What it’s like to have your nude body auctioned for tens of millions

What it’s like to have your nude body auctioned for tens of millions

The Iconic Portrait and Its Anticipation

What it s like to have – On a recent afternoon in London, a massive 200-pound artwork dominated the scene. The piece, a striking portrayal of a nude figure, was carefully hoisted onto the wall by four men, its presence commanding attention in the hushed, reverent atmosphere of Sotheby’s gallery. The subject’s form, rendered in rich, layered oils, appeared almost monumental—like a mountain of flesh and shadow. A handful of individuals lingered in the room, including gallery staff and journalists, their murmurs of admiration blending with the soft click of heels and the rustle of fabric. Among them was a small, animated woman who raised her voice from the back: “Hello! I’m here in real life!” This was Sue Tilley, a retired benefits supervisor from St Leonards-on-Sea, the central figure in Lucian Freud’s 1996 masterpiece, “Sleeping by the Lion Carpet.” Her journey to the auction preview was both a personal milestone and a surreal encounter with her own image, which will soon be sold at a historic price.

Sue Tilley’s Perspective

Tilley, now in her 60s, greeted the room with a mix of pride and disbelief. The painting, described by Sotheby’s Europe chairman Olivier Barker as “the magnum opus of Lucian’s work,” is expected to command between £25-35 million ($33-45 million) at the Lewis Collection sale on 24 June. She chuckled at the thought of such a figure, recalling her modest compensation as a model in the 1990s. “I never really got any money,” she said, sitting across from her likeness. “It feels very weird.” Her laughter carried a wry edge, as if she were both bemused and amused by the transformation of her life into an art-world spectacle. “I think sometimes I’m probably worth about £100 million,” she mused, her voice tinged with disbelief. “How shocking is that!”

“I think sometimes I’m probably worth about £100 million. How shocking is that!”

The Legacy of Lucian Freud’s Work

Freud’s four portraits of Tilley—“Evening in the Studio” (1993), “Benefits Supervisor Resting” (1994), “Benefits Supervisor Sleeping” (1995), and “Sleeping by the Lion Carpet”—have already left their mark on art history. In 2008, the 1995 piece sold for $33.6 million at Christie’s in New York, becoming the most expensive work by a living artist at the time. A year later, the 1994 portrait surpassed that record, fetching $56.2 million in the same auction house. These staggering sums underscore the enduring fascination with Freud’s raw, unflinching style, which captures the intimate and visceral details of his subjects. Tilley’s repeated sessions with the artist, spanning the 1990s, were not just artistic collaborations but also personal moments. “It was a fantastic experience,” she said, reflecting on their time together. “We talked about everything—life, gossip, even horse racing.”

Leigh Bowery’s Role in the Collaboration

Freud’s connection to Tilley began through Leigh Bowery, the Australian performance artist and club culture icon who moved to London as a teenager with a hunger for artistic expression. Bowery, known for his provocative and avant-garde persona, became a close friend of Tilley after their meeting at nightclubs. The pair later worked together on several projects, including Tilley’s biography, which Bowery wrote in 2025. “He made a name for himself as being very outrageous,” Tilley recalled. “But deep down, he was a very normal person.” This duality of Bowery’s character mirrored Freud’s own approach to art: a surface that often defied convention, yet grounded in a deep emotional resonance. The mutual friend served as a bridge, introducing Tilley to the artist who would go on to create four iconic works of her.

“He made a name for himself as being very outrageous. But deep down, he was a very normal person.”

The Artistic Process and Personal Journey

Freud’s process was as intense as his art. Tilley’s sessions, often starting at 7:30 am, required her to endure long hours of posing, a task she approached with a mix of determination and trepidation. “I had never posed nude before,” she admitted. The experience was daunting, and Bowery’s guidance—“you have to do this, you have to do that”—instilled a sense of awe in her. Yet, when she finally met Freud, she found her own rhythm, often deviating from his instructions. “I think that’s why he liked me,” she said. “I disobeyed him the whole time.” This dynamic, a blend of submission and independence, became a hallmark of their creative partnership.

Freud’s studio was a world of its own, where the pace was relentless and the atmosphere heavy with intensity. Tilley described the environment as one that demanded focus and endurance, with the artist rarely taking breaks. “He’d be so thrilled when the phone rang,” she said, recalling the brief respite the interruptions provided. On occasion, she would drift into sleep during sessions, her dreams unfurling like fragments of another reality. “Sometimes I’d wake up and rise to my feet,” she added, “only to be scolded for napping.” Despite the rigors, the collaboration proved rewarding, and the final result—a painting that now sits at the center of an auction—was a testament to their bond.

From Muse to Market

The term “muse” has often been used to describe Tilley, a label she has come to resent. “I always think of a wafty kind of girl in love with the artist, sniffing smelling salts because she was about to pass out,” she said. This imagery contrasts sharply with her own experience, which was far more grounded. Tilley’s work with Freud was not a passive act of inspiration but a shared exploration of identity and emotion. “He painted the vulnerable nudes during the height of the extreme thinness trend,” she noted. “People like Kate Moss embodied that ‘heroin chic’ look, but it wasn’t about posing—it was about living.”

Tilley’s transformation from a regular clubber to a celebrated subject highlights the intersection of personal and artistic evolution. The 1996 painting, “Sleeping by the Lion Carpet,” is the culmination of years of interaction, capturing not just her physical form but the essence of her presence. As the auction approaches, the painting stands as a bridge between the past and the present, between the artist’s vision and the market’s valuation. “I never thought this would happen,” Tilley said, her voice a mix of nostalgia and wonder. “I just wanted to take off my clothes and have a drink with Lucian.”

The Unseen Cost of Fame

While the financial implications of the auction are undeniable, Tilley’s journey has been as much about self-discovery as it is about legacy. The time spent with Freud, often in solitude, allowed her to confront her own image in a way she never imagined. “He made me feel seen in a way that was both intimate and profound,” she reflected. “It wasn’t just about the art—it was about being part of something bigger.” Yet, the transition from private moment to public spectacle has not been without its complexities. “Now, I’m a piece of art,” she said, “and people are going to pay millions for it. It’s a bit like being on display in a museum, but with more money involved.”

As the Lewis Collection sale nears, the painting’s journey from Tilley’s life to the auction block serves as a reminder of the power of art to transcend time. The original painting, now a collector’s item, will be appraised in the context of its historical significance and market demand. “I’m just a normal person,” Tilley insisted, her words soft but resolute. “But I guess in Lucian’s world, I became something extraordinary.” The auction, therefore, is not just a sale of a portrait but a celebration of the human experience captured in oil and canvas, and the enduring impact of a relationship that defied