I recently visited a small exhibition of charcoal drawings by Frank Auerbach. (The Courtauld, London until 27 May)

‘I feel there is no grander entity than the human being… I would like my work to stand for individual experience.’

The show presents large-scale portraits of the artist’s friends and lovers, and of himself - mysterious heads that loom out of the darkness, mournful and sad. Auerbach seems to be reflecting on the riddle of presence and existence; on the enigma of individual identity. And he teaches us a lesson about persistence in the quest for excellence.

'I am not interested in making pretty pictures, I want to make something that has impact, that leaves a lasting impression.'

Born in Berlin in 1931, when Auerbach was seven years old he was sent to Britain to escape Nazi persecution. His parents were subsequently killed at Auschwitz.

During his early years as an artist in post-war London, Auerbach produced a series of portraits in charcoal. This material offered a sharp edge with which to draw fine lines, and a soft texture which could be smudged and blurred. He spent months on each drawing, working and reworking it during numerous sessions with the sitter. He rubbed his pictures with his fingers, scrubbed them with a rag, scoured them with a hard typewriter eraser. Every morning the image would be reborn from the ghost of yesterday’s portrait, only to die again later that night. The paper became scuffed and thin, torn and worn through, and he repaired it repeatedly with paper patches - creating the impression of wounds and scars.

‘I don’t think one produces a great picture unless one destroys a good one in the process. And one doesn’t make a great picture by destroying a rotten one.’

When eventually Auerbach determined he was done, he would sometimes finish the work with a flourish of white, blue or red chalk.

'I get the courage to do the improvisation only at the end.’

The portraits, contoured and layered, have a haunted quality. Gloomy eyes, furrowed brows, heads turned down and to one side. These are sombre, melancholy figures, present and yet absent. They have been created in war-battered London, in a world overshadowed by the Holocaust.

'There was a sense of survivors scurrying around a ruined city.’

Auerbach’s Penelopean making and unmaking of his art seems somewhat obsessive. It must have been challenging for his sitters. But he was driven by a clear purpose; by a strong sense of working towards something more truthful.

‘To paint the same head over and over leads to unfamiliarity; eventually you get near the raw truth about it.’

Auerbach was a perfectionist. Sometimes, on seeing photographs of his pictures in exhibitions, he would ask for them to be returned so that he could make adjustments. He believed that he had to struggle if he was to create works that were genuinely fresh and distinctive.

‘What I’m trying to make is a stonking, independent, coherent image that has never been seen before… [that] stalks into the world like a new monster.’

We may think Auerbach’s perfectionism - his creative destruction - inappropariate to the world of commercial creativity. Clients need to be met. Deadlines need to be hit. Budgets need to be respected. Surely sometimes we must be happy with ‘good enough.’

Yet I’m reminded of my experiences back in the day at BBH, when Creative Director John Hegarty would pass over countless scripts because they were not quite what he had in mind; not sufficiently compelling or different. (I kept in my filing cabinet a stack of unpresented, unproduced Levi’s scripts, imagining that one day this goldmine of creativity would come in useful.)

Hegarty was insistent on quality. He would not give up too soon; would not settle for less. And he was wont to say, many a time and oft’: ‘The good is the enemy of the great.’

It’s always worth being reminded that, in the face of pragmatism and practicality, when confronted with challenging budgets and pressing timelines, we should go the extra mile - if we truly want to achieve something distinctive, memorable and worthwhile; if we ever hope to create our own ‘new monsters.’

'I don't want half-hearted love affairs.
I need someone who really cares.
Life is too short to play silly games.
I have promised myself I won't do that again.
It’s got to be perfect.
It's got to be worth it.
Too many people take second best.
Well I won't take anything less.
It's got to be
Perfect.’

Fairground Attraction. ‘Perfect’ (T Shapiro / S Evans / T Martin)

No 459