The Great Lucian

Although at one time in my life I collected beautiful paintings of the female form, I can’t profess to be an art critic or someone with enough historical knowledge to be able to cleverly assess the finer side of a painting or its outstanding technical excellence.

Lucian Freud, whose paintings sell for vast sums of money at auctions, is no doubt a genius of some sort but I fail to be carried away by his vision of the human form which I find, in most cases, bereft of any beauty and rather horribly distorted. I could not live with that concept despite its impact, which to my mind stresses more the ugly side of things, transforming beauty into something invariably repugnant.

He often depicted very attractive women in real life, disparaging them, and failing to show their delicate feminine depths; as if the artist had turned ambiguity into a kind of escapism so as to avoid accepting his model’s natural state of bewitching sensuality.

Novelist Julian Barnes, whose talent and sensibility I respect, reviewing two recent works on Freud has written in the latest London Review of Books: ‘His pictures of naked women are not in the least pornographic: nor are they ever erotic. It would be a very disturbed schoolboy who successfully masturbated to a book of Freud nudes.’

I couldn’t agree more. I’m certain, in my youthful vigour, I would never have achieved an erection looking at a Lucian nude, let alone venture to play with myself. Rather, such images would have frightened the life out of me, imagining myself in congress with any of his sitters, if they looked as he had painted them in real life.

I can well understand the surge of the blood vessels to achieve orgasm when even admiring a panoramic view of exquisite and captivating beauty, as was the case with Sir Kenneth Dover, one of the foremost classical scholars of his generation. When I interviewed him in 1998, I asked him about an occasion in 1944, mentioned in his autobiography, when he was so struck by the beauty at the top of an Italian hill, south of Mignano, that he sat down on a log and masturbated; something which he described as ‘the appropriate response’.

I added: ‘Would you say it was principally an aesthetic response or was it more biological or what?’

‘Goodness knows,’ was his reply. ‘All I know is that it wasn’t unique because since my book appeared I’ve heard of other people having similar experiences. It seemed to strike one reviewer as very odd indeed, but it isn’t as odd as all that.’

Which only goes to show that most people are entranced by beauty and seldom by ugliness. Lucian Freud can best be classed as the great arbiter of portraiture deformity, which he saw as perhaps the ultimate in sexual exploration.

Riad Nourallah and His Evocation of Gibran

Riad Nourallah is a brilliant academic. He’s the Director of Research at the London Academy of Diplomacy, University of East Anglia. He has an MA in English Literature from the American University of Beirut and a PhD from Cambridge University.

I first met him about four years ago and since that most promising encounter Quartet published two of his books. The first was The Death of Almustafa, where the hero of Gibran’s The Prophet lives again.

In a dramatic and rich narrative, Almustafa faces up to his mortality and to questions on life and death put to him by the people of Orphalese, a metaphor for America.

In the course of this great challenge, Almustafa is buffeted by memories of his past and torn between his own fear of death and his undying faith in the resilience and endurance of life. His responses celebrate life and art in their infinite manifestations, offering a message of courage and hope.

Daring and thoughtful, the book serves as an eternal and poetic testament to Almustafa’s universal and practical wisdom.

Since Gibran has always been my unparalleled hero, I felt the book more than paid credit to the memories and genius of the man who is worshipped throughout the cultural world for his wisdom and deep perceptions of human frailties in a light and dimension seldom perceived by others.

Although the book was hardly reviewed at the time of its publication in 2010, I believe that its full worth and impact, as with other great books, will in generations to come gain its true acknowledgement as a work of great creativity to which Gibran himself, were he living, would no doubt give it his seal of approval.

If you happen to be a Gibran disciple, then Nourallah’s book is a masterful study you can ill afford to ignore.

Earlier this year we published Nourallah’s second book, King.

Thought for the Day

Has fashion gone wrong? Or is it in the throes of a revolutionary new direction where catering for less material and more flesh exposure is market-driven, as sex has become a gold commodity to entice a new generation of women who will bare almost all to be noticed?

Although seduction has always been at the core of fashion since its early inception, it has of late flourished, as unfettered women shed their inhibitions and seem happy to reveal their most intimate parts to outdo the competitive edge of their rivals.

