Bacon's Paint

 

                                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                                                   Francis Bacon, Study for portrait of P.L. from photographs, 1963

 

 

 

"I really do like paint to be very fresh."

Francis Bacon, Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson: 1975.

 

 

"Half my painting activity is disrupting what I can do with ease."

Francis Bacon,  Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson: 1975.

 

 

"Accident takes the form of semen-like white paint that Bacon claimed to fling out of the tube at some of his canvases."

 John Richardson, Bacon Agonistes, The New York Review of Books, Volume 56, Number 20 · December 17, 2009.

 

 

"When the paint itself breaks loose into a flowing white emanation, streaming away across the canvas, it is the intimation of a direction."  

Lawrence Gowing,  Francis Bacon: The Irrefutable Image, 1968.

 

 

"But in trying to do a portrait, my ideal would really be just to pick up a handful of paint and throw it at the canvas and hope that the portrait was there."

Francis Bacon,  Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson: 1975

 

 

"The paint has a dreadful materiality, as though the grainy cellular structure of the pigment, swiped with a loaded brush across the canvas, were a smear of tissue."

Robert Hughes, The Shock of the New, 1991.

 

 

"Bacon could become entranced by all kinds of odd marks. I remember when we wee sitting at the Coupole in Paris, he suddenly became fixated by the shape a pool of spilt milk had made on the table."

Michael Peppiatt, Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma, Westview Press, 1996. 

 

 

"I can only hope that the throwing of the paint onto the already-made image or half-image will either re-form the image or that I will be able to manipulate this paint further into - anyway, for me - a greater intensity."

Francis Bacon,  Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson: 1975.

 

 

"Van Gogh got very near to the violence of life itself. It's true to say that when he painted a field he was able to give you the violence of grass. think of the violence of the grass he painted. It's one of the most violent and abominable things, if you really want to think about life."

Francis Bacon; The Legacy of Genius: Van Gogh and Francis Bacon; Francis Bacon - Studies for a Portrait, Michael Peppiatt, Yale University Press, 2008.

 

 


"The clotted, grainy paint dragged over the unprimed canvas sets up a visual discomfort similar to the scrap of fingernails on fabric, so that the nerves are immediately altered to something unusual, something sinisterly unpleasant, before the image has spelt itself out in the brain."

Michael Peppiatt, Head 1, Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma, Westview Press, 1996.

 

 

"One could say the ejaculatory blurt of white paint in a painting like Two Studies for a Portrait of George Dyer, 1968, is chancy, but that kind of chance is easily manipulated with practice, and it rhymes suspiciously well with other curves in the painting (like the back of the chair in the picture within a picture to the left)."

Robert Hughes, Singing Within The Bloody Wood; At the Tate, a second celebration of Francis Bacon, Time Magazine,  7 July, 1985.

 

 

"I remember Bacon becoming transfixed, for instance, by a puddle of milk on a café table; he lifted his finger, as if to draw in it, then rather reluctantly abstained - the chance shape of that puddle of milk - also left their traces. And from this extraordinary commingling all Bacon's images were born."

Michael Peppiatt, Bacon's Eyes; Francis Bacon - Studies for a Portrait, Yale University Press: 2008.

 

 

"But in the dialectic between sensations of reality and the making of a picture, what mattered most in the picture was paint, the inherent eloquence of paint, paint handled so that it 'comes across directly onto the nervous system'. Manipulation of paint became an inexhaustible gamble, involving all sorts of exploration and chance." 

David Sylvester, Bacon's CourseFigurabile: Francis Bacon, Electa, Museo Correr, Venice, 1993.

 

 

"Bacon’s picture, as usual, is in lamp-black monochrome, the zinc white of the monster’s eyes glittering in the cold crumbling grey of the face. Bacon is a Grand Guignol artist: the mouths in his heads are unpleasant places, evil passions make a glittering white mess of the lips. There are, after all, more things in heaven and earth than shiny horses or juicy satins. There are the fleurs du mal for instance. "

Wyndham Lewis, The Listener, 12 May 1949.

 

 

"With oil paint being so fluid, the image is changing al the time while you're working. One thing either builds on another or destroys the other. You see, I don't think that generally people really understand how mysterious, in a way, the actual manipulation of oil paint is. Because moving - even unconsciously moving - the brush one way rather than the other will completely alter the implications of the image."

Francis Bacon, Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson: 1975.

 

 

"There Dyer's body congeals into his cross-legged thighs as he squats on a curving sofa looking both ways like Janus, and a tasselled cord hangs into the cage of isolation that surrounds him. A spurt of white paint that may be spent semen gushes from the buttocks of a shape kneeling in the worship of the flesh before him beside an empty folding chair with a red seat, and a lying dog is the voyeur, pointing his muzzle towards his master."

Andrew Sinclair, Francis Bacon - His Life & Violent Times, Crown Publishers, Inc., 1993.

 

 


"To the point, in fact, at which the face as we know it would disappear altogether in the jewelled slime of the paint, leaving behind it an eye socket, or the deep cave of a nostril, or an irreducible patch of hair, as tokens that somewhere among the strong-willed chromatic smearing a named individual was commemorated. No questions, here, of setting the scene: we are at a dentist's distance from eyes, nose, mouth and teeth, and the rest of the world is blocked out."

John Russell, Francis Bacon: His Life & Violent Times, Andrew Sinclair, Crown Publishers Inc., 1993.

 

 

 

"What has never yet been analyzed is why this particular way of painting is more poignant than illustration. I suppose because it has a life completely of its own. It lives on its own, like the image one's trying to trap; it lives on its own, and therefore transfers the essence of the image over more poignantly. It's a very, very close and difficult thing to know why some paint comes across directly onto the nervous system and other paint tells you the story in a long diatribe through the brain."

Francis Bacon, Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson: 1975.

 

 

 

"What Bacon accomplishes is a linkage of the power of the painterly process to the power of social authority. The painterliness that gives hysterical flair to the person also mutilates that being into oblivion, generalizing it toward nonbeing. That something can be so real and at the next moment an illusion belonging to the past expresses the ambivalence endemic in archaeologism. All Bacon's figures exist in a time warp, at once radically contemporary yet belonging to a dead world. Bacon's hysterical painting is paradoxical, and never more so than when it gives authority to inherently unauthoriitative, almost banal figures."

Donald Kuspit, Hysterical PaintingArt Forum, January, 1986.

 

 

 


"Bacon's object in the last fifteen years has been to find more and more new valves to open. Once they are opened, and the feeling floods out, we find it is not al all what we had expected it to be... But it is here that the paint takes over. The paint will not allow the picture to be treated as magazine-illustration gone berserk. There is a difference, as Bacon has said, between paint 'which comes across directly on to the nervous system' and paint which 'tells you the story in a long diatribe through the brain'. Society tries to transfer Bacon's less palatable pictures to the brain, but the paint insists on speaking directly to the nerves"

John Russell, Francis Bacon, Art In Progress, Methuen, London 1964.

 

 

 

"Of the younger painters none actually paints so beautifully as Francis bacon. I have seen painting of his that reminded me of Velázquez and like that master he is fond of blacks. Liquid whitish accents are delicately dropped upon the stable ground, like blobs of mucus - or else there is the cold white glitter of an eyeball, or an eye distended with despairing insult behind a shouting mouth, distended also to hurl insults. Otherwise it is a baleful regard from the mask of a decayed clubman or business executive - so decayed that usually part of the head is rotting away into space. But black is his pictorial element. These faces come out of the blackness to glare or to shout."

Wyndham Lewis, Round the London Art Galleries; The Listener, 12 May 1949.

 

 

 

"My painting isn't about expression, it's about instinct. I don't express. I try to remake the image of reality that is in my mind. To create realism without falling into illustration you have to invent a technique. Painters attempt from generation to generation to find ways of returning an image onto the nervous system. One by one, the techniques of the past wear out. Yet one still wants to paint the same things - a body or a face. So you have to reinvent technique in order to find a new way of conveying something, such as a chair, onto the nervous system... All the painters who interest me have succeeded in doing this, and particularly Van Gogh, who did it in such an extraordinary way - a very simple but also a very mysterious way."

Francis Bacon,  L'Express,  15-21 November, 1971.

 

 

 

"Francis Bacon was conscious that he had lived all the distorted years of the 'thirties. But the violence of life was very different from the violence in painting. 'When talking abut the violence of paint, it's nothing to do with the violence of war.' It had to do with 'an attempt to remake the violence of reality itself'. He wanted the help of accident and chance in his paintings - by the use of drips and slips of the brush; by wiping with rags or by throwing on paint or sand or dust for texture; by adding circles and blots, arrows or whiplashes of white paint; by inserting the incongruous object or throwaway detail that marked the arbitrary and haphazard nature of modern living. To him, the production of that very great work depended on the chance of the paint."

Andrew Sinclair, Francis Bacon - His Life & Violent Times, Crown Publishers, Inc., 1993.

 

 


"Sheer omnipresence of paint is what impresses most as one enters this highly fraught space. Coloured marks - accidental splats, brush wipes, trial runs of one hue against another - rainbow or cascade over the walls, turning them into giant palettes. Another pattern of chance blobs and trickles extends in an intricately coloured net over the book and photo-strewn floor. Sticky masses of half-spent tubes, thickets of coagulated brushes rear up on all sides, amid old plates and pans to mix color, rollers, rags, tins, and jars of every description. An old passport or a single, shinning shoe occasionally heaves into sight like a drowning man, and is lost. beyond all the innovative transformations of space and the bravura handling of paint, Bacon deals with essentials only. The human fact is caught between pitilessly bright pigment and the shadow of its own mortality."

Michael Peppiatt, Francis Bacon: The Studio as a Symbol, Connoisseur,  September, 1984.

 

 

 

"I would loathe my paintings to look like chancy abstract expressionist paintings, because I really like highly disciplined painting, although I don't use highly disciplined methods of contracting it. I think the only thing is that my paint looks immediate. Perhaps it's vanity to say that, but at least I sometimes think, in the better things, the paint has an immediacy, although I don't think it looks like thrown about paint. But paint is so malleable that you never do really know. It's such an extraordinary supple medium that you never do quite know what the paint will do. You see I want the paintings to come about so that they look as though the marks had a sort of inevitability about them. And yet, what so-called chance gives you is quite different from what willed application of paint gives you. It has an inevitability very often which willed putting-on of the paint doesn't give you."

Francis Bacon, Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson: 1975.

 

 

 

"Bacon is a magician, a quick-change artist. He brings off the most sudden and elusive disappearing acts and reappearing acts, fusions and transformations. The flesh slips, slurps, smears, flares, blurs, fades, evaporates, abruptly dematerialises. Legerdemain: you look straight at it and you just can’t see how it’s done, how it moves from solid to film to spook to gleam to void and back - and then breaks the picture surface in a great sticky licking whiplash gloop of gunk.  All this 'damage' is in fact enormously animating. There isn’t a corpse anywhere in Bacon’s work. His savage treatment is an extension, an exaggeration, of the body’s own movements and sensations and expressions. And though his use of oil paint gives him a much more liquid language, it wouldn’t be wrong to see him in the line of English graphic caricature, and the way it uses distortion, not only to play with likeness, but to inject energy and rub the nerves raw. "

Tom Lubbock, All hail a vulgar entertainer: Francis Bacon retrospective, The Independent, 10 September 2008 .

 

 

 

"Bacon obsessively experimented with the sense of motion caused by the different ways that paint leaves the brush or the piece of cloth he often used in place of a brush. Thick strokes of paint sometimes cut through a face, partly making the shape of a cheekbone, partly severing the face like a cubist conceit. Next to or on top of this the firm slash of the brush is countered with paint applied by means of pressing and smearing it with textured fabric, such as corduroy or towelling. Large areas are left unpainted so that the raw linen acts as both colour and texture. These vital details of Bacon’s painting are not readily visible in reproduction, hence the importance of this exhibition for a first-time audience. Bacon used different kinds of paint in the same composition, such as oils, acrylics and spray paint, as well as found materials. Sometimes this seems to have had direct indexical relevance to the subject – for example, applying dust or fluff to the paint to describe the fabric of a coat."

Anthony Bond, Raw Emotional Encounters With Paint; Francis Bacon - Five Decades,  Prestel Publishing: 2012.

 

 

 

 

 

"By the late 1970s, as the Met retrospective made very clear, Bacon's work was becoming glib, trite, and colour-coordinated to a decorous degree. From boasting that he couldn't do it—that was the whole point—he let it be known that he could do it, indeed had always been able to do it. Freud believes that Bacon had also lost 'the most precious thing a painter has: his memory,' and forgotten that he had done it all better before. The elegance of the Met's installation, which worked so well in the earlier galleries, worked to the artist's disadvantage at the end. Few of the later triptychs pack as much of a punch as the explosive Jet of Water and Blood on Pavement (both 1988), which are refreshingly free of the artist's formulaic figures. As if to register the extent of Bacon's decline, the Met enabled us to contrast the artist's wonderful 1944 breakthrough, Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion, in an earlier gallery with the garish, red carpet remake of it from 1988, which brought the show to a disheartening end."

 

John Richardson, Bacon Agonistes, The New York Review of Books, Volume 56, Number 20 · December 17, 2009. 

 

 

 

"Since the 'sixties, the painting is the torture. The scale is often epic, but portraiture is always at the centre, because it states, in its most radical terms, the contradiction between the autonomy of paint and the identity of the subject, corralled, attacked from several sides at once. the contortion characteristic of Bacon's forms is a hanging on to a quarry that tries frantically to escape. There ensues a seesaw struggle in which writhing pigment achieves a succession of brief and partial triumphs: those moments when we forget it because it has suddenly become, with a kind of savage presence, a foot, an ashtray, a cheekbone, a knee clasped in that inimitable British way. And at once the image dissolves into brush-strokes. Thus painting can be said, in Bacon's words, 'to be and not to be.'... Hence perhaps Bacon's jubilation at the disappearance of painting in our time: it proves that 'painting is just beginning'. The image will have reality only as long as we do not mistake it for reality; and when we do (when we want to touch it), the image relapses into paint. And so on indefinitely, with each picture ... "

Pierre Schneider, The Times, 7th November, 1971.

 

 

 

"Bacon's contrived accidents - squeezing paint into his hand and throwing it at the canvas, the use of sponges, the rubbing in of studio dust and so on - allow him to pursue an alternative practice of painting to that of representation. Nothing could be more bland and obtuse than to use Bacon's work as a narrative about the lamentable violences of the age. The violence which Bacon creates concerns a certain experience of the body and something to do with the horror of a too-close presence.  This violence can indeed be usefully treated through the question of the detachment of the gaze. It will be that which enables us to distinguish in Bacon's paintings between a violence of painting and the painting of violence. The violence of sensation has squeezed out a literal essence of being, the lamella, a puddle of being. To claim that the lamella appears in Bacon's work is to claim that he has taken the detachment of the gaze to its limit. The paintings are as far as possible withdrawn from the painting of everyday life, while yet capturing the 'appearance' of a human being. The violence of the painting is the correlate of the violence of appearing. What is at stake is not violence but paint."

Parveen Adams, The Violence of Paint, Journal of Philosophy and the Visual Arts, 1993.

 

 

 

"The thickly impastoed, spermatozoic streaks of white pigment which cross the bull's head and that spill across the floor can be compared not only with random secretions of bodily fluids but also with blood, thus providing a clue to what they may signify in later paintings by Bacon: the beautifully staccato splashes of white over the bull's back may have been suggested by black and white photographs of the shimmering, sunlit blood, brought forth by the thrusts of the banderillas. In 1979 his friend Eddy Batache witnessed Bacon apply one of these painterly flourishes: "Suddenly he put on a glove and hurled a pellet of white paint at the picture with all his might, crushing it against the canvas. I was staggered by the force of his gesture and by the risk he was taking...''. The present painting is replete with similarly bravura touches, confirming how technically adroit Bacon had become by 1969. Several small areas are left as raw canvas (the bull's horn, one of its hooves and beneath the spectators at the extreme right), the pinkish blush of the bull's flank cleverly contrasts with the glossy black surrounding it, and Bacon deliberately flicked thin, liquid drips of black pigment around the centre of the canvas as a final gesture of feigned indifference."

Martin Harrison, Study for Bullfight No.1, 2nd Version, by Francis Bacon; Sotheby's 2007.

