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Francis Bacon stands out as one of the most renowned postwar painters. His trauma fueled his emotions, crafting a disturbing world filled with dark, distorted figures. Yet, the same existential angst gives shape to his art. Explore with us ten of Francis Bacon’s paintings that uncover the depth of his artistry.
Although it is one of Francis Bacon’s less popular paintings today, Crucifixion was his first painting to capture public attention. Deviating from its association with religious belief, the motif of crucifixion is treated as an “armature” for feelings and sensations. The almost translucent whiteness in the painting possesses a ghostly quality that amplifies the unsettling nature of the piece. Both combine to create a powerful visual impact. Bacon may have drawn inspiration from Rembrandt‘s Slaughtered Ox (c. 1638), one of his favorite works.
Critics and viewers initially found the painting compelling, but their interest quickly faded. In the weeks that followed, public opinion shifted. Bacon took it to heart and stopped painting for nearly a decade. Regardless, Crucifixion marked the beginning of Bacon’s exploration of fear and pain in his art.
Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion established Bacon’s breakthrough as a chronicler of the stark human condition. The painting draws from various sources, including Picasso‘s biomorphs, interpretations of the crucifixion, and the Greek Furies. As Bacon’s first mature work, the triptych stirred a sensation upon its debut in 1945. It earned him a reputation as the postwar painter to watch.
During the 1940s, Bacon immersed himself in the works of T. S. Eliot and Aeschylus. The latter’s Oresteia, a tale of tragedy and revenge featuring the Greek Furies, profoundly influenced the work. The vivid orange background is set against stone-colored figures resembling human forms in a haunting and unsettling composition. These creatures evoke the Furies, who were thought to be agents of vengeance.
If the painting conveys a symbolism, then it will be humanity’s tendency to self-destruct and its possible fate in the era of global conflicts. Recognizing the significance of this work, Eric Hall purchased the painting and eventually presented it at the Tate Gallery.
Following his earlier success, Bacon created Painting, another piece that captivated the art world. Originally about a bird alighting on a field, the end product transformed into an unsettling assemblage of meat carcasses. The piece features layers that blend together. Far behind are the outstretched wings of a skeletal bird at the top, perching above a hanging carcass—another nod to Rembrandt. In the foreground, a well-dressed man sits under an umbrella in a circular enclosure adorned with more bones and yet another carcass.
Bacon first exhibited this painting in 1946 at several group shows, including the British section of the Exposition Internationale d’Art Moderne in Paris. Following this exposure, it was sold to the Hanover Gallery. The commission allowed Bacon to relocate to Monte Carlo. He would only briefly return to London in the following years.
While living in Monte Carlo, Bacon frequented the Casino de Monte Carlo. With gambling, he got into debt. At one point, he could barely afford a new canvas, which led him to paint on the raw, unprimed side of his earlier works—a practice he maintained throughout his life. In the end, Painting was sold from Hanover Gallery to Alfred Barr, the curator of MoMA, for £240.
It is important to note that Bacon was a bon viveur. Despite his grim outlook on life, he was articulate and well-read. In Paris, he encountered French postwar painting and Existentialism. By 1946, he had befriended painter Isabel Rawsthorne, who introduced him to Alberto Giacometti, among other artists and intellectuals of the Left Bank. Bacon shared many interests with this circle, including ethnography and classical literature. All these enriched his artistic perspective.
For all their nastiness and brutality, there is something undeniably beautiful, even serene in these paintings. (…) Bacon (…) achieved a kind of lyricism that makes even his most horrific subjects compatible with the drawing rooms in which many of them hung. Backgrounds of boudoir pink, persimmon lilac and aqua combine with the calligraphic grace of his fleshy figures in images of stylized elegance.
“Art Institute Takes Walk on Dark Side“, Star Tribune, April 9th, 1999, p. 68. Newspapers.com
Bacon came out as gay at a young age. As a child, he enjoyed dressing up. His father found him wearing his mother’s underwear and admiring himself in the mirror one day. Beating him up, he kicked young Bacon out of the house. The heartlessness of the person he was allegedly attracted to became, for Bacon, part of an especially painful memory.
After moving to London, Bacon realized he no longer had to hide his identity; he could celebrate it. This expression came through his painting Two Figures, which created quite a stir as a personal declaration of homosexuality. The figures drew from anatomical studies and Eadweard Muybridge’s motion photography. The painting then defined motion as both bodily pleasure and the ideal of love.
While the figures are partly obscured by straight lines that, in reverse, enhance the composition’s dynamism, the painting implies rather dark and unsettling tones. The colors suggest a disturbing encounter, and the figures are distorted to look like pieces of meat. Many believed Bacon had masochistic tendencies likely caused by his father’s abusive behaviors. This traumatic relationship was said to have affected him throughout his life. Bacon had many complicated relationships with older men. As a result, Two Figures is believed to reflect Bacon’s sexual encounters that turned out to have a lasting impact.