As a man who revels in the exquisite feminine form and the creative beauty of its concept, I cannot but simply applaud this variation on a theme that fashion has found to be daringly inventive and more commercially desirable. Designers are now having a field day in nurturing their most hidden artistic gifts without the conventional parameters of bygone days that hindered the scope of their unbridled talent.

The forbidden fruit is emerging at long last as the catalyst for change. Even today’s young royals are doing a Marilyn Monroe number to demonstrate to their peers they are as fashionable and risqué as any celebrity around. That in itself proves that fashion has not gone wrong. It has in fact adopted a new trend that will perhaps evolve in time to be the norm, and less shocking than some of us believe.

In the meantime, it is cause for celebration for most men who will no doubt be in raptures for having witnessed this Rabelaisian mood gripping the very fabric of society.

Vive la revolution and let’s go to bed contented!

Keep Right on to the End of the Road

I have always pondered why some books receive the attention of the media while others are totally ignored despite their topicality.

Having now been an active publisher since 1976, I’m still baffled to know the basis whereby consistency is abandoned by the Establishment at will, due to a variety of factors – some political, others to avoid the wrath of powerful lobbyists who somehow ‘rule the roast’.

In the mid 1970s, and until very recently, if a controversial book was published an outcry would follow. It was normally expressed in the media which had the effect of bringing the subject to the fore, no matter how detrimental the reaction happened to generate.

In that period Quartet was hounded by the press for daring to show the Palestinian side of the Arab-Israeli conflict. We were simply motivated by our desire to redress the balance. At that time, the Israeli point of view was predominate and had political clout as well as hordes of sympathisers from all walks of life, whereas the Palestinians were discarded and not considered worthy of any special attention. But at least the outcry catapulted their plight, perhaps not meaning to, and gave the subject a media prominence that in a way achieved our objective.

But now a much more powerful and sinister weapon has emerged. If a book by consensus is to be banished by those who object to its publication, a wall of silence follows. No mention of its existence is ever pronounced and no reviews undertaken so as to kill it stone dead…and, believe it or not, it does. The bookshops, as a result, refuse to take the book for what they maintain is its lack of publicity, and no matter what effort the publisher exerts, its destiny is invariably the dreaded pulping machine.

How do we combat the suppression to express one’s views as a contribution to a civilised debate – the core of any enlightened democracy. Or does the power of the few, who control every aspect of our lives by sheer financial monopoly of a system, make democracy more of a cover-up rather than the sacred cow some allude to? The old school tie has never ceased to prevail. We are still a divided society where class is paramount and where the practice of favouritism is high on the agenda of those who govern us.

Will we ever change? I doubt it. As food for thought, however, it is perhaps the best I can expect from this short diatribe triggered off by a rebellious nature that’s trying to cause a flutter or two, even as a life’s journey is reaching its ebbing years.

A Woman a Week

As a consummate watcher of Strictly Come Dancing I was rather disappointed and upset when Rachel Riley, one of my favourite contestants, was the fifth celebrity to be voted off in this year’s series after losing in the dance-off to another favourite of mine, the delectable Abbey Clancy, less than a month ago.

Since I watch television very rarely during the week, as I go to bed early in order to maintain my routine of rising at 5 am, I did not know who Rachel was but nevertheless marvelled at her fresh-looking personality and her most attractive features. She moved gracefully on the dance floor and had a certain natural élan that in essence I found beguiling.

Later I was to discover that beneath her outward pleasant looks she is a brainbox and a television co-presenter of Countdown. At twenty-seven she seems to have scaled the heights of early success as maths expert with a television presence of some magnitude.

Riley, who replaced the formidable Carol Vorderman on the popular Channel 4 daytime show in 2009, has now left her husband, Jamie Gilbert, just over a year after they married in August 2012, in front of guests including Nick Hewer, her Countdown co-host.

This is not the first time a Strictly contestant has announced the end of their relationship shortly after appearing on the BBC1 show. In July, Denise van Outen, last year’s runner-up, revealed that her four-year marriage to Lee Mead, an actor, was over, and Brendon Cole, a professional dancer, left his partner of eight years, Camilla Dallerup, after appearing with Natasha Kaplinsky, the newsreader.