 

 

 

"Bacon’s paintings tend to be large, but not overly so, and scaled to the body. The mark of the artist’s hand plays back to us when we stand in his place in front of the canvas. Bacon’s brushwork always rewards close scrutiny; he was a master in applying paint to convey a range of sensations. From the early 1960s his colours became incredibly vibrant, often isolating and foregrounding the central motif, usually a figure, in flat fields of pure colour...  What is real in Bacon’s art is never the appearance of things but always the dramatic encounter of each viewer with the fact of paint and the sensations it conveys. Bacon’s images are nearly always beautiful in spite of, or indeed because of, the violence he did to appearances in the process of transforming flesh into paint and paint into flesh. 5 It is my hope that in looking closely at the works in this exhibition viewers can experience a physiological and personal response to the paint whereby their subjectivity overrides any conscious attempt to interpret what Bacon was thinking or feeling. This is what Bacon wanted and is what he makes possible in the way he constructed his paintings. Painting for Bacon was definitely not intended to be narrative or illustrative, or psychoanalytical or autobiographical, even though his work traces his close observation of twentieth-century images and events... The zip of white paint he often threw at the canvas at the end of the painting process was, he said, a way of introducing an element of chance that might or might not bring the work to fruition. This practice has also been invariably read as ejaculatory. As a gesture, this may well have been how Bacon felt about it as the culmination of the creative process but, again, it is not the literal story he wanted to tell."

Anthony Bond, Bodies In Paint; Francis Bacon - Five Decades,  Prestel Publishing: 2012.

 

 

 

"This is an act without a subject: Bacon's throwing down of 'non-rational marks', those which convey the 'mystery of fact', not the mysteries. An expropriation. 'And you can't will this non-rationality of a mark.' The moment of art production as an intentional event, as exteriorisation of representation (Hegel: Vorstellung einer Vorstellung), voluntarism (even technicist voluntarism), mimetic theories, hylomorphism, theological linear theories of art production (and their rational humanist derivations), the art work as intentional, interpretative object ... etc. These fantastic constructions fall  with the contingency of the artistic process. The artist is circuited, immanent to the production process - the agent-subject 'becomes the empty place where the impersonal affirmation emerges'.  But it is in the moment or act of Bacon's non-rational marks, the moment of the circuiting, that Bataille's will to chance is given its full pictorial equivalent, the art-work produced in the throw of a dice. The artist is 'sick', spilling its transcendence, emptying its site. An opening then, but not discursive, not a mouth, rather a mouth-like aperture, an osculum... For the real critical force is produced by the condition of Bacon's painting: the act that is sovereign in Bataille's sense, redundant. It is an act in immanent excess of itself, the figural (substantive) become verbal (impersonal)... Indifference is intoxication: Bataillean sacrifices, a gift. This is the material of Bacon's pharmacy, giving access onto the sensible - donation itself. Sensation and not Hammer-horror, the sensational; paint spreading the organism on a nervous system, freeing a body becoming sensation. No, the first name given to auto-immune disease is more apt to this painting: horror autotoxicus. Understanding Bacon's fugitive body incarcerates it, dissimulates it; perhaps Bataille's experience (non-knowledge) or Michaux's connaissance par les gouffres is the nearest one can come. At any rate, to adapt Artaud's hommage to Van Gogh, to understand the body, it is necessary to give your own body to Bacon's painting."

Nick Millet, The Fugitive Body : Bacon's Fistula, The Body, Journal of Philosophy and the Visual Arts, 1993.

 

 

 

Bacon began painting in 1960 and ended painting in 1970 and by painting we mean where the paint is image in itself for itself. The think of Sartre is identical to the paint of Bacon so understanding of either comes from understand both as being-action in the world where idea and image are actions where paint and think are actions acted upon as material-manifestations of being where words and paints are always already actions of presentation as a pulsating pure presence. Bacon's paint does not represent reality rather Bacon's paint presents reality: is real: is the real as paint-being-n-itself-for-itself for the paint is a primary-originary ontology

The raw rude nude paint manifests mindfully the essence of appearance as a pure-presence presenting the pulsations of the person outside of illustration where what is presented cannot be read in a literal way but in a primordial way where our body reads the sensations of the paint through its own 'sensationing' so thus identifying with the otherness of the paint as a sort of primordial mirror-image of itself before the becoming of our identifying  as being-human for Bacon's paint is our being before the human which is why there is no such thing as 'the human condition' (whatever that maybe) in Bacon's paint which is utterly other than being human

Being is disclosed to us in paint-being-in-itself-for-itself that is at the same time at the same being image-being-in-itself-for-itself where paint and image are one as the  unity of the revelation of being-mage as being-paint    where the image is the paint and the paint is the image as image-being-paint as paint-being-image and this is the genius of Bacon who was only able to paint-image image-paint in this utterly unique way between1960 and 1970. Of course we know very well that there are some paintings before 1960 - such as the Man in Blue series - that have this unification of image-paint as paint-image but Bacon's utterly unique Style is still not quite there

Bacon's Style emerges in 1963 and it is materially manifest in Study for portrait of P.L. from photographs (1963) which is arguable one of  the greatest of all Bacon's paintings where the paint speaks in profoundly primordial sounds and is incredibly close to the sounds created by Schoenberg, Berg, Stravinsky, Shostakovich and Pettersson to name the obvious where those dark stabs have the sensation of timpani and percussion where we can hear the primordial sounds of the paint coming through for Bacon was a profoundly musical painter as a composer of paint sound-scapes despite himself openly admitting to Michel Archimbaud of not really having a musical ear

Bacon is an orchestral composer of the economy of paint never over-orchestrating the paint like Freud, Auerbach and Kossoff do where the paint is far too congested and claustrophobic and heavy textured losing its dasein altogether for the paint cannot come into being because the paint has not been allowed to be for Freud, Auerbach and Kossoff do not know how to let the paint be in itself for itself for they work on it to death by negating the paint altogether where there is no immediacy of the paint but rather a mannered turgid ploughing of the paint of a sexual assault on the paint as a sort of molestation of the paint as a mindless masturbatory-manipulation

When paint becomes illustration it becomes dead and so non-ontological as well as non-psychological as we witness with the inane-illustration of Freud, Saville and Hockney where the paint has no life of its own because it cannot come to live on its own because the paint has not come into being in the first place despite pertaining and pretending to-be da-sein there is no paint-being-there so therefore there is no being-there of the paint-there and we tragically witness that paint-not-being-there in Bacon's late nonpainted paintings where there is no paint-being-there anymore simply because there is no Bacon being-there anymore for Bacon actually died in 1972

Paint cannot be-known only thrown, stabbed, slashed, smeared, streaked saved in a state of pure-being as being-paint and nothing but a being-paint as paint-alone all alone as if it had a life of its own as Bacon stated for paint does have a life of its own owned by the paint alone and as a painted you have to let the paint be just as a sculptor you have to let the clay be and interfere with it as little as possible where the less you do the better which is why the more you work on the paint the more you murder the paint as we witness in Freud, Auerbach and Kossoff where the paint is a murky mannered muddiness unable to breath unable to pulsate for the paint has no pulse to be

To paint is the was of the always already been painted had been done had been painted always already yet already always fresh as just having been painted-there and then just now at any moment now just now just then just where the was  became the is which is why painting ontologically speaking is already always timeless always already where the origin of painting has happened as the primordial-eternal-return of that paint coming back all over again that has always already come to be done already always done just done now done to come just come into being-paint just coming into painting-being the painting of the coming of being-painted being-paint-there

The very last actual-real painting that Bacon did was the spirit-semen sparkle sprinkle in the centre panel of Triptych August 1972 where we see the spirit of Dyer leaving the body where the coming-off-of- being is in fact the coming-off-of-spirit for as a supreme painter of spunk Bacon was a supreme painter of spirit where the late Self-Portraits are free from flesh free from time free from aging where Bacon paints spirit akin to the Heads and the Meditations of Jawlensky indeed both Bacon and Jawlensky were the last painters of spirit and we live is a spiritless age which is why we do not recognise Spirit in Bacon and Jawlensky whom were primarily painters of spirit

For Bacon paint is the coming of consciousness as pure paint is pure consciousness conscious of being paint just as clay is conscious of being clay and this consciousness is in the doing and this doing is what we nominate as minding since painting is minding not thinking since sculpting is minding and not thinking for paint to be is for paint to mind just as for clay to be is for clay to mind and that is the paint minding itself like the clay minding itself and that means not letting the mind of the artist interfere with the mind of the paint or the mind of the clay and Bacon lets the paint mind itself as having a mind of its own for the paint of Bacon is minding its business

The paint of Bacon is non-representational paint as it has nothing to represent only being to present as pure-paint presents pure-being for pure-paint is pure-being as the concrete-in-paint as the concrete-in-mind as the concrete consciousness coming to mind as being-paint and nothing but being-paint as paint-being but not all paint has being just as not all being has being has being-there for not all paint is there for not all being is there because it is dreadfully difficult for paint-to-come-into-being just as it is dreadfully difficult for beings-to-come-into-being as there is hardly any painting-being-there today for there is hardly any being-being-there today

Not all artists are painters for not all painters are painters for not all can bring-paint-to-be and in actual fact there are hardly any painters at all when you put your mind to it for when we come to paint and painting there is hardly any actual painting ever done and by painting we mean paint-coming-to-being as painting but most of what we nominate as painting is nothing of the kind because there is no being of the paint-there for the paint has not actually been painted and so we can safely say that on an ontological level there are in fact very few painters who paint paintings in fact most painters have an actual dread of the paint that is of paint-coming-into-being

Bacon paints paradoxical portraits where what appears-there is remote-from-itself whilst cementing concrete nearness-thereness as an abjected appearance da-sein disappearance where what is there is the what was there all at once where-there are lost and found time-frames thrown-retrieved as a fort-da economy of throwing-time and retrieving-time where the person portrayed is inserted-in-between-times doing different times all at once and so one never knows what time of day it is or what time of night it is when we catch a glimpse of being for all Bacon can hope to offer us is a glimpse of being-there and that then is the glint and gleam of being painted here

Paint is always the there just as being is always the there for where there is paint there is being for where there is being there is always there and being and paint need the there in order to come-into-being and Bacon gives us ground for paint-to-be for being-to-be and Bacon keeps the ground all dull and desolate in order to-clear-the-ground for paint-to-be for being-to-be thus this is the genius of Bacon in giving-the-ground a frissonless-flatness that then thus gives the paint the plateau to breath freely upon a clear ground and so different from the claustrophobic clutter found in Freud, Auerback and Kossoff who gravel-the-ground as congested and claustrophobic

The Paint of Bacon akin to the Paint of Rembrandt and the Paint of Van Gogh cannot be reproduced in colour reproductions which renders books on Bacon and Rembrandt and Van Gogh null and void since they always come across as flat and dull no matter how well reproduced the reproductions are they always lack that raw materiality of the Paint lacking the reality of the Paint which is why one can only ever Encounter the Paint of Rembrandt and the Paint of Van Gogh and the Paint of Bacon in-the-paint that is in-the-flesh for the flesh-is-the-paint-the-paint-is-the-flesh which is why Rembrandt and Van Gogh and Bacon present paint-flesh not a represented flesh

The fleshness of the paint comes forth from the thrownness of the paint which is the freshness of the paint for flesh is fresh for flesh is what is always fresh so the paint must be thrown fresh where the throwing-forth is a form of freshness yet not anyone can throw freshly just as not anyone can paint freshly as if the paint were  always eternal fresh infinitely fresh just as time is always a fresh time which is why time can never be linear which is why paint can never be linear for paint is the nowness of time always already being-now being thrown now being painted now for paint to be flesh for paint to be fresh paint has to be in-the-throw of the now in an instant infinitely forever

 

 

                                                                                                                  

                                                                                                                                                Ontological Ooze Self-Portrait 2002 A.V.E.

 

 

The fleshness of the paint can only ever be achieved by the freshness of the paint and Bacon loved the paint to be very fresh like freshly whipped-cream and all that luxurious-cuisine that glistens and sizzles so seductively since one can actually smell as well as taste the culinary paint of Bacon which is always edifyingly edible as you want to eat the paint much more than you want to look at the paint as it is the taste of the paint that matters most indeed matters moist in Bacon yet the taste of the paint in Freud, Auerbach and Kossoff is absolutely awful tasting rancid and bitter made with cheap ingredients and always way over cooked and impossible to digest

What does the paint of Bacon taste like as it is not a neutral-disinterested paint or plain food and certainly not plane food and the paint of Bacon is not just a question of taste that is aesthetics as paint being a question of good taste as having good taste but also a question of sound for how does the paint of Bacon sound like or rather what sounds do paint passages and paint slashes and paint blobs make when you come across them and you listen to them for the first time for the paint of Bacon is ontologically and primarily musical as certain sounds are produced by certain paint marks that go straight to the mind and the body bypassing the brain altogether

Bacon was well aware that painting was coming to an end whilst painting was paradoxically maybe not paradoxically at all beginning to start for the ends of painting are the signs of the beginnings of painting as the ending of art always marks the beginning of art yet art can never get started whilst art can never get ended for art is the refusal of the beginning and the refusal of the ending erasing the dasein-delusion that was once nominated as Art History for Bacon knew more than any Art Historian of the impossibility of Art History knowing that so-called Ancient Egyptian Art was always afresh-anew and ahead of so-called Contemporary Art which is always so dated

Painting is understandably the ending of writing for painting begins where writing ends and writing begins where painting ends which is why there can never be such a thing as Art Writing which is an odious oxymoron for painting is alien to writing and writing is so alien to painting and so you cannot write about painting or drawing or sculpting because they are primordial languages which cannot be translated into writing which is far too intellectual and far too meaningful to be able to grasp arting which is necessarily non-intellectual and anti-intellectual but of course art careerists who do Art Writing will necessarily protest and write inanities about art

Look at the sleeve in Portrait of Hendrickje Stoffels (1659) by Rembrandt and you will see it repeating itself in the same swish of white-whipped paint as in the Last painting by Bacon of George Dyer (1972) where we witness that same fresh whipped whiteness of swipe spirit and this Rembrandt and this Bacon thus then defy the inane idiocy of an Art History for what they present is pure spirit right now as having been painted planted there just right now in this split-second as both these swipes of spirit have just been presented and are always just being-presented just happened still smelling fresh still sounding  fresh and it is this freshness of paint that is a genius

 

 

                                                                                                                       

                                                                                                                       Triptych August 1972 - The very last actual-real painting of Francis Bacon

 

 

Why cannot painters today paint in such a fresh way where the paint sounds-spirit and lives on its own as a life of its own as a life-force all of its own for even the faked freshness of Jenny Saville always comes across as over rehearsed dead-paint just as Freud or Auerbach or Kossoff come-off as dead-paint there as being dead painters always already dead for when the paint is ontologically dead to begin with then one begins to then question if Freud or Auerbach or Kossoff actually ever lived for paint is after all the empirical evidence for the existence of the painter for only if the painter is alive will the paint ever be-alive for da-sein is not always there in painting

If you look at the portraits of Jenny Saville you will witness no wetness even though they pretend to still be all wet as if they have just ejaculated their stuff and yet the paint is not the stuff of coming off of the coming off of being of being-there for there is no da-sein in these portraits which are illustrational in that the paint is in fact illustrational paint albeit it done is a mock-messy sort of a way to give a sensation of spontaneity yet there is absolutely nothing spontaneous in the portraits of Saville which are sort of updates on Freud but still very 19th century like Freud and one wonders why Saville or Freud have not learnt from Bacon or Picasso or Van Gogh

Study for Head of Lucian Freud (1967), is arguably the greatest portrait by Francis Bacon; unlike so many portraits by Bacon, it is actually painted, and not illustrated; indeed, this is one of the very few portraits that Bacon actually painted and by actually painted meaning where the paint actually forms the form, and does not merely fill it in, as with the awful illustrational non-painted double-portrait, Two Studies for a Self-Portrait (1970).

Two Studies for a Self-Portrait (1970) is largely imprinted corduroy trousers and cashmere sweaters and so one is perplexed why Oliver Barker stated: "Two Studies for a Self-Portrait goes straight in at number one of all the paintings I’ve handled in my career... To my mind, the painting is worthy of a place alongside the very finest self-portraits of Rembrandt, Van Gogh and Picasso... It’s certainly among the greatest self-portraits ever offered at auction. In this painting you see Bacon in a sense of great excitement in his life, this is an artist very much at the top of his game. For me this is one of the greatest paintings that has ever come to the market by Francis Bacon."

 

 

                                                                                         

                                                                                                White whipped sleeve swipe spirit in Portrait of Hendrickje Stoffels (1659) by Rembrandt

 

 

                                              Framing Bacon

                                                                      The Economy of the Frame

 

                                                                                                                      

                                                                                                                                    Study for Head of Lucian Freud, 1967, Francis Bacon

 

 

 

"The work of art still has something in common with enchantment: it posits its own, self-enclosed area, which is withdrawn from the context of profane existence, and in which special laws apply."

Theodor Adorno, The Dialectic of the Enlightenment, 1944.

 

 

"Bacon wanted his pictures to endure; and that was surely the underlying reason why he decided to have their extravagant contents glazed and put in massive gilt frames, with all their raw paradox and enigma intact, just like the masterpieces enshrined in the great museums and churches of the world."

