Francis Bacon and the Physics of Life

By MELANIE DESLIENS February 12, 2025

So much has been written about the painter Francis Bacon that exploring his work can sometimes feel daunting amid the many fantasies the artist has inspired in the public's imagination. Bacon’s existence in the new media era—giving numerous press and television interviews—is both a gift and a curse. While those interviews provide valuable insights into the artist's technique and interpretation of his work, they also extensively delve into his personal life, leading to analyses that the artist fervently resisted.

Indeed, while many journalists and art critics consistently used Bacon’s eccentric lifestyle to analyze and infer dramatic or even violent attributes in his work; the painter himself claimed to simply depict life in an almost surgical or scientific manner, rejecting narrative. To understand this, an intriguing approach may be to explore the concept that Bacon referred to as the "nervous system." This concept was central to his work, allowing him to create life in the most realistic way.

Triptych August 1972 by Francis Bacon. Tate Britain,1972

To grasp Bacon’s approach to painting, a closer look at the piece Triptych August 1972 currently exposed at the British Tate Museum, might facilitate one’s immersion into his work. The art piece is monumental, each of the three panels measures 1,981 × 1,473 mm (6.5 x 4.9 feet). Both right and left panels show an isolated nude seated male figure wearing only white underwear, each with a leg crossed over the other. These two lifesize figures could be of Bacon's former lover George Dyer, who died tragically in Paris in 1971 and was one of Bacon’s muses. A picture of Dyer by British photographer John Deakin (1912-1972) was found in Bacon's studio after his death and seems to be the inspiration for the triptych. The black and white photograph shows Dyer in the exact same seated position (wearing same white underwear) with the same tumefied face (such as a boxer’s), sitting on a chair in the middle of Bacon's messy studio[1].

George Dyer Seated in Underwear in Francis Bacon's Studio by Deakin John. The Dublin City Gallery. The Hugh Lane, 1965.

On Triptych August 1972 middle panel, a new strange figure appears and seems to be inspired by the famous 1887 black and white photograph Two Men Wrestling by British photographer Eadweard Muybridge's; a subject that Bacon had already explored in prior paintings where two bodies merge into one in a fight or an intercourse. These photographs-sources were essential to what Bacon called the “nervous system”. Bacon fed his creativity with images as documents, without distinction or value judgement. The photographs he selected as inspiration had in common that “one can feel the shadow of life passing through.”[2]

Two Men Wrestling by Muybridge Eadweard. From 'Animal Locomotion'. Private Collection, 1887

The painting’s composition set the stage, it is balanced with very defined geometric graphics of flat application of paint, black rectangles, and black triangles that mirror each other, not unlike classical "repoussoirs". Dyer's crossed leg creates a type of wing on each side of the composition that helps keep the viewer’s eye in. The large black solid rectangular doors on all panels create a rhythm on the overall composition. They also create deep voids that completely consume part of Dyer's middle body on the left panel. From Deakin's photograph, one can see that Bacon used the original natural shadows and stretched them to envelop Dyer's middle torso.

As the viewer's eye rests on the figures in Triptych August 1972, a strong sense of vertigo emerges. Dyer's figures could be reminiscent of Ragdoll Physics, a type of animation used in video games and animated films. In the late 90s, video games began to introduce classical mechanics and inverse kinematics (calculations of poses and rotations of a figure), making body movements look more realistic and human-like when a character dies. It showed how a body falls and reacts to its immediate environment when it loses life.

Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six: Vegas, published by Ubisoft, 2006

Dyer's figures on both left and right panels do exactly that. While they are fixed figures, our human brain anticipates how gravity will lead the body into its fall. For example, the left figure sits on what seems to be an unstable chair (one of the chair legs is too short and dissolving onto the canvas). Dyer's body is tilted to the right, and his body mass will naturally make him fall to the right end of the panel. The oblique lines and tilted floor contribute to the falling sensations and movements. The oblique brushstrokes on Dyer's face create a wind effect, brushing his face and chest forward and wrapping around his shoulders like apparent wind (versus true wind). As Dyer seems to fall, his hair flies backward on his head and face. The ragdoll physics effect also comes into play when what appears to be a random oblique (barely visible) white line creates a counterforce and pushes the body back into place. Indeed, Dyer's figure responds to its environment, as the invisible forces first pull him into a fall and then violently push him right back to his chair.

