How Freud, Yeo Hung Me on National Portrait Gallery Wall

This is becoming a habit, or at least an annual event. Another year, and once more I find myself hanging in the National Portrait Gallery.

This has nothing to do with fame or achievement on my own part, I hasten to say. It’s just that I appear to have become a regular subject for artists, just like apples in a bowl or a fish on a plate. Or, to put it differently, being painted is the natural result of knowing painters.