Michael Peppiatt,  The Sacred and The Profane; Francis Bacon - Studies for a Portrait,  Yale University Press: 2008.

 

 

"I am not interested in painting as it has been accepted for so long – to hang on walls of houses as pictures. To hell with pictures – they should be the wall – even better – on the outside wall – of large buildings. Or stood up outside as billboards or a kind of modern 'icon'. We must make our art like the Egyptians, the Chinese & the African and the Island primitives – with their relation to life. It should meet the eye direct."

Ellsworth Kelly in a letter to John Cage: 4 September 1950.

 

 

"For several reasons, he preferred his paintings to be hung under glass. As well as protecting the surface and establishing a distance between the picture and the viewer, the glass helped Bacon himself to achieve a sense of detachment that prevented him from revising or destroying his  own work. Above all, however, it had the effect of reducing the volatility of the surface structure and endowing the work with a stronger feeling of coherence and finality."

Wieland Schmied, Francis Bacon; Commitment and Conflict, 2006.

 

 

"I feel that, because I do not use varnishes or anything of that kind, and because  of the very flat way I paint, the glass helps to unify the picture. I also like the distance  between what has been done  and the onlooker that the glass creates; I like, as it were,  the removal of the object as far as possible.  It’s the distance – that this thing is shut away from the spectator."

Francis Bacon, The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester: Thames & Hudson, 1987.

 

 

"The parergon inscribes something which comes as an extra, exterior to the proper field (here that of pure reason and of Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone) but whose transcendent exteriority comes to play, abut onto, brush against, rub, press against the limit itself and intervene in the inside only to the extent that the inside is lacking. It is lacking in something and it is lacking from itself. "

Jacques Derrida, The Truth in Painting, University of Chicago Press: 1987.

 

 

"The most interesting, profound and introspective things can be said when there's no prompting. So, to wait is one of the rules. The other is not to argue with their opinions; there's no point. I said to Bacon when he put down Abstract Expressionism, so why do you think it moves me? And he said, 'oh, you're too subject to fashion', or something like that. Well, I didn't argue with him, and I didn't argue with him about his idiotic opinions about Pollock. You're not there to argue with the interviewee, but you are there to probe. I should have probed more."

David Sylvester, In memoriam David Sylvester - The art of the interview, Tate, Issue 26/Autumn 2001.

 

 

 

"I always prefer my canvases to be in a frame and under glass. There is a current vogue for not framing pictures any more, but I feel that this is wrong, bearing in mind what a painting is. The frame is artificial and that's precisely why it's there; to reinforce the artificial nature of the painting. The more the artificiality of the painting is apparent, the better, and the more chance the painting has of working or of showing something. That might seem paradoxical, but it makes perfect sense in art: one achieves one's goals by using the maximum of artificial means, and one succeeds much more in doing something authentic when the artificiality is patently obvious. "

Francis Bacon, In conversation with Michel Archimbaud,  Phaidon Press: 1993.

 

 

"Bacon always had his paintings glazed and framed, which notoriously makes viewing the paint more difficult and requires our movement to see beyond the reflective surface to the image behind. It may not be coincidental that this idea of glass as a surface, mirror and transparent membrane was first exploited by the French dada artist Marcel Duchamp in his major installation The bride stripped bare by her bachelors, even (The large glass) 1915–23 (fig 5). For Duchamp, this difficulty of seeing, including the reflection of the viewer in the glass, ensured the physiological participation of the audience in the work, transferring the construction of feeling from author to viewer. It is likely that Bacon embraced these effects as part of his interest in movement although he made little of it in his interviews."

Anthony Bond, Raw Emotional Encounters With Paint, Francis Bacon - Five Decades,  Prestel Publishing: 2012.

 

 

"A sense of dilemma leads me to reconsider a feature of his art that I have regarded as finicky and precious: his insistence that all his paintings be displayed behind glass, in gold frames. The only reason I could surmise for this was that Bacon used glass as a prosthetic gloss to unify his lurchingly fragmented surfaces. But having witnessed, at the Met, the gleaming parade of his career, I begin to understand the policy as a poignant gesture that weds decorative chic to fierce aspiration. Reflecting in more ways than one, the framing registers the viewer’s physical presence and, abstractly, the hermetic fate of Western painting, fallen from the Renaissance into a state of besiegement by cameras and printing presses. Bacon’s paintings objectify the subjective ordeal of perishing bodies that harbor immortal longings. In this, the paintings are indeed great, standing for a historical condition even of people who can’t abide them."

Peter Schjeldahl, Rough StuffThe New Yorker, June 1, 2009.

 

 

"The frame: a parergon like the others. The series might seem surprising. How can one assimilate the function of a frame to that of a garment on (in, around, or up against) a statue, and to that of columns around a building? And what about a frame framing a painting representing a building surrounded by columns in clothed human form? What is incomprehensible about the edge, about the a-bord appears not only at the internal limit, the one that passes between the frame and the painting, the clothing and the body, the column and the building, but also at the external limit. The parergon stands out [se detache] both from the ergon (the work) and from the milieu, it stands out first of all like a figure on a ground. But it does not stand out in the same way as the work. The latter also stands out against a ground. But the parergonal frame stands out against two grounds [fonds], but with respect to each of those two grounds, it merges [se fond] into the other."

Jacques Derrida, The Truth in Painting, University of Chicago Press: 1987.

 

 

"I always prefer my canvases to be in a frame and under glass. There is a current vogue for not framing pictures any more, but I feel that this is wrong, bearing in mind what a painting is. The frame is artificial and that's precisely why it's there; to reinforce the artificial nature of the painting. The more the artificiality of the painting is apparent, the better, and the more chance the painting has of working or of showing something. That might seem paradoxical, but it makes perfect sense in art: one achieves one's goals by using the maximum of artificial means, and one succeeds much more in doing something authentic when the artificiality is patently obvious. "

Francis Bacon, In conversation with Michel Archimbaud,  Phaidon Press: 1993.

 

 

"At a time when museums are tending to remove the glass from all but the most valuable paintings and when artists are shying away from notions of fine art and precious objects, it is rare to find a painter who wants his work to be presented in so formal and even sumptuous a manner. Bacon explains that the glass is to 'remove the images further. I don't think art is available; it's rare and curious and should be completely isolated. One is more away of its magic the more it's isolated.' The dualistic nature of Bacon's art - the ability to maintain a balance between the 'vivid' and the 'formal,' to achieve the integration of small-sketch sensibility and large-canvas grandeur, to exploit the tension between figurative resemblance and the abstract accidentalism of technique - accounts for his success in eluding categorization."

Hugh M. Davies, 'Bacon's “Black” Triptychs', Art in America, vol.63, no.2, March-April, 1975.

 

 

"We are told in Dawn Ades' essay in the catalogue for the Tate Gallery exhibition that Bacon does not consider a picture finished until it is framed.  He considers the glazing gives 'a unified texture to the painting,' and Ms Ades affirms 'the glass, then, is an essential element in the material surface of the paint' (page 9). It is a bit tempting to risk the picayune question whether there are many circumstances in which glass would not confer a 'surface' or for that matter be one ... or the impertinent observation that it's no secret that posh frames and glass can make silk purses out of sows' ears. One can ask more serious questions, make more sonorous observations, however. The enigmaticness of the paint and pastel effects of the glazed paintings are simply absent from unglazed ones. In these latter the onlooker is aware of a facture that is incompetent as a structural variant of that factural property which produces a dialectic of bathos and reassurance, a resonance between figurative or representational considerations and paint surface. The frames themselves are the top of the range. They confer a strange (and no doubt interesting) character of kitsch upon the paintings conceived as figural spectacles. Some of the most magnificently caparisoned paintings are, in some reading, spectacles of illegal thrills, flesh wounds, invoke radiography, diseases of the mouth, facial sores, scenes of violence, etc. To those contemplating these sights, the handsome frames present a voyeuristic safety."

Michael Baldwin, Mel Ramsden, Charles Harrison, Francis Bacon, Artscribe, No. 53, July-August 1985.

 

 

"The late Francis Bacon might not appear to have very much in common with an anonymous 15th- century painter of devotional art from Pskov but his Small Portrait Studies at the Marlborough Gallery share a lot of the characteristics of holy Russian icons. If the icon-painter's conventional treatment of the human face makes the saint seem like a being suspended between this world and the next, real yet also holy, Bacon's self-created figurative conventions tend in the opposite direction. Rendering people as restive blurs of swiped paint, he makes of them an odd blend of the human and the animal. Bacon's portraits, like icons, use the transfiguring capacities of painting to talk about the capacity to be transfigured that is inherent within all people - but the difference is that, whereas the icon speaks of an upward transfiguration, an ascent to holiness, Bacon's paintings see only the possibility of people becoming still less than they are. For the abstract gold ground of the icon, symbol of holiness, Bacon substitutes lurid grounds of dark red, green, pink or yellow: his people exist not in a sacred void but simply in a void. But these paintings are less despairing than they are often made out to be. At their best (up until the late 1960s), Bacon's small portraits have a kind of savage, joyous vigour and carnality which communicates not existential gloom but a weird form of celebration - something like the manic exuberance of someone who knows he does not have long to live but has decided (what the hell) to enjoy being alive while he can. These pictures find a kind of spiritual strength in the denial of spirituality."

Andrew Graham-Dixon, From icon to Bacon , The Independent, 26 October, 1993.

 

 

"The experience of a work of art's formal unity has, since Kant, been seen as a manifestation of some metaphysical unity: the unity of the faculties of cognition, or as an intuition of the unity of the Spirit. It is seen, in other words, as a symptom in one way or another of man's at-homeness in the world. 'I hate a homely atmosphere', Bacon has said discussing the disjuncture between his painterly painting of forms and figures and the flat and linear handling of the backgrounds and inanimate objects with which they co-exist. 'I always feel that malerisch painting has a too homely background ... I want to isolate the image and take it away from the interior of the home'.  Another device Bacon has used to isolate figures is the space-frame, those perspectival lines that seem to demark often invisible enclosures, but which sometimes become part of the architecture in which figures or forms exist. Bacon's is an emotive pictorial space, the space-frames are spatially incoherent. They refuse a consistent depth as well as two-dimensional pattern. They help to deny the integrity of the picture plane, that connoisseur's happy ending, that banality of good taste. Bacon's space is unsystematic, renegotiated, tested against affective resonance, against its imaginative life... In the discontinuities of pictorial language and space, Bacon articulates a rhetoric of the closed circle of the soul in a world that has lost meaning, lost coherence. But the isolation of figures within the space-frames is only an intensification of the predominant characteristic of most of his paintings; the isolated figure within the actual frame. Figures and forms alone within the rectangle of the canvas."

Andrew Brighton, Why Bacon is a Great Artist, ART Monthly, No. 88, July/August 1985.

 

 

"The experience of viewing paintings through glass is, of course, common for older works. The shift towards an emphasis on surface that characterized much avant-garde picture-making of the twentieth century, however, meant that the use of glass in framing became a rarity. In this context, Bacon’s insistence upon retaining it, despite employing complex facture in his own works, acts to call attention to it.25 The unusualness of seeing an avant-garde painting mounted behind glass makes the spectator aware of what is a relatively common but usually overlooked visual phenomenon. The mirroring effect of the framing produces a disturbance in the field of vision. If the required act of filtration is not performed then the spectator must see their reflection in place of the work of art and thereby confront their act of seeing. The glass includes the beholder and the gallery space in the painting as a kind of interference or noise. It works to produce what can be described as a ‘making strange’ both of seeing and of the picture surface. In his essay ‘Art as Technique’, Victor Shklovsky wrote that the ‘technique of art is to make objects ‘‘unfamiliar’’, to make forms difficult, to increase the difficulty and length of perception because the process of perception is an aesthetic end in itself and must be prolonged’. Bacon could be said to cultivate just such an aesthetic, a teasing, perhaps even sadistic, one in which the pleasure of visual comprehension is, at least initially, deferred. The way Bacon’s paintings are framed does not detract from the pictorial surface for beholders but actually draws them to attend to it through the labour of divining what lies behind the darkling glass. The unruly reflections that thwart easy looking also constitute an assault on vision. The spectator is made to think about what it is to lose sight, to reflect on the invisible. "

Nicholas Chare, Upon the Scents of Paint: Bacon and Synaesthesia, Visual Culture in Britain, 20o9.

 

 

Paintings by their being are private personas and so solitary and anti-social and do not like being placed next to other paintings. Paintings are always uncomfortable and nervous when placed next to other paintings even if they often appear to be sociable and get on. Paintings want frames for reasons of privacy. Paintings demand frames in order to show their truth. When the painting becomes the wall is becomes a painted wall and not a painting: abstract-painting is necessarily indistinguishable from the wall that is from the painted-wall from being the painted wall no longer being an artwork. Abstract painting is the desire to naturalise art to domesticate art to make art a part of domestic life as interior decoration for that is all abstract painting can ever be.

To remove the frames from particular paintings is to remove their truth. The frame functions as the truth in painting. For paintings by Velázquez, Rembrandt, Titian, Turner, Van Gogh, Manet, Sargent, Cézanne, Modigliani, Picasso, Jawlensky, Nolde, Soutine, and Bacon the frame is imperative, indeed, absolutely essential, and the choice of frame is an art in itself. The wrong frame can murder the painting and turn its truth into a lie. Framers: be warned. The frame initiates and instigates and installs further truth to the truth in painting by framing the truth on painting. The frame gives the painting its absolute freedom to be incarcerated outside of being-in-the-world for the painting is not of this world and knows nothing of being-in-the-world and need nothing of being-in-the-world because the da-painting is primordial-dasein and the frame institutes and constitutes the being-there-not-there of the painting and not forgetting also that the frame severs you from your dasein when you are looking into the painting being beheaded by the frame: the frame beheads you from your there where you then become one with the being of the painting being framed by the painting after being sutured by the frame. You resent the frame-there being-there because the frame-dasein de-frames (thus negates) your dasein. The framed-painting is the radical deconstruction of the being-human where the frame reveals the artificiality of the painting as the artificiality of the human where the frame ferments a being-art of the being-human as being-alien as absolutely-alien.

The truth in painting depends upon the truth of the frame that frames the truth and the truth in painting is being framed being in solitary confinement framed in the truth that is painting being framed. There is no truth in the painting of Hans Hofmann, Ellsworth Kelly, Barnett Newman, Jackson Pollock, Mark Rothko because they cannot be framed and would look absurd being-framed for framing their paintings would be as absurd as framing painted-walls and wall-paper since their paintings share exactly the same economy as painted-walls and wall-paper (even though painted-walls and wall-paper are often framed by skirting-boards which frames. bacon was correct to nominate abstract-painting as decoration even though this is still a profoundly unfashionable thing to say even today.  Francis Bacon perfectly understood the radical-alterity of the frame in the way that the frame enhances and elevates the painting removing it from the natural world as well as the world of 'the everyday life' (whatever that means) and 'the community' (whatever that means). The fashion for removing the frame from painting is an attempt to bring 'democracy' and 'equality' to painting by supposedly setting it free. Yet paintings being solitary are anti-democratic, un-equal and anti-social and do not like to mix with other paintings.

Abstract painting is the always already wall-of-the-wall before the ereignis of painting before the coming-into-view of the painting added to the wall and abstract painting being the wall before the event of painting remains just a wall painted a painted wall and so it would be senseless and meaningless to frame a wall that is to frame a painted wall: a Kelly or a Pollock or a Rothko would look absurd and out of place out of wall by being-framed: abstract painting is the negation of art and maybe necessarily so for abstract art is absolutely alien to art that is to being-art to the being of art for abstract painting is cosmological in its constellations-in-infinity that simply cannot be framed: abstract-painting is that which is always already outside of the frame without having a frame of reference and that is radical-alterity of abstract-painting: abstract-painting as the refusal of the frame is the refusal of the being of painting for abstract-painting is the negation of being because abstraction is that which is without being: one cannot be abstract. Being is not abstract, being is not abstraction: being is image. Bacon said to Gilder: "To tell you the truth, no abstract painting has ever given me the exhilaration of figurative painting. In fact, it bores me. Profoundly When I first heard of Rothko, I thought, well, here is going to be somebody doing the most marvelous things, like Turner, in abstraction. But the problem - with all of abstract expressionism - comes from lack of subject. I think that no matter how far you deviate from it, you need the discipline of the subject. You need the pulsation of the image, the force of the image, to go beyond decoration. Which Rothko didn't have. It was always a beautiful decoration." (Francis Bacon to Joshua Gilda, Flash Art, May, 1983). Bacon was right about Rothko and Pollock yet Sylvester stated: "I said to Bacon when he put down Abstract Expressionism, so why do you think it moves me? And he said, 'oh, you're too subject to fashion', or something like that. Well, I didn't argue with him, and I didn't argue with him about his idiotic opinions about Pollock. You're not there to argue with the interviewee, but you are there to probe.." (The art of the interview, Tate, Issue 26/Autumn 2001).(Classical Music is not at all abstract or imageless as Classical Music is being-for-itself having the subject and thus having the image and is thus 'identifiable' as living-image as living-subject as living-being as a being-music.)

