Crispin Sturrock has thrown us headfirst into the wild, whiskey-soaked, utterly unrepentant life of British film icon Oliver Reed with his new work, Oliver Reed, 1968. This is more than a painting—it’s a love letter to a man who lived big, fought hard, drank harder, and never met a controversy he didn’t like. In this piece, Reed looms large, striding across a 1.5 x 1.5-meter canvas, clad in a slick pinstripe suit that’s as much armor as it is a fashion statement. Sturrock’s choice of a white, layered background, streaked with bold blues and reds, suggests both the raw purity and the carnage of Reed’s life—a canvas as fearless and freewheeling as the man himself.

Here’s the thing about Oliver Reed: He wasn’t just an actor; he was a force of nature. He burst onto the screen with the physicality of a gladiator and the charm of a devil. By 1968, he was a star, notorious for his roles in films like Oliver! (where he played the terrifying Bill Sikes) and The Jokers. But more than that, he was becoming the stuff of legend. Reed could reportedly down a bottle of vodka as if it were water and was infamous for his wild parties that spilled out of clubs and into the streets of Soho. His world was one of dangerous indulgence, defiant stunts, and a trail of bar fights that would make any tabloid editor’s dreams come true. And that’s what Sturrock is tapping into here.

#035 Oliver Reed 1968 2021

Acrylic and oilstick on canvas

150 x 150 cm / 59 x 59 inches

Sturrock’s canvas isn’t just a portrait—it’s a riff on Reed’s reputation, capturing his swagger, his intensity, and his vulnerability all in one. With that pinstripe suit and steely gaze, Reed looks like he’s daring you to look away, knowing you can’t. This wasn’t a guy who lived life quietly; he roared through it, whether he was wooing co-stars, challenging anyone within earshot to a drinking contest, or throwing himself into roles that took on a life of their own. Sturrock’s painting feels like an homage to that energy, to a man who was constantly pushing boundaries, on screen and off.

There’s something primal about Oliver Reed, 1968. The white background, layered and roughly textured, feels like it’s barely containing Reed’s raw charisma. The flashes of red and blue create a tension in the background, evoking the clash between his public persona—the ultimate British gentleman rogue—and the chaos of his private life. Reed was a walking paradox: disciplined in his craft, a wrecking ball in his off-hours. He’d take on roles that left audiences breathless and then make headlines for barroom brawls or outrageous stunts, as when he drunkenly arm-wrestled sailors in a Maltese pub while filming Gladiator—a stunt that ended up taking his life.

Crispin Sturrock gets it. He’s painted Reed not just as a man but as a myth, as a larger-than-life figure who transcended his films to become a symbol of reckless abandon, raw masculinity, and an uncontainable passion for life. In many ways, Reed embodied a kind of ‘60s British counterculture masculinity—a refusal to play by society’s rules, a life lived on the edge, untamed and unapologetic. Oliver Reed, 1968 feels like a time capsule from that era, drawing us back to a moment when Reed was at the height of his fame, when he was a symbol of everything exciting, dangerous, and seductive about British cinema.

But here’s what makes Sturrock’s work resonate beyond the iconography: there’s a respect, a kind of kinship between artist and subject. Crispin Sturrock is drawn to people like Reed—flawed, fascinating figures who loved deeply, drank heartily, and lived life with a kind of reckless joy that most of us only dream of. This painting isn’t about glamorising Reed’s excesses; it’s about honouring a man who lived life like it was meant to be devoured. Sturrock’s choice to paint Reed in 1968, the year he was ascending to full-fledged stardom, is telling. He captures Reed at his most potent, right at the edge of fame and infamy, just before the myth would begin to eclipse the man.

In Oliver Reed, 1968, Crispin Sturrock doesn’t hold back. He’s painted Reed as he was: defiant, intense, maybe a little tragic, but undeniably magnetic. And that’s what makes this piece so compelling. It’s not a simple portrait—it’s a tribute, a critique, and a celebration all at once. Reed might be gone, but in Sturrock’s hands, his spirit lives on, as wild and unrestrained as ever. So stand before this painting, and let Oliver Reed pull you into his world. It’s a world of grit, fire, and untamed energy, where life’s highs are high, the lows are legendary, and everything in between is just part of the ride.