As we unravel the lesser-known facets of Souza’s personal life, we move beyond the Enfant terrible label often attached to him. Offering an intimate glimpse of the man behind the masterpieces—we see a portrait of a doting father, hunched over his desk. He wields his quill gently; unlike the bold, urgent strokes of his brush. His ink spills onto his letters, lined with affection and longing, as he writes to his daughter Keren, “Lots of love and kisses. Write me.”
Courtesy: Keren SouzaKohn
For Souza, letter writing was a way to stay tethered to his roots and the people he held dear. This comes as no surprise, given his reputation as a remarkable writer—one who earned critical acclaim early in his career for his 1955 autobiographical essay Nirvana of a Maggot and later for his semi-autobiographical work, Words and Lines, first published in London in 1959. Souza remained devoted to the written word, exchanging letters with his children, former partners, and friends throughout his life. In Souza’s letters to Keren, we see a tenderness overshadowed by his public persona —a father’s warmth woven into words, a quiet counterpoint to the bold defiance of his art. In these pages, perhaps, lies the truest portrait of the man behind the canvas.
Courtesy: Keren SouzaKohn
Yet, beyond his words, there were moments of unspoken connection—memories etched not in ink but in paint. Keren recalls watching her father at work, the intimate rituals of his creative process, and the small, shared moments that found their way onto his canvases.
Courtesy: Keren SouzaKohn
He often painted sitting on his haunches, with the canvas on the floor in front of him.
(Keren SouzaKohn)
F.N. Souza, Two Saints in a Landscape, 1961
One example is a painting in the Tate, Two Saints in a Landscape. My dad painted that during a couple of summers, we spent in Valldemossa, a small village in Majorca. I was three or four years old, sitting next to him, and I told him the woman in the painting was going to get cold, so he added a tunic to her. If you x-ray the painting, you might find a layer without the tunic! It was a very special memory.
(Keren SouzaKohn)
Dear Karen, Francesca, and Anya, this is your daddy speaking from New York. I am on top of the Empire State Building, which is the highest building in the world. It has 102 floors and is 1,250 feet high. Wish you were all up here with me. It is very bright and sunny, and New York is a fantastic and fabulous city full of life and fun. When you are all grown up, you can come to America and visit me. There are lots of supermarkets here with lots of goodies to eat and lots of toys and lots of too much of everything. But there aren't any banana skins on the street for fat men and fat women to slip on if they aren't wearing… on the way or trip on if they are in a hurry.Cheerio now and lots of love from you…your darling daddy. And lots and lots of love to you, bits of love to you.
Transcript of F.N. Souza’s voice recording to Keren SouzaKohn from New York
