I posted this on the Guardian's comment page, and shared it with Painters Online: it's not that I think any words of mine deserve repetition, but it's as near as I can come to a memorial tribute to the greatest British artist of our time.
Well, I knew it had to happen - he fought back from a stroke a few years ago, but physically had been on a long decline; as an artist however, he could still surprise you (and how he revelled in it, quietly chuckling away as he took a long drag on a cigarette). What I valued about him was that he was never obedient - to rules of painting, societal expectations, received opinion; but he didn't break rules just for the sake of breaking them: he was never so predictable. Though he used modern methods and equipment, he still valued traditional techniques, as witness his comment that acrylic paint is often at its best when used for glazing, the application of transparent colours over opacity - an ancient technique, one facilitated by the fast-drying medium.
I don't know that his views on the camera obscura really add up, particularly when applied to Vermeer - but his pursuit of that opinion indicated his endless curiosity; and his courage in expressing it. I'm not sure that the book on which he collaborated added much to art history, since by definition its claims could not be proved. The point is, though, that in the end it doesn't matter - artists use tools of all kinds, are fully entitled to, and always have - the point lies in what they do with them; and as he tried everything he could lay hands on, he would have scorned the idea that some expressed at the time that this would have been "cheating", or that it in any way detracted from the reputation of artists who may have benefited from extraneous aids.




