Issue 13 / Summer 2008
Content:
- Editors' Note
- Brooks Adams on Boetti, Polke, Clemente and Taaffe
- Briony Llewellyn on British Orientalist Painting
- Max Kozloff on Street & Studio: An Urban History of Photography
- Four photographers on Street & Studio: An Urban History of Photography
- Sabine Rewald on Balthus
- Claire Daigle on Cy Twombly
- Herbert Lachmayer and Alfred Weidinger on Gustav Klimt
- Wilfried Dickhoff on Marcel Broodthaers
- John Onians and Eric Fernie on Neuroarthistory
- Christopher Miles on John Baldessari
- David Lewis on Ben Nicholson
- Pae White, Peter Schjeldahl, Vincent Katz and Mary Richards
- Hari Kunzru on King Mob
- ONLINE EXCLUSIVE: A History of the Vienna Secession
- POEM OF THE MONTH
- BOOKS ETC. Claire Nichols on Lawrence Weiner
- ONLINE EXCLUSIVE: Balthus - A Personal View

Poet Sue Hubbard
Each month, TATE ETC. publishes new poetry by leading poets such as John Burnside, Moniza Alvi, Adam Thorpe, Alice Oswald
and David Harsent who respond to works from the Tate Collection.
This June Sue Hubbard presents her poem, based on Lucian Freud’s Naked Portrait, 1972-3, previously on display at Tate Britain.
Context:
Listen to Sue Hubbard read her poem Subscribe to the Poem of the Month RSS feedVisit the Tate Collection for more than 65,000 works onlineNaked Portrait 1972-3
Lucian Freud
I know this room as well as any prisoner
Knows his cell, its harsh white pallor
Tingeing the calamine rawness
Of my skin infirmary green as pinioned
By his gaze I lie exposed across this
Old brass bed, drowned cadaver on
A mortician’s marble slab. Though I give
Everything I have, hold nothing back,
He barely sees me. A woman, a dog
For him they’re the same. At night
He breathes in my civet sweetness, by day
I’m an experiment in bald flesh;
Nipples, public hair, my open thighs
Terrain for his palette knife, the sable
Brushes discarded on a paint-clotted stool.
Crow-like he picks me clean.
My fan of fallen hair offers no protection
As he strips me bare, peels back my paper skin.
Outside his high windows
Camden is dark with winter rain;
Buses, taxis, cyclists
Swish through the glistening
Mica streets as if there was
Somewhere they needed to go.
© Sue Hubbard