Abstract painting is profoundly petty-bourgeois with its home-interior background-decoration mural-muzac of soporific-sensations. Bacon detested the decorative 'homely atmosphere' of abstract-painting and said to Sylvester: "I want to isolate the image and take it away from the interior of the home". Abstract painting is cynically used as sedative background-decoration in bank-lobbies to comfort (and conceal) the violence of financial terrorism. Abstract-painting is a tranquilizer for the forgetting of being-human, being alive: abstract-painting has no tension or vibration of being for it lacks the being of the image since there is nothing-there and yet that is why abstract-painting has such an alluring appeal under consumer-capitalism: there is no threat of being, not even a trace of being. Bacon said to Sylvester: "I believe that art is recording. I think it’s reporting. And I think that in abstract art, as there’s no report, there’s nothing other than the aesthetic of the painter and his few sensations. There’s never any tension in it. I think it can convey very watered-down lyrical feelings, because I think any shapes can. But I don’t think it can really convey feeling in the grand sense." What Bacon says is absolutely true though this is not a fashionable thing to say and Sylvester - like so many uncritical contemporary art critics - followed the fashion of following abstract painting where intellect informs them and not instinct and the very nomination of an 'art critic' is an intellectual who writes about art (even though that is an impossible thing to do: this is why the 'art critic' does not actually exist and which is why there cannot be such a discourse as 'art criticism' (or 'art writing'). Sylvester was a slave to fashion and went along with the fashions of his day; Bacon did not.

The essence of the economy of the frame is the pull-push play of the frame as patently played out played in-on-out-of the fort-da-frame that frames as it throws and throws as it frames for the frame forges a frisson of nervous anxious tension as a dice of difference decapitating the painting from the presence the painting for the frame removes both the viewer from the painting and the painting from the frame as well as from the frame of the viewer who is unconsciously framing the painting within and without of the framed-painting. Thus the frame and glass cause you an alien anxiety and a dasein dread for they exclude you turning you away whilst also inviting you in.

To remove the frame is to remove the play of difference and distance of the painting that cannot exist without a frame being there: the frame gives the painting the dasein that it cannot have for painting is the refusal of dasein for the painting is its own da-sein without the dasein of the world. The frame as fort-da fort-throws the painting-ahead away from you only to ricochete returning the painting back toward you for the painting is thrown-ahead of you in order to be returned to you thrown at you away from you coming back to get you. Only by going too far can one get near so to throw the painting is to retrieve the painting and the frame is the thrower and the retriever of the painting as a dice-dasein.

Far from being a form of conserving concealing-containment the frame frees the form from the frame out-in itself where the frame is being-in-itself allowing the painting to be being-for-itself and as the supplement surplus the frame throws the painting in an infinite fort-da free-play: the frame gives the painting its infinity. The frame is the crypt which takes in and incorporates the being of the painting: the frame-crypt caresses the carcase of the painting keeping it infinitely fresh and succulently served: the frame keeps the painting fresh and free from contamination free from other paintings that may not be framed.

The frame does not mark a limit but ignites infinity and activates the artingness of art as artificially-real as the rolling reel removal from the real. The frame makes a difference marks a difference makes a différance marks a  différance in setting and severing the sensation the metaphysical mooding of the abjected-abimage: the frame is not a frame that frames but a flame that inflames inflaming the image igniting the image initiating the image letting the image be in-it-self out-it-self as an interstice inheritance. The frame deconstructs the Enframing of the sutured space of the art gallery which is a Frame of Containment: the frame decapitates deranged Political Correctness. The frame severs the face from the space of the subject: the frame radically removes the Face from the Head. The frame fuels the face - the frame frees the face from the space of the subject - frame decapitates dasein by beheading the head of the severed subject from being there to being thrown over there as an absent abjected alienality. The frame beheads the head: the frame beheads you from your body from your frame.

The frame for Bacon is Blanchot's entretien: that which severs sutures: separating by joining the out-of-joint alternating altarity between being-attained and being-abjected and so here the frame holds the head together apart decapitating dasein severing the subject form the abject. The frame is the between [entre-deux] delivering distance joining jouissance abjected-apart for the fort-da-frame is dasien-différance disseminating-dasein in framing the fermenting-presence of an infinite-immediate image - as an absence of a nearness of a farness as a closeness of a distance as near-by far-off the the frame is the infinite-interval in between Being and being by becoming the Unifying union of an Original origin delivering différance by diverting Dasein thus the removing the frame is the forgetting and negation of art différance as the economy of the frame is différance par excellence activating art.

Thus the Frame literally makes a difference as a radical différance severing the framed-spectator from the space-frame of the abimage: the fort-da-frame throws the framed-spectator out-of-frame-with-being-there: by removing the frame one unifies the spectator-subject with space of sameness that surrounds the framed-spectator so then there is no difference between the abimage and the spectator-frame thus the removing of the frame is a conservative act reducing art to 'decoration' and 'democracy' - and art is the arch enemy of 'decoration' and 'democracy': art cannot be elected. The fort-da-frame also activates and attunes the metre and the moment and the mood of the paint-being thrown-there: the thrown-frame flames-enflames enframes as it ignites-images ahead a head alive: the frame brings presence to the absence there: the frame is the dasein of the painting that cannot be there. The dasein-frame makes the impossible painting possible.

The frame ferments the enigmaticalness of the painting and the frame refuses the subject entrance and engagement into the painting keeping the painting private property and not public property and paradoxically this is not reactionary but radical for the artwork is a protest against they They being able to do art as against the democracy of art against the idiotic idea so fashionable today that 'anyone can do art' that 'anyone can be an artists' for art is the refusal of the everyone can: to say that anyone can be an artist is as absurd as saying that anyone can be a conductor: the fact remains: there are very few artists and conductors that actually exist and yet we live in a dumbed-down capitalist-culture where 'they say' anyone can be an artist, where 'they say' anyone can be a conductor.

The Abstrakter Kopf of Jawlensky and Study Head of Bacon share the same sensation of spirit and this spirit-sensation needs the frame to ignite and initiate its being-spirit severed from being-body that is being-flesh for both Abstrakter Kopf of Jawlesnky and Study Head of Bacon are stripped of the skin of being-flesh. The late self-portraits of Bacon are ghostly and so spiritual being-fleshless being-meatless where we are no longer just being-meat. One is reminded that was is remaindered in the late self=portraits of Bacon is flesh-made-spirit where we sensation spirit there where the flash has long since frizzled out and faded away where what is left-over is being-spirit.

The frame frees the form from the ground whilst grounding the form since the frame severs the form from the body of the world as the head from the body where the beheaded head is the freed form for the frame frees the form from the body of the ground that is the body of the world where frame frees the head from the body where the frame is the neck that is that being-in-between of the head and the body thus to frame is to free a head from a body. The frame enhances the painting and the frame completes the painting which is why framing is an art in itself for the wrong frame can wound a painting can ruin a painting can kill a painting. Which frame is the most important question for the life of the painting as framing both the mood and moment of the painting.

 

                                               Forging Bacon

 

                                                                                   

                                                                                       A very crude 'Bacon Italian drawing' forgery from the Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino Collection

 

 

"I love drawings, but I don't make them."

Francis Bacon, interview with Henri-François Debailleux, Libération, Paris, 29th September, 1987

 

 

"Is drawing what you do? I wouldn’t want to do that."

Francis Bacon to Michael Ayrton.

 

 

"In Venice last week somebody presented me an invitation to a show of supposed Bacon drawings. I walked for a long, long time and couldn't find it. But I know if I had, that I would have had serious misgivings about what I saw."

Michael Peppiatt, Writer Peppiatt revisits Francis Bacon, San Francisco Chronicle, Sunday, June 21, 2009.

 

 

"Brian Clark, the stained glass artist, who has become Francis's executor, made a very good point which I quote in that little article about Bacon's secret vice. Brian says Bacon made great lists of subjects, which are almost more important than the drawings. He adds that Francis was a very verbal artist and often it was a verbal idea - a word or phrase - which generated an image, and that, in a way, the real sketches were the lists of titles."

David Sylvester, In memoriam David Sylvester - The art of the interview, Tate, Issue 26/Autumn 2001.

 

 

"Bacon was represented by two fair-sized paintings of 1967 that had the impact of ‘big’ art, and on my first walk through the show they came forward in a way that put most things around them in the shade. But they somehow began to wilt when directly contemplated. The discrepancy between impact and substance in Bacon does not altogether compromise his art — at least not yet — but it does make him something less than the major artist he presents himself as being."

Clement Greenberg, Poetry of Vision, Artforum, April 1968.

 

 

"These notes are always precisely worded, to the point, and provocative of visual ideas. Bacon I think, was essentially a literary man for whom textural narrative, words and phrases triggered powerful visual images. Never a draughtsman, deeply vulnerable to the power of words, his most articulate and helpful 'sketches' took the form of the written word... the paintings, I venture, begin in words, not in pictures. He was really a poet. When Bacon said he didn't draw, he really meant it. The graphic works are not Bacon's 'sketches.' The real sketches are his notes."

Brian Clarke; David Sylvester, Looking Back at Francis Bacon, Thames & Hudson, 2000.

 

 

 

"I know that in my own work, the best things are the things that just happened images that were suddenly caught and that I hadn’t anticipated. We don’t know what the unconscious is, but every so often something wells up in us. It sounds pompous nowadays to talk about the unconscious, so maybe it’s better to say ‘chance.’ I believe in a deeply ordered chaos and in the rules of chance. I have to hope that my instincts will do the right thing, because I can’t erase what I have done. And if I drew something first, then my paintings would be illustrations of drawings. I want to create images that are a shorthand of sensation."

Francis Bacon, Unnerving Art, New York Times Magazine, August 20, 1989.

 

 

"Being a non-drawer (except for the odd scribble) and almost never a painter from life or from the cul de sac of the imagination, Bacon obliged himself to rely for imagery on secondary sources. Not Velázquez’s Portrait of Pope Innocent X itself, but scaled down and debased reproductions of it, ideal for his purposes in that they screened out the subtleties. Similarly, he used not actual bared necks but memories of a certain neck reinforced or clarified by suitable reference material. Why bother to draw when he was up to his eyes in printed matter salvaged from the outside world, imagery drifted and layered like alluvial deposits? Why not let the marvellously impure serve superior ends?"

William Feaver, Golf Grips and Swastikas, London Review of Books,  Vol. 31 No. 4,  26 February 2009.

 

 

"Anything that comes about does so by accident in the actual working of the painting. Suddenly something appears that I can grasp. Often, you just put on paint almost without knowing what you're doing. You've got to get the material on the canvas to begin with. Then it may or may not begin to work.  It doesn't often happen within the first day or two. I just go on putting paint on, or wiping it out. Sometimes the shadows left from this lead to another image. But, still, I don't think those free marks that Henri Michaux used to make really work. They're too arbitrary. And one's always hoping that the paint will do more for you. It's like painting a wall. The very first brushstroke gives a sudden shock of reality, which is cancelled out when you paint the whole wall."

Francis Bacon, An Interview with Francis Bacon - Provoking Accident, Prompting Chance, Michael Peppiatt, Art International, Autumn: 1989.

 

 

"I don't think it's abstract. I think Michaux is a very, very intelligent and conscious man, who is aware of exactly the situation that he is in. And I think that he has made the best tachiste or free marks that have been made. I think he is much better in that way, in making free marks, than Jackson Pollock. What gives me the feeling is that it is more factual: it suggests more. Because after all, this painting, and most of his paintings, have always been about delayed ways of remaking the human image, through a mark which is totally outside an illustrational mark but yet always conveys you back to the human image - a human image generally dragging and trudging through deep ploughed fields, or something like that. They are about these images moving and falling and so on."

Francis Bacon , The Brutality of Fact - Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester: Thames & Hudson: 1987.

 

 

“Today there is no tradition and no myths, people are thrown back on their own sensibility. Abstract art was perhaps one attempt at getting away from this, but it never worked because the artists made their own patterns in their own ways. That is why American art is, on the whole, boring. They want to start from nothing. I understand their position: they are trying to create a new culture and identity. But why try to be so limited? I am trying to work as close to my own nervous system as I can, but my painting is not illustrative and has no message; it is an image. If I wanted to express philosophy I would write – use words, not paint. Also painting is an old man’s occupation. Some of the greater have done their best work in old age: Titian and Picasso and others. So I hope shall go on and drop dead while working. When all is said and done what matters is instinct.”

Francis Bacon, The Images of a Master, by Shusha Guppy, Telegraph Sunday Magazine, November 4, 1984.

 

 

"Inability to draw might explain Bacon's initial decision to become a decorator. He had a real flair for interior design... Bacon's passion for belle peinture and his inventive handling of paint would usually but not always compensate for his inept draftsmanship. Though painterliness was a quality disdained by most modernists, Bacon realized this was the element that would enable him to tweak the onlooker's senses into accepting and indeed enjoying a painful visual shock. To enhance his paint surfaces he tried out additives—pastel and tempera—but in the end stuck to oil paint, which he manipulated with ever more gestural abandon. On an early visit to the studio, I watched Francis experiment. Ensconced in front of a mirror, he rehearsed on his own face the brushstrokes that he envisaged making on canvas. With a flourish of his wrist, he would apply great swoops of Max Factor 'pancake' makeup in a gamut of flesh colours to the stubble on his chin."

John Richardson, Bacon Agonistes, The New York Review of Books, Volume 56, Number 20, December 17, 2009.

 

 

"The question of whether Bacon sketched - because famously he didn't sketch, he didn't make preparatory drawings - and the reason of course is that his preparatory work is on the canvas. This is Bacon sketching, this is Bacon drawing, it's all here in these unfinished canvases, so he would approach the bare canvas with the skeleton of a preparatory work, and then begin to fill in spaces, and I think on the centre work [Three Figures] we can already see some of his characteristic motifs, the great arcs that he would paint, the boxes: the so-called space-frames that he would place around figures - it's all beginning to be put in place - but we don't know why these works were unfinished. He kept them in his studio, he didn't destroy them, they were obviously useful to him. So again, there's this idea that his preparatory work was directly on the canvas - he saved these because he was presumably finding them of use for the future - it's a real window into the artist's technique and his studio practice."

Calvin Winner, Francis Bacon: Sketching And The Skeleton In The Cupboard, Artlyst, 24 April, 2015.

 

 

"Rothenstein discerned contrary procedures in Bacon. Set against the retention in the mind over a long period of a particular, defined image were the happenings of chance and automation. 'He is capable of giving effect to a most precisely formulated intention or of abandoning such an intention - he does not begin a picture without one - in order to follow blind inspiration, when he becomes a sort of figurative action-painter working under the spell of the subconscious.' Bacon himself rejected any influence from action painting, particularly that of Jackson Pollock, saying, 'Starting from an image I want to be formal and vivid and yet to be vivid you have to be by chance. If I throw a lump of paint on the floor, it has vitality but no control. Pollock is not formal enough for me.' ... He painted uncharacteristic pictures of rushing motion in in nature, a 'Jet of Water' and 'Water from a Running Tap', in one case throwing a bowl of grey wash over the picture to achieve the effect in his personal form of action painting."

Andrew Sinclair, Francis Bacon - His Life & Violent Times,  Crown Publishers, Inc. New York: 1993.

 

 

"As the actual texture, colour, the whole ways the paint moves, are  so accidental, any sketches that I did before could only give a kind of skeleton, possibly, of the way the thing might happen... Of course one does put in such things as ears and eyes. But then one would want to put them in as irrationally as possible. And the only reason for this irrationality is that, if it does come about, it brings the force of the image over very much more strongly than if one just sat down and illustrated the appearance... I'm always trying through chance and accident to find a way by which appearance can be there but remade out of other shapes. If the thing seems to come off at all, it comes off because of a kind of darkness which is the otherness of the shape which isn't known, as it were, conveys to it... But, in trying to do a portrait, my ideal would really be just to pick up a handful of paint and throw it at the canvas and hope that the portrait was there... I know the part of the canvas I want to throw at, since I've thrown an awful lot... But paint is so malleable that you never do really know. It's such an extraordinary supple medium that you never do quite know what paint will do."

Francis Bacon, The Brutality of Fact - Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester: Thames & Hudson: 1987.