Flavia Cacace, an ex-Strictly dancer dated Matt Di Angelo, a former EastEnders actor, after being partnered with him and shortly ending an eleven-year relationship with show co-star Vincent Simone.

Earlier this year, Flavia announced her engagement to her 2010 dancing partner, the actor Jimi Mistry. Mr Gilbert, thirty-one, Rachel’s husband, is ‘distraught and stunned’, a family friend told the Sun newspaper. ‘He has no idea where this has come from. Rachel just told him they had grown apart.’

I can well understand his great sorrow at her desertion. She seems a young jewel whose loss will be shattering to any man, let alone one who had the good fortune of being her husband and lover. It seems the show’s romantic ‘curse’ has yet again struck, to cause havoc to two people whose lives will now change forever.

Notwithstanding this twist of fate, women are to be worshipped despite their being unpredictable treasures who sometimes cause pain and heartache in equal measure. For damnation often follows a period dotted with moments of ecstasy and sensual gratification. The experience is a learning curve that makes life a perpetual challenge, keeping the heartbeat in good shape and our minds alert and responsive.

Isabella Blow

I first met Isabella Blow in 1984 at a private viewing of Edwina Sandy’s paintings in New York, where a coterie of young ladies, the likes of Emma Gilbey, Charlotte Dugdale, Bettina von Hase and a score of other desirable young women adorned the party circuit and never failed to give proceedings a certain cachet.

Notable among them was the irrepressible Isabella Blow, an icon of the avant-garde arbiters of taste who marvelled at her talent for innovation in style and fashion. Whatever was most outrageous from art’s viewpoint she made her own and did it with such flare that she was often the main topic of conversation at the soirées attended by the new breed of young men and women who had found early fame and riches. She had a contagious kind of exuberance that was partly overwhelming with eccentricity as her trademark.

In 2007, the news of Isabella Blow’s suicide at the age of forty-eight made headlines around the world. But there is more to the story of Isabella than her tragic end. The key supporter and muse of the milliner Philip Treacy and designer Alexander McQueen, Blow was also credited with launching the careers of so many successful models including Stella Tennant and Sophie Dahl. Yet to the many people whose lives she touched, she was more than a muse or a patron. She was a spark, an electrical impulse that set imaginations racing, an individual who pushed others to create their best work.

Isabella Blow was born in a rarefied world of nannies and sprawling country estates at a time when the British aristocracy was finding it difficult to maintain its historically lavish lifestyle. Her fascination with clothing began early, as did her willingness to wear things, say things, and do things that would amuse and shock. She began her fashion career in New York City as an assistant to Anna Wintour at Vogue. There, Isabella told friends, she believed she had found a place where she really belonged, a place that could fill the gap left by a tragic family history. Before long she had returned to London and was overseeing photo shoots at Tatler, British Vogue and the Sunday Times, launching the trend of aristocrats as models, and pushing the bounds of convention in her increasingly provocative fashion spreads.

Over time she became famous for her work, yet it wasn’t enough to assuage her devastating feelings of inadequacy. And yet, within darkest moments – which included a series of suicide attempts and prolonged hospital stays – Blow retained her wicked sense of humour, making her friends laugh even as they struggled to help.

Lauren Goldstein Crow, who has written about the fashion industry for more than a decade, has crafted a superbly entertaining narrative wrapping anecdotes of Isabella’s antics around a candid, insightful portrayal of a woman whose thirst for the fantastical ultimately became irreconcilable with life in the real world.

‘To tell the story – the times, the impact, the inspiration, the misery, the dreams, the allure – of Isabella you’d think you would need 100 writers, but Lauren Goldstein Crowe has been able to tell us all this in one very good book’ Valentino

‘A beautiful journey through Isabella’s creative life’ Manolo Blahnik

‘A triumphant portrait of the Isabella I knew and loved’ Philip Treacy

It’s a book that lovers of fashion cannot be without. Isabella Blow: Fashion Galore!, showing at Somerset House until March next year, is indeed a tribute to the richness of her talent and to her great contribution to the artistic endeavour of the nation.