Francis Bacon in his studio

sitting, uncomfortably, arms hanging down in this space, covered in paint, head perhaps a bit down looking very aware of the enormity of the task that requires this apocalyptic terremoto, scared, helpless but defiant, resigned to this impossibility and ready to carry it through... his vulnerability - the pathos - he is essentially every-human, contemplating his inadequacy, his failure, confronting life, the universe where there is no order and we are just a random cluster of albumins I find it life-affirming, very moving, and encouraging.

These photos made me want to become a painter perhaps more than anything else.

They speak volumes to me.


it is like looking your fate squarely in the face, christ- like, and not flinching

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