 

 

"There is no precedent for Bacon making finished drawings as self-sufficient works of art, like those in the Ravarino collection. The medium of the Ravarino drawings is not consistent with Bacon’s graphic practice. The studio contents revealed that almost all ‘preliminary studies’ were printed images, many modified by damage, folds or marks. Some printed matter or other forms of paper bear lines or notations. The small number of these lines, there can be only as little as one or two, and their quick gestural nature, suggest that they occupied the artist for a matter of seconds rather than minutes. There is no evidence of consistent use of any particular drawing medium or support with the exception of tracing paper (of which there are 12). Supports tend to be materials that were ‘to hand’, an envelope, fly-leaf, piece of card, or letter paper. There was no surface in the Reece Mews studio on which to accommodate sheets of the size used for the drawings in the Ravarino collection other than the artist’s knee. There are no pin marks on the corners of the drawings. There is no evidence of Bacon’s regular use of pencil. Bacon’s mediums tended to be ‘wet’– ink, felt-tip or paint; pencil is slippery on tracing paper."

Martin Harrison, The attribution of drawings to Francis Bacon,  June 2011.

 

 

"More recently I was involved in an expert witness case involving a number of allegedly fake Francis Bacon works that had been offered to a consortium led by an experienced dealer. This involved six purported Bacon large scale drawings that had been executed by the artist and given to one of his then boyfriends, Cristiano Ravarino. Ravarino has claimed that between 300 and 600 of these large scale drawings (depending on which conversation was referenced) had been given to him by the artist as Bacon did not wish them to be included with the rest of his known work.  I was then contacted by solicitors to value all the drawings and the ‘basket’ collection. It was clear to me from the start that these were works that appeared to imitate Francis Bacon’s style, without communicating any feeling whatsoever. Francis Bacon’s finished oil paintings have a contortion and tension about them that is unmistakeable. How could it be lacking here? After exercising due diligence and research into comparables, I valued them at a great deal less than the $1,000,000 or so that the new owners had hoped to achieve for each in selling them on. My report was then submitted. Can you be sure that you are looking at the real McCoy?"

Andrew Acquier, Feigned or Faux?, The Expert Witness Journal, Summer 2014.

 

 

 

"Early on, he said he didn't draw, he did no preparatory drawings. And I accepted that. Then sometimes when it was referred to later, I'd say knowingly: 'Well, of course you don't do preliminary drawings.' And he'd gone along with that, so the fiction was preserved. If I had been a good interviewer, I would have probed at him and maybe got some admission that he did draw. I had in my possession a little book that I'd stolen from his studio, which had a set of drawings in it. I put it away safely, intending to give it to the Tate archive after his death. I didn't then know that dozens of drawings would come to light, so the fact that I've actually lost the book doesn't matter. They were very sketchy little pencil drawings, but they were undoubtedly done for compositions. So I knew all the time that he did do some drawings, but I didn't push it. I should have probed more. I should have said something like: 'well, before you start painting, you're sketching an outline on the canvas; you begin by sketching an outline of the figure. Now, you've got to get that right in proportion to the canvas. Do you never do a try out on paper first? Seeing what size the figure might be in relation to the size of the thing?' If I had probed him professionally and persistently enough, I might have got something out of him."

David Sylvester, In memoriam: David Sylvester - The art of the interview, Tate Autumn 2001.

 

 

 

"Bacon never makes a drawing. He starts a picture with a loaded one-inch brush of the kind that ironmongers stock, and almost the entire work is painted with such brushes. In these broad brushstrokes, modernism has found its skin: the 'works' no longer show. The hole of the screaming mouth is sometimes the point of deepest recession in these pictures; or a little white arrow floats in front of the canvas and the rest of the picture starts at a depth which the eye judges to be behind the canvas; the canvas is thus rendered non-existent. But nothing can enter Bacon's pictures and remain abstract, and a small thing - an arrow or a safety pin - is anything but unassuming in a world of large undetailed forms. It is like a fly in a prison cell. It assumes the proportions of a Visitor or a Familiar, or even a Warder. The fact that nothing will be discovered about it increases its reality... Bacon is not making it any easier to paint pictures. His known works are few in number because he is compelled to destroy many canvases. When he works on a canvas, intellect, feeling, automatism and chance, in proportions which he will never be able to calculate in advance, sometimes come to an agreement. During the last twelve months these agreements have been more frequent; therein lies a hope for painting."

Robert Melville, Horizon, XX, No. 120-121, December 1949 - January 1950.

 

 

 

"To an existential artist like Bacon, chance is very important, both as a rubric for the universe (his hobby is roulette) and for what it brings about on canvas. Facial features are blurred as if they and the pigment from which they are formed had been pummelled into the final image.  (This is often literally the case, since Bacon paints with rags and his hands as well as with brush).  Look how close oil paint comes to the stuff of life, he seems to be arguing.  If the painter is lucky, impulses of memory and desire may allow him to manipulate the stuff so as to trap elusive and temporal personalities, and our feelings about them. Bacon would bring technical devices out into the open and reinstate them as images. The famous boxes which circumscribe his male nudes, popes, business executives and monkeys start life as methods of containing space and end it as prisons out of Kafka or, prophetically, scenes from the trial of Eichmann. His brush strokes become rapid at this time (he does no preliminary drawing) and blur into one another. Bacon is unique in this century in his ability to render the indoor, overfed, alcohol-and-tobacco-lined flesh of the average urban males. His painting is how most of us look. Like Eliot's early poetry, Bacon's paintings are documentaries of nervous stress. Given the era in which we find ourselves living, this comes as no surprise."

Grey Gowrie, Francis Bacon, Modern Painters, Volume 1, Number 4, Winter 1988/9.

 

 

 

"I have always hoped to make portraits which went far away from the illustration of the person in front of me, but then I could bring back in a non-illustrational way to his real appearance... because the place I live in, or like living in, are like an autobiography, I like the marks that have been made by myself, or other people, to be left. They're like memory tacks for me. I could do them up each time and cover the up again. For instance, this door, somebody broke it in a rage over something; well, I' left it because I like it like that, also the broken mirror and the papers on the floor. Discarded newspapers changing colour in the sunlight, bones and carcases that have been in the sea or sun and sand for long time, gradually change into other things over time. There is a kind of beauty in  that - a kind of magic. In my case, anything that ever works for me comes through accident, and accident which I can then begin to evolve from. I don't know what I mean. I don't know what this image here is (eyeing a reproduction) i was actually looking at a photograph of some birds diving into the sea, and this thing came out of it - this kind of double image, I don't really know what it is. I know for myself I wouldn't work if I knew what I was going to do. I only work hoping that chance is going to work for me it's the same time in everything. Most abstract art doe smoothing for me. I just always see it a a very beautiful or not very beautiful pattern. I feel that nearly all abstract art is really decorator's art, and that means to decorate a room, or make a 'pretty' room of lobby for somebody, and it is nearly always that. i know that most abstract artists would disagree With me, but nevertheless it doesn't mean anything to me very much beyond prettiness.

Francis Bacon: Remarks Frome An Interview With Peter Beard; Francis Bacon Recent Paintings 1968 - 1974 - March 20- June 29, 1975, The Metropoloitan Museumo of Art, New York: 1975.

 

 

 

"Turning from the Tate's holdings to the so-called X Album of drawings and collages - one part of the Joule collection on show, which has been unbound for display - the difference is startling. In these drawings, the figures are without shape, direction or volume, there is little sense of recessional depth, no reason for many of the lines. What is more, the collages and drawings feel precious, self consciously 'aesthetic'. These works are certainly not preparatory studies. My impression is that they were created by someone who already knew the famous painted images, but who didn't understand the anatomical or spatial complexities of the originals. Try though I might to sense Bacon's hand in a drawing of two nude figures lying against a green field, or of a prelate in a transparent box, or of a screaming pope, they feel flabby, flat, weak. My strong instinct is that these works are not by Bacon.  Now turn to the hundreds of photographs, magazine, and newspaper images also lent by Joule for this show. Again, no one doubts that these items were in Bacon's studio where they were probably stepped upon, spattered with paint or used to test pigment and wipe brushes: the question is, how much of the graphic work on them is by Bacon himself? For me, the answer is that, in a number of cases at least, Bacon did work over these images."

Richard Dorment, All your own work, Bacon?, The Daily Telegraph, 22 February 2001.

 

 

 

"By nature as well as avocation Bacon is a gambler. His ability to take a risk and win his wager, whether it be with life or art history, is part of his genius. John Russell (in his book Francis Bacon) has characterized his approach to painting as shooting for 'the National Gallery or the dust-bin.' The risk he takes in his large triptychs is dictated by the goal he sets himself: to achieve the freshness, the instinctive spontaneity of a small sketch without sacrificing any of the formal grandeur inherent in a well-composed large painting. To do this, he works directly on the full-size canvas, without benefit of preliminary drawings. In bypassing the step of adjusting scale, he eliminates the labored planning and cautious execution that result in diminished vitality in many large paintings. Once a background has been summarily blocked in, the figure or figures are fully painted in a rash of semi-controlled marks. If the result is worth preserving, more background is then added around the finished figure. When unsuccessful, the canvas is destroyed in the way other painters tear up their sketches. The dualistic nature of Bacon's art - the ability to maintain a balance between the 'vivid' and the 'formal,' to achieve the integration of small-sketch sensibility and large-canvas grandeur, to exploit the tension between figurative resemblance and the abstract accidentalism of technique - accounts for his success in eluding categorization."

Hugh M. Davies, 'Bacon's “Black” Triptychs', Art in America, vol.63, no.2, March-April, 1975.

 

 

 

"The big series of drawings belonging to the Italian journalist Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino are a slightly different matter. They are all signed, quite a few are in colour, including some which are quite elaborate collages. And most of them are recapitulations of themes that preoccupied Bacon earlier in his career – there are Popes and Crucifixions, for example. Ravarino acted as Bacon’s young boon companion and cicerone. They met at the Villa Medici in Rome but their revels were mostly in Bologna, Ravarino’s city of residence, and in Cortina d’Ampezzo. Their presence together in both of these places is attested by quite numerous Italian witnesses, some testifying under oath in an Italian court, when Ravarino was accused of selling forgeries (and duly acquitted). In my view – but I stress that this is a personal view – these often moving late drawings show Bacon meditating about themes that had preoccupied him at the beginning of his career. He is on record as expressing doubts about his Pope paintings (derived from Velazquez’s famous portrait of Innocent X in Palazzo Pamphilij in Rome), which initially made him famous. Here he was perhaps for once telling the truth. As an untrained, totally autodidactic artist, he never seems to have been completely sure about his own gift. Hence all the lying and myth making. The small selection of drawings on show at Porto Piccolo, a gated holiday resort on the coast near Trieste – a colorful Pope, a group of Crucifixions -were, to me, a reminder of how powerful Bacon could be, when working in secret, more or less entirely for himself."

Edward Lucie-Smith, Francis Bacon's Controversial Yet Moving Late Drawings Exhibited In Trieste, Art Lyst, 22nd July, 2016.

 

 

 

"The Barry Joule collection, as housed in Tate Britain, consists of more than 74-0 illustrations and reproductions from very diverse sources, 70 pages of drawings from the 'X Album', publications, periodicals, printed ephemera and approximately 4-0 photographs. Many of these items are over~painted, scratched or otherwise manipulated. The former owner of this archive, Barry Joule, claimed that Bacon himself had handed the material over to him shortly before the artist's death in 1992. The Joule collection had also been subject to both legal and art~historical dispute; the provenance of the material was questioned and its authenticity and Bacon's authorship were doubted by several scholars. In 1998, the Institute for Contemporary Arts in London cancelled a planned exhibition because of suspicion about the authenticity of the works. Moreover, even the Tate itself appears to be uncertain about the importance of the Joule collection. David Sylvester publicly rejected the material in 2000, Martin Harrison pointed to the 'extravagant and highly speculative claims' made for the significance and the authenticity of the collection, and Michael Peppiatt dismissed it as 'batches of highly questionable sketches and overpainted photographs'.  Harrison correctly observes that, 'irrespective of their date of origin, the markings on these documents tend to be made, somewhat haphazardly, in pink and magenta watercolour.'... The restricted colour scheme and the repetitive way the paint has been applied again suggest that these images have been manipulated within a short time span. Furthermore, the interventions - whether performed through the use of paint, crayon and pencil or by scratching - tend to be decorative rather than functional. "

Marcel Finke, Francis Bacon's alter ego? Critical remarks on the Barry Joule collection; Francis Bacon - New Studies: Steidle, 2009.

 

 

 

"An Italian who claims to have been Francis Bacon's lover for 15 years is fighting to prove the authenticity of hundreds of drawings which he says were given to him by the artist. Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino, from Bologna, insists they are gifts marking a relationship that endured until Bacon's death in 1992, but experts are divided about their origin and the drawings are now expected to be debated at the Courtauld Institute of Art in London next month. Opinion could not be more polarised. Edward Lucie-Smith, a leading art historian, told The Independent that he did not doubt the drawings were the work of Bacon, arguably Britain's foremost 20th-century master whose works now change hands for millions of pounds. Conceding that some drawings were not as good as others, he saw the master in images such as depictions of priests, related to Bacon's iconic Popes after Velázquez. 'They are the work of a Laocoön, a man struggling hard to escape from the entwining serpents of his own myth, and to return to the pleasure of making art for its own sake – no other reason than that,' he said. However, Martin Harrison, editor of The Francis Bacon Catalogue Raisonné, a definitive study to be published in 2013, does not detect the artist's hand: 'Anyone who's not blind ought to know from about three countries away, he said. 'The whole thing would hinge first of all on the likelihood... that Bacon made 600 presentation drawings.' Although Bacon denied making the preparatory drawings, authenticated sketches were found in his studio and others were given to the poet Stephen Spender and later acquired by the Tate. There is also an early filmed interview in which he admitted drawing. But unlike the Ravarino drawings, those were not signed. Umberto Guerini, Ravarino's lawyer, named several art historians who support the drawings' authenticity, and claims to have clinching evidence in scientific tests of the paper and studies of the signatures by a graphologist. He welcomed the chance to show the drawings at the Courtauld.

Dalya Alberge, Are these Bacon artworks really kosher?, Independent, Friday 30 December 2011.

 

 

 

"During the long period when Francis Bacon returned again and again to the compulsive task of painting a shouting Pope, many people found it difficult to come to terms with the fact that he is one of the greatest painters of the twentieth century. Since then the artist himself has come to their aid by giving the paint a certain narcissistic demonstrativeness, almost as if it were a personage in its own right, and like the bride who hogs the photograph of the happy couple, it has become, to use the obsolete phrase, the cynosure of all eyes. Some spectators who were hitherto repelled by the mixed emotions aroused in them by his imagery find no difficulty in considering the recent pictures exhibited in Paris and London as brilliant configurations of paint, addressed exclusively to the aesthetic sense. These paint-strokes, more active than anything in action painting, are as marvellously certain of themselves as the paint-strokes with which Rembrandt investigated his own aging face, and there are summary flourishes at the edges of some of the portraits - such as the heavenly blue swirls on the jacket in the portrait of Isobel Rawsthorne purchased for the Tate collection - which demonstrates a virtuosity as dazzling as John Singer Sargent's used to be. Any dislocation of the features in these portraits must be attributed to the artist's realization that the malleability of flesh is Nature's supreme gift to human pleasure. It will be seen that under the activity of the brush-strokes the faces retain the impassivity of the posing model, and ensure the slaps and slashes and the expert bruising with all the submissiveness of a multitude of Christs at the mercy of a single tormentor. Some of the paintings in his present exhibition would look at home beside Velasquez, for he has somehow come to a kind of neutrality. The paint has never looked more authoritative and voluptuous, and it gives what people think of as his 'tragic awareness' an almost ingratiating blandness. Pulling vicarious flesh this way and that, he has settled into a macabre serenity."

Robert Melville, Francis Bacon, Studio International, Volume 173, Number 888, April 1967.

 

 

 

"The lack of anything approaching a conventional drawing in Bacon’s output from 1960 onwards and the profound differences between his notations and the works in the Ravarino collection make it difficult to find comparators. The six notations in Tate that are executed in pencil on drawing paper (from two different sketchbooks) are the closest – see Man on a Bed c.1957–61 [Tate, pencil on paper, 254 x 190 mm. and Seated Woman c1957-61 [Tate, pencil on paper, 254 x 190 mm]. There are no precedents for Bacon notating a full face and features on paper. Even if we were to accept that the Ravarino drawings are a one-off, again the features themselves are made according to a different underlying principle than Bacon’s. Bacon looked at the marks that make up the eye in a Rembrandt. There are hardly any sockets to the eyes, that it is almost completely anti-illustrational... there is a coagulation of non-representational marks which have led to making this very great image. We can see that this is true of Bacon’s eyes as well. Most of his heads are more distorted than the heads in the Ravarino drawings; Three Studies for a Self- Portrait, 1979–80 [oil on canvas, 375 x 318mm, MoMA, New York is one of the least distorted, so gives us the closest possible comparison. Even so, it is very different. What we experience as seeing an eye and lid in a socket in the Bacon is, in fact, like the Rembrandt, a collection of swatches of paint; none of them literally and entirely describe the structure of an eye. The eyes of drawings in the Ravarino collection, such as Ravarino 2010 no. 39 and no. 4, collection are composed of a circular pupil, sometimes with a small black circle within, capped by a line that equates to the lid which sometimes even continues round to define the lower lid as well; Bacon would call this ‘illustrational’. Sometimes the eye is rubbed or drawn over, but in all cases there is a discrete diagram of the eye. The socket in Three Studies for a Self- Portrait is created by the same swathes of paint as the eye. A general glance at Man on a Bed c1957–61 and Seated Woman c1957–61 tells us that the Ravarino drawings lack the agility of line of the Bacon’s pencil notations."