There is also a dichotomy between life and death, both unfolding at the same time in Dyer’s body. On the one hand, Dyer’s face is peaceful with closed, tumefied eyes, and his weak mouth is slightly open on the left panel, reminiscent of an old person struggling to breathe on their deathbed. As an asthmatic, Bacon can easily convey the horrifying sensation of an obstructed, difficult breath. The dark void has even consumed his lungs away and part of his throat. During an asthma attack, the body tends to go into panic mode, but here, the lack of air contrasts sharply with the relaxed and serene pose of the body. Additionally, the peaceful expression on Dyer’s face conflicts with Dyer’s strong, muscular, and upright body posture on the chair, which is full of life and dignity. His head is poised gracefully, his face is angular and graphical like a Picasso. The light glistens on top of the strong, aquiline nose and forehead, between his thick eyebrows. Dyer’s body is young and athletic, suggesting that he died young, in the prime of his life.
 

Close up of Dyer’s face Triptych August 1972 left panel

Similarly, opposing forces are displayed on the right panel, where Dyer appears to be sleeping peacefully with his head tilted, seated on his chair with closed eyes. However, his mouth is violently distorted by forces seemingly inspired by 1950s videos of high-speed close-ups of a man's distorted face in a G-force experiment in a wind tunnel[3]. Still shots from these films were also used by artist Eduardo Paolozzi to create a collage titled Windtunnel Test, Bacon might have had a copy of the piece in his studio[4]. French philosopher Gilles Deleuze compares these opposing forces in the body to hysterical "sleeps" and "awakenings" and qualifies Triptych August 1972 as Bacon's most deeply musical paintings.[5]

Windtunnel Test by Paolozzi Eduardo. Tate Collection, 1950

Life is apparent through the paint itself. The three figures are highly detailed with many colors and light variations. There is a 3D effect on the warm pink skin, in sharp contrast with the flat black background, which brings Dyer’s figures closer to the viewer. The skin’s texture shows painterly brushstrokes and thick white impasto in places for light effects or a bone coming through the skin. There are red applications of paint on Dyer’s thigh, where the muscle is strong and deep, and the blood seems to flow vividly, with darker pink and purple where the shadows appear. The skin feels warm and lively, turning orange in some places, even peach in the pool of skin, with lilac and greys for shadows.

Close up of Dyer’s thigh Triptych August 1972 left panel

The same color variations are visible on the center panel, where two bodies are melting onto each other. Some parts of their nudity can still be identified, like the buttocks and lower legs, possibly inspired by Femme Couchée by Picasso, 1932 [6]. They become one, and the image is highly sexualized, with forces and movements once again animating the figure. Bacon even added a white turning arrow on the calf muscle and a thick impasto turning brush stroke at the figure’s head, which could be a snake or a penis. One can also recognize the lovers’ brown hair at the bottom left of the figure. This central figure appears to morph into a pink-and-grey creature, teetering dangerously on the edge of the black void behind it. Only part of the leg and the head are still in the viewer’s space. The pool of skin from which the figure emerges is flat this time, with brown contours. There is gravity force and strength coming from the lover on top of the one laying under, but the movement implies that their positions might change places, creating a sublime experience where boundaries between realities becomes porous.

Femme Couchée by Picasso Pablo. Centre Pompidou, 1932

There is a strong push and pull feel in Bacon’ paintings, just like the figures, the viewer is being sucked in by invisible forces into the painting by the black void of the doors; drawn by the mesmerizing warmth of the skin on the figures, only to be rejected by the silhouette’s isolation, the geometric triangles, and tilted solid floor pushing us back to our viewer’s condition. The sudden distance is intensified by the presence of glasses covering each panel.

