanted to go and see the Jenny Saville exhibition. Now! I suggested we'd maybe be better going the next day but was instantly swayed when she said, and I directly quote here... 'Who knows when I'll get the chance to experience these paintings whilst I'm fleeing again'. My mum liked art, but she would often say she 'wished she understood it'. She knew these paintings were important to me... and I think she thought she'd gain a deeper understanding in her 'altered' state... so, off we went.
I'm still not sure I'd recommend taking anyone that's out of it on morphine to an art gallery. Having to remind her to stay back as she leaned ever closer to each canvas, the unfiltered comments that garnered many a strange look, but I do genuinely believe my mum gained the understanding she'd always had but never believed in that day. I'd love to actually know, first hand, what she experienced that day and how this experience differed from her previous unmedicated visit. It's one of the fondest memories I have with my mum and it's a story I love telling whenever anyone who visits my home asks why I have a row of such 'terrifying' prints framed pride of place in my living room.
Anyway, I'm glad your essay reminded me once again of this moment and I'm glad I got to write about it in an open comments section.
What a profoundly beautiful memory....thank you for sharing it so openly🙏🏼
There’s something deeply moving about the way you describe both your connection to Saville’s work and the experience of seeing it through your mum’s eyes, especially in that altered, almost dreamlike state. That moment feels like a rare kind of magic....the kind that art, in all its raw and visceral power, sometimes grants us when we least expect it.
Your mum’s desire to “experience the paintings while fleeing”....that line hit me in the chest. It holds so much: humor, mortality, urgency, and love. And in her way, she DID understand the art....maybe not in the way she thought one had to, but in the truest way possible: she felt it, let it in, let it move her. That’s the kind of understanding that doesn’t need translation.
The image of her leaning closer, so curious and unfiltered, surrounded by these towering, unapologetic canvases....it’s both tender and powerful. And now, every time someone comments on those “terrifying” prints, you get to honor her story and that moment you shared.
Thank you again for writing this. You’ve gifted something quietly extraordinary here 🖤