Martin Harrison, The attribution of drawings to Francis Bacon,  June 2011.

 

 

 

"At first sight, the Joule collection contains familiar material and imagery: this applies to subject matter (politics, sport, war, medicine, etc) as well as to the diverse sources from which these images are borrowed (newspapers, magazines, illustrated books, catalogues, etc). The archive comprises images from the 1940s until the late 1980s: they were probably not worked on, however, before the 1970s or, more likely, the 1980s. Thus, the graphic revisions and interventions had taken place at a relatively late stage in Bacon's career. By the late 1970s and 1980s the artist's working procedures were well established and most of his methodological inventions had been made. Against this background the differences between the Joule collection and Bacon's working documents are striking. The most prominent feature of the artist's indubitable visual sources is their physical distress, namely the material transformation and dirtying. The wornout condition of those objects, the smudges, tears, fingerprints and accretions of paint clearly exhibit the longue duree of a process of change. To be more precise, the temporal logic of this constant alteration is characterised by a slow absorption of time that has left its traces on the items by degrees. Bacon's working documents are 'bearers of the marks of time', as Harrison observed. The overall impression resulting from examination of the Joule archive is that its production has been guided mainly by the attempt to produce the effect of Bacon-esqueness. A different picture emerges from the material in the Joule archive. At first, this collection of images seems to be randomly accumulated. Although it refers to the same kind of imagery discernible in Bacon's visual resources, it lacks the latter's idiosyncratic selectivity. Furthermore, the material distress, the manipulations and interventions performed upon the items in the Joule archive appear to be limited to a short period of time. Even more crucially, the reverse sides are seemingly not touched by time at all, for they lack fingerprints, grease stains or general abrasion. Indeed, the source material conveys the impression that the effect of ageing has been deliberately produced."

Marcel Finke, Francis Bacon's alter ego? Critical remarks on the Barry Joule collection; Francis Bacon - New Studies: Steidle, 2009.

 

 

 

"A brother of the man who inherited Francis Bacon’s estate sold £1m of fake drawings purportedly by the artist, a judge has ruled. A judge at London’s Appeal Court has rejected a bid to bring forward fresh evidence that the sketches are “authentic”. John Edwards, who was Bacon’s close friend and inherited his entire estate, died in 2003. Four years later, his brother, David Edwards, sold a collection of six drawings he claimed to be by Bacon for £1m, and several months later sold a further six for £300,000. But when the buyers then showed the drawings to the Francis Bacon Authentication Committee in October 2007, they were told the style was 'inconsistent with all the sketches and paintings currently attributed to Bacon' Martin Harrison, chair of the committee and eminent Bacon scholar, said the drawings were 'fakes', consistent 'in every way' with the style of other copies. The value of the paintings was put at just over £480. After it emerged that Mr Edwards had passed £425,000 to his boyfriend John Frederick Tanner before he was made bankrupt, Mr Tanner was ordered to pay the sum to the buyers as reimbursement in May last year. In January, High Court judge, Mr Justice Sales, rejected a bid by Mr Tanner to introduce fresh evidence that purportedly showed the sketches were genuine. And although Mr Tanner tried to appeal that decision, Lady Justice Arden ruled today that a reasonable litigant would have presented the evidence at the earlier county court hearing, and that there was no grounds for another hearing over whether the drawings are genuine. She said: 'The fault was on the side of the party seeking to adduce the evidence - in these circumstances I do not consider that there is any basis on which I could grant permission to appeal.'  Evidence that Mr Tanner hoped to introduce to the hearing included a statement from Ambra Draghetti, a leading graphologist, who said: 'I cannot but affirm that the signatures found in the Italian drawings are representative of Francis Bacon's handwriting, and therefore are authentic signatures.'..."

Brother of Francis Bacon's closest friend sold fake drawings, The Telegraph, 07 October, 2013

 

 

 

"Yet gambling to Bacon was hardly a real risk, such as risking one's life. Nor was painting a real risk, more like an accident within his power to alter. In gambling, once the wheel was spinning, there was nothing he could do about it. With a brush in one hand, he diced with chance, he was still in the game. And he played it with full commitment in deadly earnest. His concern over the survival of his best work lay not only in his efforts to destroy or deny his earlier or inferior works, but also in trying to stop a lucrative trade in fake Bacons that was started in Milan in Italy. The problem was that Bacon rarely signed his paintings, and the fakes bore no forged signatures, so that their artists could not be prosecuted for fraud. What the false pictures had attached were doctored provenances or attributions by small dealers. Two Italian forgeries of portraits of Isabel Rawsthorne were authenticated by a Chelsea bookseller and a London art dealer. The bookseller admitted that the portraits came to him from the 'gay network of dealers', and he should have put in his Letter of Provenance, 'in the Francis Bacon style [although] its was a strong Bacon and did speak so well'. The art dealer explained his Letter of Provenance by stating that when he wrote that he had acquired the 'Rawsthorne' portrait, it did not mean he had bought it. In the trade, 'acquired' did not imply ownership, as it might to ordinary people. He had not bought it for himself, so he was not responsible for verifying a forgery. There was also the problem of Bacon's abandoned paintings. He had left one in complete canvas in a coal-cellar which was sold in Sotheby's for £71,000. 'Before the sale', he said, 'Sotheby's, on my behalf, made it clear that it was discarded, but it sold. I can't tell you why people are fools.' He has cut up all the paintings he had discarded in order to prevent them reaching the art market, but but he forgot about some of them when he moved and others had been stolen from him. He did, however, take steps to deny the forgeries from Italy. 'I have even signed the backs of photographs of fakes, 'This is a fake and not by me.' But forgers have then cut out the genuine signature to accompany one of their latest fakes.' The Milan forgers, however, were making one basic mistake. They were painting on the front of the canvas, while Bacon painted on the unprimed back. But as his fame and prices soared, the forgeries multiplied."

Andrew Sinclair, Francis Bacon - His life and Violent Times, Crown Publishers, Inc. New York, 1993.

    

 

 

Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino Collection of 'The Francis Bacon Italian Drawings' and the Barry Joule Collection of 'Francis Bacon Works' are extremely bad forgeries absurdly and naively attributed to Francis Bacon. The Barry Joule Collection of 'Francis Bacon works' are crude forgeries; Joule may well have acquired the photos and reproductions from Bacon's studio but then sketched over them and then passing them off as being by Bacon. Joule's handy work is very crude and naive looking as though a five year old had scribbled over these photographs. The 'Bacon sketches' from the Barry Joule Collection are totally different in style, form, line and gesture to the 'Bacon Italian drawings' from the Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino Collection. One collection negates the other since their forms and styles contradict each other and cancel each other out. Nothing at all remotely resembling both the Barry Joule Collection of 'Francis Bacon works' and the 'Bacon Italian drawings' from the Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino Collection have ever been retrieved from Bacon's Reece Mews studio.

The 'Bacon Italian drawings' are very naively drawn and are too illustrational (and too literal) to be by Bacon whose painterly sketches are actually quite anti-illustrational.  Also Bacon's biro-pen drawings have an entirely different line to the 'Bacon Italian drawings'.  Some of the 'Bacon Italian drawings' have an uncanny resemblance to Bacon's 'baroque' gestural line and are actually quite good fakes. What gives the Bacon Italian drawings' away is the introduction of  rigid graphic art techniques and crude colour combinations that do not come across as authentic Bacon. Friend of Francis Bacon and John Edwards, the late Eddie Grey, was also given some of the 'Bacon Italian drawings' by Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino and sceptically said of them: "I have never seen anything like this before." Edwards gave Grey the keys to Reece Mews studio just after Bacon died and Grey stated that no works remaining there resembled the 'Bacon Italian drawings'.  Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino offered Alexander Verney-Elliott one of his 'Bacon Italian drawings' but he declined the gift knowing that it was fraudulent.

Pencil - unlike pastel or charcoal - is essentially an illustrational 'graphic' tool in its precision of sharpness of line - pastel and charcoal by their nature and being are far more textually non-illustrational in substance: so why would Bacon - who detested illustration - use pencil to draw delineated fine 'literal' (illustrational) lines with? Pencil was far too exacting in its literal-illustrational mark-making for had Bacon been interested in drawing-for-itself then Bacon who would have preferred to use charcoal and pastel and was a well-known lover of Degas' pastels. Drawing with pencil is essentially for making an illustration and for Bacon: "Painting has nothing to do with illustration, it is in a way its opposite, rather as decoration is also quite the opposite of painting."  (Francis Bacon, In conversation with Michel Archimbaud, Phaidon Press: 1993). Penicling has everything to do with illustration and so absolutely alien to bacon's anti-illustrational ethos and practice. What sense, what logic, would it make for Bacon do penciling which is the opposite to painting?  Bacon was interested in, indeed, obssessed by,  "the otherness of the shape which isn't known" (Bacon to Sylvester) and this otherness which isn't know is almost impossible to do with pencil due to the literal-graphic fine-line being-nature of the pencil-mark that does not have the violence of sensation on the nervous-system as oil paint does: pencil does not assault the nervous-system like oil-paint does: it is to do with the texture of pencil; whilst charcoal and pastel assault the nervous-system albeit at a different register and intensity to oil-paint, pencil remains lyrical and sedate. For Bacon working with a pencil is certainly not the best tool for Provoking Accident, Prompting Chance.

 

                                                                                                          

                                                                                                                                Lying Figure No. 1, circa 1957 - 61  Francis Bacon

 

Accident and chance are what Bacon utilised in order to trap and paint images and paint is the fluid medium that can achieve this goal but pencil does not lend itself to accident or chance: one can throw paint but one cannot throw pencil; or rather, the lead-graphite of the pencil: well, one could throw lead or one could throw a pencil at a canvas but what would be the point of that? Penciling on paper by accident and using chance can be done but the marks left would not necessarily have the poignant intensity that the substance of oil paint can achieve and penciling is made from a solid graphite material that simply lacks the flexible fluidity of oil paint. Pencil would not have given Bacon the kind of accidental and chance made marks that oil paint could give him and the rather static dry-effects of lead-pencil do not go 'straight to the nervous-system' like the wet-effects of oil-paint do.

Whilst Bacon admired Giacometti's drawings they still remain at the literal-level of inane illustration. Bacon admired the non-illustrational ink drawings by Henri Michaux which have the sensation of moving figures without being like the vague 'free-mark' abstractions of Jackson Pollock (who did not have the discipline of the image and the subject to anchor his 'free-marks' to and so the 'free-marks' remain at the lyrical-level of dreary decoration. If Bacon had needed to make preparatory drawings for his paintings, then surely he would have adopted the more ordered and imaged 'free-marks' of Michaux (and use ink). Bacon on Michaux: "I don't think it's abstract. I think Michaux is a very, very intelligent and conscious man, who is aware of exactly the situation that he is in. And I think that he has made the best tachiste or free marks that have been made. I think he is much better in that way, in making free marks, than Jackson Pollock. What gives me the feeling is that it is more factual: it suggests more. Because after all, this painting, and most of his paintings, have always been about delayed ways of remaking the human image, through a mark which is totally outside an illustrational mark but yet always conveys you back to the human image - a human image generally dragging and trudging through deep ploughed fields, or something like that. They are about these images moving and falling and so on." (Bacon to Sylvester).

 

                                                                                                                

                                                                                                                             Figure in a Landscape, circa 1952  Francis Bacon

 

Barry Joule and Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino are very poor scholars of Bacon for neither seems to have ever understood Bacon's essential anti-illustrational ethos of using 'irrational' and 'accidental' and 'haphazard' marks. Barry Joule and Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino are very bad Bacon forgers simply because they both made the stupid idiotic mistake of making literal 'illustrations' though to give Joule his due he is a slightly better forger than Ravarino in conveying a more textually 'painterly' free-play in his forged sketches - and yet they are let down by being far too over-worked and mannered compared to the Bacon pen-paint sketches in the Tate Archive which were quickly executed, sparse in line and never laboured. Joule and Ravarino must now be embarrassingly well aware of the comprehensive (and revealing) Bacon drawings and sketches held in the Tate Archive. Ravarino made the mistake of manufacturing Warhol-like far too many coloured bacon sketches and nearly all with exactly  the same traced forged signature; some of these s0-called 'Italian drawings' are so absurdly comic, cartoonish and childish that one is simply surprised and perplexed that they are still exhibited as being by Bacon. By contrast Joule tries to emulate-simulate a rough and raw grainy-texture found in sketches and drawings by Bacon but are let down with a contrived and controlled clumsy-naivety: Joule and Ravarino over-worked their sketches and drawings making them appear as complete artworks in themselves rather than just being preparatory works. Ravarino is better at simulating the swirling Bacon baroque line of beauty in some of his pencil drawings whilst Joule cannot simulate the swirling Bacon baroque line of beauty let alone simulate the Bacon stain and smudge. Ravarino seems to be producing 'the Italian Drawings' on  a daily basis with more emerging by the minute and more and more garish bright colour being added making them looking so childishly absurd in their blatant fakery.

In The attribution of drawings to Francis Bacon (June, 2011), leading Bacon scholar, Martin Harrison, produced ample evidence deconstructing the 'Italian drawings' as being fraudulent; notably that: "There is no precedent for Bacon making finished drawings as self-sufficient works of art, like those in the Ravarino collection. The medium of the Ravarino drawings is not consistent with Bacon’s graphic practice. The studio contents revealed that almost all ‘preliminary studies’ were printed images, many modified by damage, folds or marks...There was no surface in the Reece Mews studio on which to accommodate sheets of the size used for the drawings in the Ravarino collection other than the artist’s knee. There are no pin marks on the corners of the drawings. There is no evidence of Bacon’s regular use of pencil. Bacon’s mediums tended to be ‘wet’– ink, felt-tip or paint; pencil is slippery on tracing paper." This is a very accurate and acute attunement: pencil was far too 'dry' and too stiff for Bacon; even biro-pen has a 'wetness' and a 'chance' property - which the rigidity of pencil simply does not have.

Unlike Joule, Bacon never 'fetishised' or 'rarefied' the time-being memory-tracks damaged-traces of his reproduction-references whilst still being fascinated by how time was able to work upon them and transform-transmute them into something other where time took its time and transformed-transmuted the image from the wear and tear of time transmutation the image into something uncanny and unusual and unknown and so often suggesting something much more of poignant and primordial and 'other' by becoming a non-illustrational ab-images opening-up the valves of primordial-sensation through the 'otherness' that the tears and tracks of time have left-over.

 

 

                                                                              

                                                                                                         Illustrator Brett Whiteley drawing Francis Bacon's portrait, London, 1984. Photograph by John Edwards

 

 

Bacon said in revealing remarks to Peter Beard: "I don't really know what it is. I know for myself I wouldn't work if I knew what I was going to do. I only work hoping that chance is going to work for me it's the same time in everything... I have always hoped to make portraits which went far away from the illustration of the person in front of me, but then I could bring back in a non-illustrational way to his real appearance... because the place I live in, or like living in, are like an autobiography, I like the marks that have been made by myself, or other people, to be left. They're like memory tacks for me. I could do them up each time and cover the up again. For instance, this door, somebody broke it in a rage over something; well, I' left it because I like it like that, also the broken mirror and the papers on the floor."  However, Barry Joule and Cristiano Ravarino do not really know what they are doing when trying to forge a Bacon for they do not use 'accident' and 'chance', or 'arbitrary' and 'irrational' non-illustrational marks in order to give their flawed forgeries a true of Baconesqueness 'authenticity'.  Bacon always displayed an aristocratic aplomb and bourgeois ease whilst Ravarino and Joule are parvenu petty-bourgeois dilettantes disseminating a demeanour of unease and nervousness and this comes across in their fakes. Bacon the man is indistinguishable from Bacon the artist thus the debonair demeanour and flamboyant flair of Bacon cannot be faked, cannot be copied: one cannot copy 'style' no matter how good a faker you are and Bacon had style; Ravarino and Joule lack style, indeed, Ravarino and Joule have no style whatsoever. The Bacon fakes of Ravarino appear to be made by someone with Asperger's whilst the Bacon fakes of Joules appear to be made by someone with Alzheimer's. The Ravarino and Joule Bacon fakes are the work of someone with retarded development for they are 'backward' and 'dyslexic' and hardly the work of a complex genius like Francis Bacon.