Observing a Bacon painting is not unlike having a sublime experience (in a Burkean sense). The paint seems organic, the figures so alive, not unlike a human heart. And what is a heart if not the organ of life? Bacon captures life and renders it to its fullest, materializing on the canvas invisible forces. Nestled at a safe distance in our chest (invisible to us), a heart beats, pumps, expands, contracts, deforms under intense pressure. Blood flows through it like an endless vibration; the heart is strong while so fragile at the same time. Few could witness an open-heart surgery; it would seem horrifying yet fascinating at the same time. Bacon's figures are just as sublime and vibrant, full of life's pulsations and movements, but also on the verge of death.
 

Close up of Triptych August 1972 middle panel

All these opposite effects, dynamics, rhythms, intensities, patterns lead the viewer to lose sense of the kind of reality they are confronted with, losing their bearings. One moment, the viewer is confronted with the beauty and strength of life, and at another moment, with death and the annihilation of oneself. The viewer watches and experiences the sublime from a safe distance and can find pleasure and enjoyment in doing so.

One may compare what Bacon, and the Abstract Expressionists experienced after the Atomic Bomb to the shock implied by the evolution of artificial intelligence today. It feels like our society can very much relate to Schefer’s comment on the accelerated movie of the figure, “The figure is regularly caught up in a process of transformation. It is a moment in the accelerated film of mutations of the specie.”[7]

The Atomic-era painters were entering a new world that required them to think differently and rely on new tools. Similarly, the disruption AI causes today will again force artists to question our understanding of humanity and our place within the world in an even more accelerated way. Bacon was already confronting a new system of consumption, media, and technology that overloaded society with products, plastic, and information. This created a renewed sense of the sublime, evoking both great enjoyment and horror. Likewise, AI promises wonder for our society but also carries the potential for destruction and human annihilation.

Looking at a Bacon’s painting with its ragdoll-like effects and immersive (sometimes violent) experience, one might wonder which reality they are living in. Today, the veracity of images is called into question, with “fake news” presenting a true danger to democracy. Through intense phones and social media use, addicted users flicker through images, becoming numb and assimilated by their screens, unable to react. There is an intense pleasure in watching screens and, simultaneously, a profound sense of horror. Mass media creates a kind of collective anesthesia that could mirror the experience of a Bacon painting, with saturation of movements, textures, colors, and light effects. Looking back at Bacon’s entire body of work, one cannot help but appreciate its relevance to the world we live in today and the pressing issues facing humanity. WM

Bibliography

Deleuze Gilles. Francis Bacon Logique de la Sensation. Editions du Seuil, 2002.

Haenel Yannick. Conversation Francis Bacon. L’Atelier Contemporain, Francois-Marie Deyrolle

Editeur, 2019.

Leiris Michel. Francis Bacon: Face et profil. Hazan; Illustrated edition, 2015.

Schefer Jean Louis. Figures Peintes. P.O.L 1998.

Schefer Jean Louis. Laboratoire de la Figure Humaine sur Francis Bacon. Editions Pagine

d’Arte, 2009.

Vanel Herve. Francis Bacon Entretiens. Editions Arts & Esthetique,1996.

Pollock Jackson. “Interviews and statements.” Museum of Modern Art Books, ed. by Pepe Karmel and Kirk Varnedoe, Museum of Modern Art, 2000.

Gottlieb Adolph, Rothko Mark and Newman Barnett. “Letter to the editor.” New York Times, (13 June

1943)

Bacon Francis. Triptych August 1972. Tate Britain, 1972

Deakin John. George Dyer Seated in Underwear in Francis Bacon's Studio. The Dublin City

Gallery 1965.

Muybridge Eadweard. Two Men Wrestling, from 'Animal Locomotion'. Private Collection, 1887

Paolozzi Eduardo. Windtunnel Test. Tate Collection, 1950

Picasso Pablo. Femme Couchée. Centre Pompidou, 1932

Ubisoft Montreal Videogame. Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six: Vegas. Ubisoft, 2006

B/W 1950s HIGH SPEED close up man's distorted face in g-force experiment in wind tunnel / newsreel - Vidéos

https://www.gettyimages.be/detail/video/1950s-high-speed-close-up-mans-distorted-face-in-g-stockvideofootage/2034-264?language=fr