The 1960s was a decade of crucifixion-themed works and portraits of friends. Notably, Three Studies for a Crucifixion established Bacon’s preeminence among contemporary British painters. The same work also coincided with a period of personal loss, during which Bacon witnessed the deaths of his closest friends.
This painting was featured in his retrospective at Tate in May of that year. At the opening, he heard the news that Peter Lacy, one of his first lovers, had passed away in Tangier. Consequently, the free-flowing oil colors became his way of expressing his anger, horror, degradation, and sorrow.
In 1963, the 54-year-old Francis Bacon met George Dyer in a pub, and they hit it off right away. At that time, Dyer was 30 and came from a criminal family. His life had revolved around theft and imprisonment. In contrast, Bacon’s previous relationships had been with older, tumultuous men. For instance, Bacon’s relationship with Peter Lacy was intense but also toxic and abusive. Lacy would tear up Bacon’s paintings, and during his drunken rages, he beat Bacon so severely that he sometimes left him half-conscious on the streets.
However, things were different with George Dyer. Bacon found himself in the dominant position. Attracted to Dyer’s insecurities and trusting nature, Bacon took on the role of protector. The Portrait of George Dyer Crouching reveals such a romantic quality. Dyer’s role is encapsulated through the embryonic form, while his vulnerability is highlighted by the figure kneeling precariously on a ledge. The circular sofa represents Bacon’s protective embrace. Overall, the colors are light and subdued, except for the green and red highlights that reveal the figure’s inner turmoil, as it looks downward into a central abyss—a depiction of Dyer’s addiction to alcohol and drugs.
By the mid-1960s, Dyer had become the dominant figure in Bacon’s paintings. Bacon described this time as a “brief interlude between life and death.” Initially, the artist’s circle of intellectuals and fellow artists appreciated Dyer’s freshness and novelty. However, this enthusiasm gradually faded, as Dyer displayed poor manners and bitterness towards them. He didn’t even pretend to appreciate or understand the paintings, despite enjoying the fame and attention that came with being Bacon’s muse.
While leaving his criminal life behind, Dyer developed an even deeper addiction to alcohol. When sober, he was distant and reserved, while his drunken moments turned aggressive. He frequently used Bacon’s money to indulge his wide circle of acquaintances with expensive dinners, further alienating Bacon’s associates in the art world. They began to view Dyer as an unwelcome intrusion into the realm where the Bacon they knew thrived. In response to this shift in perception, Dyer grew increasingly needy and dependent. By 1971, he found himself drinking alone in bars, with only occasional communication with Bacon.
This portrait exemplifies Bacon’s artistic evolution. The heavy brush strokes and impasto technique contrast with delicate impressions of corduroy and cloth. Trails of paint are squeezed directly from the tube onto the canvas. Meanwhile, the background lacks depth; it appears flat and features a neutral color.
In October 1971, Bacon invited Dyer to his retrospective exhibition at the Grand Palais in Paris. At that time, the artist’s career was at its peak. His relationship with Dyer was in free fall. In a desperate attempt to regain Bacon’s attention, Dyer planted cannabis in Bacon’s room in London, hoping to get police involvement. He also attempted suicide. Bacon would leave the room they share in Paris and return the following morning, on October 24th, only to discover Dyer dead in the bathroom after a drink and barbiturate overdose.
Bacon acted incredibly dissociated after the event. He continued the exhibition as planned. However, only those close to him understood the depth of his pain. Alongside Dyer, Bacon had lost four other friends and his beloved nanny. Death had invaded his personal life and haunted his work.
In the months that followed, Bacon experienced several physical and emotional breakdowns. He simultaneously commemorated and externalized his relationship with Dyer. The darkest and most somber of these is the Triptych May-June, which reenacts Dyer’s death and the moments leading up to and following his parting. From that point on, Bacon’s art grew darker and more introspective. Time and mortality were the themes Bacon constantly parsed.
During the 1980s, Bacon shifted towards a more technical approach. With several self-portraits, he refined his technique and began experimenting with aerosol paint. One of those is the triptych Study for a Self-Portrait. In this stage, Bacon’s works became more textured. He produced gauzy surfaces that hint at bruising and medical trauma. His color schemes gradually transitioned from vibrant reds and hot oranges to cooler tones of gray, beige, and cream. Reflecting on his move to self-portraits, Bacon remarked:
I’ve done a lot of self-portraits, really because people around me have been dying like flies and I’ve nobody else left to paint but myself. (…) I loathe my own face, but I go on painting it only because I haven’t got any other people to do.
David Sylvester, The Brutality of Fact, Interviews with Francis Bacon, London 1975, pp. 129-133
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