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| Francis Bacon |
A punchy introduction to an artist who attracts high scholarship and low gossip
Francis Bacon, Self portrait (1969). Photograph: National Pictures/Christie's
Even before the biographies of the artist Francis Bacon began to appear, stories about him were rife. Most stemmed from Soho, where he was known to have been instrumental in the success of the Colony Room, the private club run by the wickedly foul-mouthed Muriel Belcher. Later he became a grandee at the French House, soigné in his raincoat, with an open bottle of champagne at his elbow on the bar. From there he often moved to Wheeler's, for lunch or dinner, and there might pronounce, as he swept the crumbs off the white tablecloth, that Mrs Thatcher was now embodying the cause of labour in Britain. His perversity was part of the attraction, as was the terrifying realism that lay behind the tricks and tactics of his art. Few have been so insistent in their belief that humans and animals are both at the mercy of natural compulsions – lust, fear, anxiety, or the urge to violence. Less easy to communicate is the exhilaration that his work undeniably evokes.
