As usual Lewis Mueller up on Barkly corner waiting to cross at the lights. Not a pretty picture carrying that almost perfect O mouth agape, as if gripped by a sight up on the hill. Could a keen-eyed prize-winning portraitist entirely miss that signature visual of himself? We can never see ourselves, a wise old duck once said, one who in her own time had been a great beauty. Discovering that fact about the lady only when she was in her late 70s came as a great surprise. Former beauties you assumed acted and deported themselves quite differently and could be easily discerned. Like any portraitist, Lew M had studied his own reflection, without any hint in those works of that habitual, affrighted Munch pose.
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