 

 

                                                                                                            

                                                                                                              A fake Francis Bacon signature - Edward Lucie-Smith in Trieste

 

Faking Art and the Ontology of Time: A good faker will always know how to age the artwork yet Ravarino is not at all bothered about the time (age) of his forgeries making them appear far to fresh as if they had just been made (which they so obviously and blatantly have) whilst Joule both under-determines time and over-determines time all at the same time by over-working (over-aging) the aging of time on the front of the forgery but forgets to age the back of the forgery as if time stood-still and forgetting to age the underneath of the forged work so the back-side remains utterly timeless untied to the time of aging whilst the front-side is far too timed far too aged and so timeful by being over-aged by the forger Joule. For forgers Ravarino and Joule were unable to understand that the undersides of their forgeries have no marks of time no hand marks of time no imprints of time all the time not in time with the times of Bacon always out of joint out-of-sync out-of-time with the time of Bacon who took-time being-in-time with the time-being of being-art all-the-time being-in-time that is the being-time of being-art as there is no being-time of being-art in the forgeries of Ravarino and Joule that totally fail to tell-the-time of Bacon. In order to know fakes of Bacon one needs to know the time of Bacon and that is how to tell-the-time of Bacon. Edward Lucie-Smith knows he is running out of time and so before his time is up he wants to try and save time by being remembered in time by time as the one who took revenge with Ravarino against the authentic-ontic time-signature of Francis Bacon by faking the hand-signature of Francis Bacon faking the true-time of Francis Bacon. But in time all in good time Ravarino and Joule and Lucie-Smith will be eventually exposed for committing and condoning one of the crudest and cruelest art-forgeries of all-time.

Bacon rarely if ever signed his paintings, drawings or sketches so why are 'Ravarino Italian Drawings' signed and signed with the same traced-signature: another gross error. Yet a leading graphologist, Ambra Draghetti, said: "I cannot but affirm that the signatures found in the Italian drawings are representative of Francis Bacon's handwriting, and therefore are authentic signatures." Note the word 'representative' for being 'representative' does not actually mean 'presenting' the actual signature of Francis Bacon: a tracing of a signature can be a 'representative' of a signature that is, a 'representation' of a signature and these are 'traces' of signatures by Francis Bacon whilst not forgetting that the signature of Francis Bacon is relatively easy to forge anyway with very little rehearsal and practice and with no need for tracing.

It is patently clear that the Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino 'Italian Drawings' attributed to Francis Bacon have traced-forged signatures, and so Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino must be prosecuted for fraud added and abetted by the 'renowned' art-critic Edward Lucie-Smith who has, for some strange and perverse reason, aided and abetted the fraud privately knowing very well that the 'Italian Drawings' were blatant forgeries. Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino must be charged with fraud, as should and Barry Joule, even though his Bacon forgeries are not signed they are signed by the clumsy hand of Joule in that his artless hands are all over them and not Bacon's elegant hands.  Maybe the Francis Bacon catalogue raisonné art detective, Martin Harrison, could track down where all those crude and crass Bacon forgeries by Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino and Barry Joule were manufactured?

 

 

                                                                                                   

                                                                                                               Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino with Eddie Grey outside The French House, Soho

 

In order to give their farcical forgeries an air of authenticity Barry Joule and Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino gave a few away to either well-known figures or friends of Bacon so giving their criminal cachet cultural kudos. Watching The Strange World of Barry Who we see Barry Joule presenting Harold Pinter with a Pinter screenplay allegedly from Bacon's studio with an embarrassingly bad grey mess of marks attributed to Bacon on pages 144 and 145. Pinter looks rather perplexed and embarrassed by the uneasy and protracted proceedings with Joule coming across as rather creepy, furtive and nervous, as if about to be exposed as as a fraudster. It is high-tme that Barry Joule was exposed for perpetuating and profiting from the Bacon forgeries he has poorly produced and his coffee table book, Bacon's Eye: Works on Paper Attributed to Francis Bacon from the Barry Joule archive must be withdrawn from circulation; something that the Francis Bacon Estate should have done ages ago. Indeed, the Francis Bacon Estate should take legal action against Barry Joule and Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino.

Francis Bacon emphatically stated in 1989: "If I drew something first, then my paintings would be illustrations of drawings. I want to create images that are a shorthand of sensation.” The Bacon forgeries by Ravarino and Joule make absolutely no logical sense or aesthetic sense since they remain at the level of illustration and so necessarily negate what bacon essentially wanted and that was 'a short hand of sensation' thrown by accident and chance. Therefore Bacon would never make preliminary illustrations for working by chance and accident since it would be totally meaningless and a total waste of time. In the Bacon fakes by Ravarino and Joule there are no risks taken for there are no marks made by accident or chance: nothing is thrown. The Bacon fakes by Ravarino and Joule planned-out self-conscious illustrations with a 'finished' art-look: they are far too consciously 'arty'. Francis Bacon rightly argued that Time is the greatest critic and Time has judged the Cristiano Lovatelli Ravarino 'Bacon Italian Drawings' to be fakes, and Time has judged the Barry Joule 'Bacon Archive Works' to be fakes.

 

 

                                                                                                             

                                                                                                                                                                  Eddie Gray, Marella Shearer, Francis Bacon 

 

 

                                    Negating Narrative

 

                                                                                            

                                                                                                    Francis Bacon and Cecil Beaton at the Marlborough Gallery, 24th March, 1960 

 

 

 

"A story? No. No stories, never again."

Maurice Blanchot, La Folie du jour, Station Hill, 1988.

 

 

"All true language is incomprehensible."

Antonin Artaud, Here Lies, 1947.

 

 

"I've no story to tell. If you can talk about it, why paint it?"

Francis Bacon, Unnerving Art, New York Times Magazine, August 20, 1989.

 

 

"Each picture draws attention away from the narrative to the physical, to sensation, to flesh, death."         

Poul Erik Tojner,  The Mysterious Heart of Realism: Francis Bacon, 1998.

 

 

"Man acts as though he were the shaper and master of language, while in fact language remains the master of man." 

Martin Heidegger, Building Dwelling Thinking,  lecture, 5 August 1951;  Poetry, Language, Thought, 1971.

 

 

"The writer belongs to a language which no one speaks, which is addressed to no one, which has no centre, and which reveals nothing."

Maurice Blanchot, The Space of Literature, University of Nebraska Press: 1982.

 

 

"When we speak, we are leaning on a tomb, and the void of that tomb is what makes language true, but at the same time void is reality and death becomes being."

Maurice Blanchot,  Literature and the Right to Death,  1949.

 

 

"Writing becomes not easier, but more difficult for me. Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness. Democritus pointed the way: 'Naught is more than nothing.'..."

Samuel Beckett, Vogue, December 1969.

 

 

"Art negates the conceptualization foisted on the real world... Aesthetics cannot hope to grasp works of art if it treats them as hermeneutical objects. What at present needs to be grasped is their unintelligibility."

Theodor W. Adorno, Aesthetic Theory, The Athlone Press, 1997.

 

 

"Like the thing and the work of art, language remains outside the world; it withholds itself. If we communicate by means of language, language itself remains uncommunicative. It is self-standing, reserved, resistant to appropriation." 

Gerald L. Burns, Maurice Blanchot: The Refusal of Philosophy,  John Hopkins University, 1997.

 

 

"There's no narrative. I just try to make images, really. I mean, one knows through history to some extent what the sphinx is supposed to be.  I think what it is to me...I don't think I'm trying to do anything beyond make images that excite me. I've nothing to say in that sense."

Francis Bacon interview with Joshua Gilder, "I Think about Death Every day" Flash Art, May 1983.

 

 

"At the moment when language, as spoken and scattered words, becomes an object of knowledge, we see it reappearing in a strictly opposite modality: a silent cautious disposition of the word upon the whiteness of a piece of paper, where it can possess neither sound nor interlocutor, where it has nothing to say but itself, nothing to do but to shine in the brightness of its being."

Michael Foucault,  The Order of Things, Random House, 1970.

 

 

"In the lecture, The Origin of the Work of Art, Heidegger still emphasises, above all, that language is not a means of communication, but rather 'what makes beings as beings emerge into the open.' The mode of discourse in terms of which Heidegger explicitly regulates himself here in poetic discourse, or better: a certain highly determined type of poetic discourse, the hymnic speech of Hölderlin."

Jean-François Courtine, Phenomenology and/or Tautology; Reading Heidegger, Indiana University Press, 1993.

 

 

"The British painter Francis Bacon appears to struggle in his paintings with the same kind of problem that preoccupies Armando in his visual and literary works: How can one represent events in a nonnarrative manner?... As far as there is narrative, it is not the representation or illustration of an event that produces it, but rather then tension triggered by the way the pencil or paintbrush has been handled."

Ernst van Alphen, Touching Death; Reading Death: Sign, Text, Play; Death and Representation, The Johns Hopkins University Press:  1993.

 

 

"I don’t want it (the painting) to tell a story, I want it to give me a shock... I always hope to be able to make a great number of figures without a narrative... I'm not saying anything. Whether one's saying anything  for other people, I don't know. But I'm not really saying anything, because I'm probably much more concerned with the aesthetic qualities of a work. But I've no idea what any artist is trying to say, except the most banal artists." 

Francis Bacon, The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon Thames & Hudson: 1987.

 

 

"I have long thought that some things are so intimate that they can never be said but must be written. Writing does not merely create distance but also allows one to draw closer than any spoken word. This closeness must not be confused with presence. Writing brings the remote near by allowing presence to withdraw. The lasting lesson of Blanchot is that withdrawal opens up the space-time of desire whose absence is death. Though he has been taken from us, he will continue to give what is never ours to possess."

Mark C Taylor, Nowhere without No: In Memory of Maurice Blanchot,  Stray Dog Editions, Vagabond Press, Sydney, 2003. 

 

 

"Writing is per se already (it is still) violence: the rupture there is in each fragment, the break, the splitting, the tearing of the shred - acute singularity, steely point. And yet this combat is, for patience, debate. The name wears away, the fragment fragments, erodes. The gift of writing is precisely what writing refuses. he who no longer knows how to write, who renounces the gift which he has received, whose language is unrecognisable, is closer to the untried inexperience, closer to the absence of the 'proper' which, even without being, gives place to the advent."

Maurice Blanchot, The Writing of The Disaster, University of Nebraska Press, 1995.

 

 

"Man was an absolute 'mistake': an accident waiting to happen and leaked ahead from ' language' which wrote 'man'. Then 'language' left 'man' because the 'being of language' was always already 'alien' to 'man' - 'language' is not 'man made' - 'language' is not 'language' - 'language' is leakage - 'language' leaks taking leave of 'language' - 'language' never ever speaks - 'language' seeks - seeks to leak - leak ahead of 'language' - 'language' leaks beyond being 'language' -beyond the 'being of language' - as a language-leaking left leading away and ahead as an angoisse atonement aural-alien attunement."

Alex Verney-Elliott, Being & Alien, 2006.

 

 

"Talking was invented at the beginning of the 19th century and by and large it was an incredibly bad idea. It was fuelled by the mischievous, and really, intolerable idea, almost the ideal, of communication. People forgot completely that language is just another form of miscommunication. If it were a form of communication we could just say it - whatever it was - and then shut up and someone would have got it, instead of which, the world works by saying: I don't understand what your saying as if I don't understand what your saying is really the fundamental condition of culture. So it ends up with a completely loathsome advertisements for British Telecom where someone said about two decades ago: It's Good to Talk."

Mark Cousins, The Gesture: Gesture & Rhetoric, Architectural Association, London: 16 January, 2015.

 

 

"The most crucial tension of Bacon’s style, between life mediated by received images and life suffered in the flesh, can be awfully heady. In one of his caustic moods, he pronounced ninety-five per cent of people “fools about painting.” He complained, “Hardly anyone really feels about painting: they read things into it.” I disagree, except in cases, like Bacon’s, where reading things in can seem pretty much the modus operandi. With a Pollock or a Rothko, you either feel about painting or have nothing to engage you. But I find myself persuaded that Bacon did identify with the visceral sorcery of paint—though he wouldn’t maintain it across any whole canvas—and that he wanted us to perceive that fact, even as he perversely threw melodramatic scenarios in the way."

Peter Schjeldahl, Rough Stuff, The New Yorker, June 1, 2009.

 

 

"Let us turn briefly to the philosophical debate that asks whether a sensation is a thought. This debate has important ramifications for contemporary philosophical inquiry, but its origins date back to antiquity... Sensation, which cannot be reduced to ideas even though it is intrinsically dependent on them, can never be equivalent to Intelligence... Nevertheless, sensation can only exist if it makes itself intelligible...The difficulty of defining sensation prompts us to shift our discussion to a disorder that has attracted the attention of psychotherapists, psychiatrists, neurologists, and contemporary psychoanalysis: autism... I refer to this ailment because its specialists have offered a useful theoretical understanding of sensation and of the relationship between sensation and language."

Julia Kristeva, Is Sensation a Form of Language? ; Time and Sense,  New York : Columbia University Press, 1996.

 

 

"But what is a writer doing when he writes?  Everything a man does when he works, but to an outstanding degree the writer, too, produces something - a work in the highest sense of the word. In order to write, he must destroy language in its present form and create it in another form, denying books as he forms a book out of what other books are not. Language can begin only with the void; no fullness, no certainty can ever speak; something essential is lacking in anyone who expresses himself. Negation is tied to language. When I first begin, I do not speak in order to say something; rather, a nothing demands to speak, nothing speaks, nothing finds its being in speech, and the being pf speech is nothing. This formulation explains why literature's ideal has been the following: to say nothing, to speak in order to say nothing. This is not the musing of a high-class kind of nihilism."

Maurice Blanchot, Literature and the Right to Death; The Work of Fire, Paris: Gallimard, 1949.  

 

 

"A situation Blanchot associates with death. To write is to die. The literary work brings us closer to death, because death is that endless rustle of being that the work causes to murmur. In death as in the work of art, the regular order is reversed, since, in it,  power leads to what is unassumable. thus the distance between life and death is infinite. Death is not the end, it is the never-ending ending. Thus Blanchot determines writing as a quasi-mad structure in the general economy of being, by which being is no longer an economy, as it no longer possess, when approached through writing,  any abode - no longer has any interiority. it is literary space, that is, absolute exteriority: the exteriority of absolute exile. The essence of art, from this perspective, is the passage from language to the ineffable that says itself, the making visible of the obscurity of the elemental through work."

Emmanuel Levinas, On Maurice Blanchot, Proper Names, Stanford University Press: 1975.

 

 

"Language, in its attentive and forgetful being, with its power of dissimulation that effaces every determinate meaning and even the existence of the speaker, in the grey neutrality that constitutes the essential hiding place of all being and thereby frees the space of the image - is neither truth nor time, neither eternity nor man; it is instead the always undone form of the outside. It places the origin in contact with death, or rather brings them both to light in the flash of their infinite oscillation - a momentary contact in a boundless space. The pure outside of the origin, if that is indeed what language is eager to greet, never solidifies into a penetrable and impossible positivity; and the perpetually rebegun outside of death, although carried toward the light by the essential forgetting of language, never sets the limit at which truth would finally begin to take shape. They immediately flip sides. The origin takes on the transparency of the endless; death opens interminably onto the repetition of the beginning."

Michel Foucault, Maurice Blanchot: The Thought from Outside, Zone Books, 1987.

 

 

“To write is to surrender to the fascination of time's absence. Now we are doubtless approaching the essence of solitude. Time's absence is not a purely negative mode. It is the time when nothing begins, when initiative is not possible, when, before the affirmation, there is already a return of the affirmation. Rather than a purely negative mode, it is, on the contrary, a time without negation, without decision, when here is nowhere as well, and each thing withdraws into its image while the 'I' that we are recognizes itself by sinking into the neutrality of a featureless third person. The time of time's absence has no present, no presence. This 'no present' does not, however, refer back to a past. Olden days had the dignity, the active force of now. Memory is freedom of the past. The time of time's absence is not dialectical. in this time what appears is the face that nothing appears. What appears is the being deep within being's absence, which is when there is nothing and which, as soon as there is something, is no longer. For it is is as if there were no beings except through the loss of being, when being lacks. In time's absence what is new renews nothing; what is present is not contemporary; what is present presents nothing., but represents itself and belongs henceforth and always to return."

Maurice Blanchot, The Fascination of Time's Absence; The Essential Solitude; The Space of Literature, University of Nebraska Press, 1982.

