Frank Auerbach

Marlborough Fine Art, Ltd., London
Acquired directly from the above by the present owner in 2007

William Feaver, Frank Auerbach, New York 2009, p. 347, no. 940, illustrated in colour

The colours in the catalogue illustration are fairly accurate although the green tones are deeper and richer in the original and the illustration fails to convey fully the glossy quality of the paint surface. This work is in very good condition. No restoration is apparent under ultraviolet light.
"In response to your inquiry, we are pleased to provide you with a general report of the condition of the property described above. Since we are not professional conservators or restorers, we urge you to consult with a restorer or conservator of your choice who will be better able to provide a detailed, professional report. Prospective buyers should inspect each lot to satisfy themselves as to condition and must understand that any statement made by Sotheby's is merely a subjective, qualified opinion. Prospective buyers should also refer to any Important Notices regarding this sale, which are printed in the Sale Catalogue.
NOTWITHSTANDING THIS REPORT OR ANY DISCUSSIONS CONCERNING A LOT, ALL LOTS ARE OFFERED AND SOLD AS IS" IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE CONDITIONS OF BUSINESS PRINTED IN THE SALE CATALOGUE."

"Scooping globs of white, red, blue and yellow from 2.5-litre cans onto the paint trolley that serves as a palette, he takes a deep breath, dabs a brush into the paraffin tin, plunges it into the mound of red or yellow, squelches it into the white, and pushes it around until the blend looks right. Narrowing his eyes, he raises the brush, aims, and makes contact with the canvas. The beginnings are unformed; all that matters is to get the paint in play...Soon the canvas seethes. He blunders across the room to pick up a prepared square of newspaper and pat it into a woozy patch. Leaving it there like a tissue on a shaving cut, he takes a swig of cold coffee and turns to look in the mirror behind. Brushes accumulate, up to seven splayed between the fingers of his left hand.

'Take a rest' he says midway through. After seven seconds work resumes, in silence now, a silence punctuated with mutterings. 'Stupid.' 'That's right.' 'Good.' 'Lovely.' What to think about? Inevitably, while not nodding off, the mind takes to rummaging through memories. Occasionally there's a polite reprimand: 'Bill, have you moved slightly?''' (William Feaver, Frank Auerbach, New York 2009, pp. 21-2)