 

 

"Bacon claimed to have no system of beliefs. 'If I wanted to express philosophy', he once said, 'I would write - use words, not paint.'  Bacon revealed his philosophy in his paintings and discounted talk, which asserted along with Balzac that 'hazard was the greatest artist'.  The sensations of his life were the sensations of his paintings. ... 'What is painted is sensation.' ... Once he was driving through France with a friend when they came across a bad collision. 'There was blood and glass all over the road,' he recalled. 'But I remember thinking that there was a beauty about it. I didn't feel the horror of it, because it was part of life.'  He wanted the visual shock on the viewer without preparation. 'Painting is its own language,' he once told an interviewer, 'and when you talk about it, it's an inferior translation.'  He would talk in 1985 of creating images which were 'a concentration of reality and a shorthand of sensation'. He had 'to abbreviate into intensity'. Equally, to guard his refusal to explain his work, he might say that he did not try to read it. 'I only know what it means to me formally.' A painting was a visual shock without a story. there was nothing in it 'except what people want to read into it'. the ways to avoid narrative or illustrative painting were by the abstract or by sensation, as Cézanne did.  The Hegelian idea of sensing and feeling was translated by Cézanne into how to paint, how to use spontaneity and temperament and instinct and the nervous system and the vital moment to create a picture."

Andrew Sinclair, Francis Bacon - His Life & Violent Times,  Crown Publishers, Inc. New York: 1993.

 

 

"I don't think that language enables people to communicate in the way in which people think that communication takes place. Frequently we see a diagram about what thought is and about what the relationship between thought and language and communication is: the diagram involves two heads, two empty heads, which have a thing in the head, like an idea or something, and sort of arrows will go showing how thought is put into language and out of the mouth comes an arrow and the arrow goes straight into someone's ear and when it's got to the ear it ends up in the brain and the second person now has exactly the same idea as the first person. This diagram, in different way, has been appearing for two hundred years: it's completely wrong, it's completely daft, it's so evidently wrong, and yet it goes on actually being celebrated as the fundamental account of communication, and therefore the purpose of language, and the purpose of language is to communicate what's thought. Language really doesn't communicate anything to anybody. If the function of language was to communicate something, there's something fundamentally wrong with language. Our experience of language I think is somewhat different from that. One of the things we know about language is that, although it gives us the wish to communicate something, we know we that never do, no sooner have I finished speaking to you, then I know I haven't communicated. In a sense you could say that language is rather the consequence of misunderstanding. The function of language is always to try and undo misunderstanding by proliferating it. Otherwise, if you think about it, once you have communicated something there'd be no problem, that would be it, you wouldn't be left with any residue."

Mark Cousins, Metaphor, Language, Thinking, Architectural Association, London: 1996.

 

 

Language opens us up out into the open-nothing where we know we can say nothing but merely be there letting the nothing-there speak us without us speaking without us communicating for all language is the art of non-communication where words have a sole duty and only aim to say the nothing and saying nothing is by far the most difficult 'think' to do because communication is always already about communicating nothing for there is nothing to communicate: communication is the necessary impossibility of language that allows silences to speak to us: only the language of dead silence communicates, not words which were always obnoxious obstacles for communication for the very last thing language does is communicate anything to anyone: language is the art of oblivious obfuscation and I only ever speak to you in order to say nothing to you: I have nothing to say to you and you have nothing to say to me: just as language has nothing to say to anyone for language only speaks to itself in silence: language is the saying of the nothing to the nothing said: I only ever use language in order to say absolutely nothing to you so you can hear nothing being said to you: I speak to you in order to avoid you and you speak in order to avoid me: language speaks to language in order to keep silent and say nothing to the nothing said and so all that can be said of the nothing said is that nothing is all that can be said and so must be repeatedly said into infinite nothingness said but the nothing-said is the silence-speaking-the-nothing-there so silently-speaking-the-nothing-there-said-to-the-there-nothing so. Language is so and so and so says nothing but so what says nothing but so there says nothing but so then says nothing but so be it so be nothing but the so and says sos

Writing is the forgetting of language for I write in order to forget language for writing is the very negation of language taking language into oblivion whilst also know that writing can never be language for writing writes in order to become pure sensation where the sounds of the words remove the writing of the words where sensation is the very negation of language for language was after all in the very beginning sensationing yet we entirely forgot that the aim of language was to sensation something and not to say something for language says nothing for language sensations and language sensations in order not to speak in order not to say since snesationing is the negation of meaning which is why writing is sensationally originally that without meaning where sensationing was what was first before meaning was given to writing and sensationing even if writing and sensationing are the arch enemy of meaning yet we need meaning for we absolutely fear sensationing-for-itself and so we always abuse writing when we try to give writing meaning for to give writing meaning is to murder language that is sensation

Literature's ideal aims ahead at art's ideal and that is to say nothing and negate meaning having nothing-to-say for literature needs nothing-to-say like art needs-nothing-to-say yet always we demand that literature and art literature as art say-something in order to say that we are also something and that we also have something-to-say when we have nothing to say and art and literature are the arts of saying the nothing to the nothing that is us always saying nothing always reading nothing always looking at nothing but this-nothing is not nothing-at-all but the nothing-all as-that nothing-there that is the total refusal of meaning as the total demand for sensation

To say what is literature is as absurd as saying what is art for literature and art are necessarily meaningless and negate the is and negate the what for both art and literature have no time for the is and for the what smirking in silence and those that are desperate to bring meaning to art and bring meaning to literature have an lack a da-nicht that commands and demands that they find meaning in art and find meaning in literature and this then is a totally meaningless exercise unless one makes a living or a dying out of making meanings for making-meaning is a means to an end and means to a beginning as a means for survival which is without meaning which is da-nicht

Writing is waiting for writing is waiting for dying and dying is writing at work for to write is to die and I write in order to die before dying dies me of dying for writing being-death is always already an absolute impossibility of death yet writing does violence to your death before your death comes for writing always says the end and when you reach the end you die without dying for writing is inscription inscribing-death as initiating-death upon you there  you are  reading  within you taking time taking real-time for true-time as ontological-time is reading-writing which is reading-dying as writing-dying and thus writing was only ever invented to rehearse the act of dying yet in order to avoid death whilst being-death being-dead for the writer knows that once the writing is done death still remains to be done but death cannot be done for writing as always already a dying refuses the writer the possibility  to die for an author cannot die being the author of death as being-death writing-death-with-you-reading-writing-being-death and so there can never be the death of the author for only an author can survive death

Writing like Painting and Sculpting demand that one begins blind by not knowing how to do it and this is imperative for only those that do not know how to do it can write can paint can sculpt since the not knowing how is the only way to begin afresh and anew thus writing and painting and sculpting are necessarily non-intellectual areas of activity for the intellect always gets in the way which is why those intellectuals can never write or paint or sculpt for they are far too conscious and far too intelligent and intelligence never made great writing or great painting or great sculpting for something always alien to the intellect is at work in writing in painting in sculpting

Language has nothing to say just like painting and sculpting have nothing to say for saying is not the function of language of painting of sculpting for why would language or painting or sculpting need to say something and to who for writing and painting and sculpting answer to no one and know no one to answer to anyway for writing writes for itself for painting paints for itself for sculpting sculpts for itself existing only for-being-themselves for their own ends with no other work existing in the world existing as the work-of-time being-the-work-of-time-for-all-time for writing writes for nothing but time-for-itself writing-in-time for time by time all-the-time-in-time

Writing is not thought and cannot be thought because writing as an act of time is the time of sensation as the sensation of time and so to write is to write the sensation of time at any given particular time and at each time the sensation of time is a different unique sensation to the given time taken so writing and sensation are necessarily alien to thought even if thought is written the writing of thought becomes the sensation of thought of a thought without thinking becoming-sensation through time so thoughts are merely the second-hand speech as after thoughts of a sensation of time so we do not have thoughts but rather we have sensations of times that become what are known as thoughts and thoughts are sensations of the time without thinking about something rather sensationing something which we think to be a thought but writing is not thinking but sensationing the time-of-being

Art does not have a language even though art speaks and art speaks without us being able to 'speak-art' without any of us ever being able to speak about art for there can never be 'art-talk' there can never be 'art-theory' there can never be 'art-writing' for such nauseating nominations as 'art-theory' and 'art-writing' are absurd oxymorons just as 'existential-theory' is an absurd oxymoron simply since existentialism can only be an action and never a 'theory' since by being an action existentialism cannot be theorised for theory is necessarily the negation of existentialism for 'theory' is not an 'action' even if 'theorists' would strongly disagree with this for obvious reasons for theory is that which cannot come into existence which is why theorists lack a dasein just as 'art-critics' and 'art-theorists' and 'art-writers' totally lack a dasein as theory is that which is not there is that which is not being

Language is Anxiety for language is anxious about something about nothing for the origin of language is anxiety for language came from the sensation of anxiety and so language was born in a state of anxiety and remains in a state of anxiety for language is always so anxious about not being able to say anything about not being able to say nothing for when language has something to say language has nothing to say and language cannot even say the nothing for language is anxious about not knowing the nothing as well as not knowing the something and so language remains always as an act of terrorism because language terrorises the subject in telling the subject that the subject cannot speak that the subject cannot control language that the subject is always already alienated from language by being inscribed in language and initiated out of language out of the impossibility of language saying something and the violence of language is the violence of deconstruction which negates the action of the subject in language as the absolute impossibility of the subject being an author of their own words being an author of a work and so deconstruction is profoundly anti-Sartre an in that deconstruction denies the possibility of agency and authorship arguing that the subject has no agency and authorship when coming to articulate language and work with words as actions yet Sartre and Bakhtin know that words can be actions and should be actions and often are actions where one is true to the words one says even if those words are always already there in the world they are also never ever before there in the world and so it is hardly at all surprising that Derrida derided and dismissed Sartre and why Sartre is never on the menu of the bourgeois dilettante dinning table of deconstruction. The elitist and esoteric and arcane language of deconstruction is the very violence of language against the very Other it so pretentiously (and disingenuously) purports to be 'open out' in a 'hospitality' towards. In the terribly violent and furtively passive-aggressive manoeuvres of deconstruction everything is 'always already' placed 'under erasure' (annihilated) and deconstruction always keeps a demarcated delineated distance from the Other by imprisoning the 'Other' in 'inverted commas' putting the 'Other' in a coma with a comma. Deconstruction violently abuses the Other by violently abusing Language as a textual-strategy to keep-at-bay the actual-material-real Other outside of the disinterested discourse of Deconstruction. And yet Deconstruction is not a product of the sophisticated, dialectical and diacritical bourgeois mind but rather the product of the petty-bourgeois dilettante

 

 

                                                                    

                                                                                                                                                               Ontological-Ooze Self-Portrait 2002 A.V.E 

 

 

                           Freud & Bacon: Fort Da Froth  

 

                                                                                             

                                                                                                    "The foam of the unconscious locked around it - which is its freshness."  Francis Bacon            

 

 

                                                                                                              

      

 

"The Aim of all Life is Sensation."

Alexander Verney-Elliott.

 

 

"You can find the whole of Freud in Nietzsche." 

Francis Bacon,  Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma; Peppiatt, 1996.      

 

 

"Fact leaves its ghost.. .all the foam of its freshness...The subject is the bait."   

Francis Bacon, 1909-1992.

 

 

"Lifetime is a child playing, moving pieces on a board. The kingdom is a child's."

Heraclitus (535-475 BC).

 

 

"What haunts are not the dead, but the gaps left within us by the secrets of others."

Nicolas Abraham, Notes on the Phantom, 1987: 287; Critical Inquiry 13.

 

 

"We are always hounding ourselves. We have been made aware of this side of ourselves by Freud."

Francis Bacon,  In conversation with Hugh Davies, 1983.

 

   

"Bacon did something only possible after the first generation of  of Freudians - he painted traumas."

Andrew Sinclair, Francis Bacon: His Life & Violent Times, 1993, Crown Publishers, Inc., New York.

 

 

"To be mistaken about the rhythm of a sentence is to be mistaken about the very meaning of a sentence."

Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, 1886.

 

 

"We all live by the hidden areas of our make up... Instinct arises out of that whole unconscious sea inside us."

Francis Bacon,  from  Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma, Michael Peppiatt,  Westview Press, 1996.      

 

 

"World-time - it is a child, playing, moving the pebbles to and fro on a board, of such a child is the mastery over being."

Martin Heidegger, Aletheia: Heraclitus Fragment, 1946.

 

 

"Psychoanalysis must aspire to the sensation of music to hear the alien ather. The unconscious is structured like a score."  

Alex Verney-Elliott, School of Francis Bacon, 2004.

 

 

"It is my mother who is my music. It is her voice that speaks in it. I wanted to shout forth what she was never able to say."

Allan Pettersson, 1911-1980.

 

 

"Abject Alien Art Aspires to the Alien Condition of the Nailed Nervous System Penetrating  the Body Beyond the Pleasure Principle."

Alex Verney-Elliott, School of Francis Bacon,  2002.

 

 

"Music is the effort we make to explain to ourselves how our brains work. We listen to Bach transfixed because this is listening to a human mind."

Lewis Thomas (1913-94), The Medusa and the Snail, On Thinking about Thinking, 1979.

 

 

 

"Truly fertile Music, the only kind that will move us, that we shall truly appreciate, will be a Music conducive to Dream, which banishes all reason and analysis. One must not wish first to understand and then to feel. Art does not tolerate Reason."

Albert Camus, Essay on Music, Algiers, June 1932.

 

 

 

"Without a doubt, time frequently washes up much that seems flotsam, wastage, mere wreckage.  Suppose time is like the fitful sleep of a child. We are the child's shout in the dark. Sometimes, too, the child wakes up and even plays."

William Desmond, Desire, Dialectic and Otherness, Yale University Press, 1987.

 

 

 

"Physiology of art apparently takes as its object to be a process of nature that bubbles to the surface in the manner of an eruptive state of rapture. Such a state would evanesce without deciding anything, since nature knows no realm of decision."

Martin Heidegger, The Grand Style; The Will to Power as Art; Nietzsche, Harper Collins, 1991.

 

 

 

"It seems to come straight out of what we choose to call the unconscious  with the foam of the unconscious locked around it - which is its freshness."

Francis Bacon, The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon,  David Sylvester, Thames and Hudson, 1987.     

  

 

 

"In the state between being and non-being, everywhere the possible becomes real, the real ideal, and in art's free imitation the dream is a terrible one, terrible but divine."

Johann Christian Friedrich Hölderlin (1770 - 1843).

 

 

 

"Freud said beautifully that a dream-come-true is a nightmare. Whenever we make love, we have obscure fantasies sustaining us. But they have to remain in the unconscious. The most horrible thing that can happen is to have those fantasies realized."

Slavoj Zizek, Index Magazine, 2005.   

 

 

 

"Since Plato, it is the old philosophical injunction: to learn to live is to learn to die. Less and less, I have not learned to accept death. I remain uneducable about the wisdom of learning to die."

Jacques Derrida,  Le Monde interview, August, 2004.

 

 

 

"He who wills adds in this way the sensations of pleasure of the successful executive agents, the serviceable 'under-wills' or under-souls - for our body is only a social structure composed of many souls - to his sensations of pleasure as commander."

Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, Penguin Classics, 1973.

 

 

 

"What is the meaning of death in the twentieth century, when millions of lives have been extinguished and the possibility of annihilating human life altogether remains open? Is there an art of dying which is useful in this time and circumstance?"

Edith Wyschogrod, Spirit in Ashes : Hegel, Heidegger, and Man-Made Mass Death, Yale University Press, 1985.

 

 

 

"What does the psyche look-like? What does the psyche leak-like? What does the psyche smell-like? The psyche smells like fresh semen - the psyche looks-leaks like fresh-froth - the semen of the subconscious for Bacon becomes:  'the foam of the unconscious locked around it - which is its freshness.' - and thrown forth as a fort-da-froth."

Alexander Verney-Elliott, Being & Alien, 2006.

 

 

 

"Rapture does not mean mere chaos that churns and foams, the drunken bravado of sheer riotousness and tumult. When Nietzsche says 'rapture' the word has a sound and sense utterly opposed to Wagner's. For Nietzsche rapture means the most glorious victory of form...Rapture as a state of feeling explodes the very subjectivity of the subject. By having a feeling for beauty the subject has already come out of himself; he is no longer subjective, no longer a subject...Rapture is the basic mood; beauty does the attuning."

Martin Heidegger. Rapture as Form-engendering Force; Nietzsche Volumes One & Two;  Harper Collins, 1991.

 

 

 

"One day, when I was 15 or 16 years old, I saw a dog having a shit and I realised at that moment that I was going to die. I think there is a difficult moment in the life of a man. The moment when he discovers that youth is not eternal. On this day I realised this. I thought about death and since then, I think about death everyday. "

Francis Bacon,  The Last Interview with Francis Giacobetti, 1991-1992.

 

 

 

"The phantom is a formation of the unconscious that has never been conscious for good reason. It passes - in a way yet to be determined - from the parent's unconscious into the child's. Clearly, the phantom has a function different from dynamic repression. The phantom's periodic and compulsive return lies beyond the scope of symptom-formation in the sense of a return of the repressed; it works like a ventriloquist, like a stranger within the subject's own mental topography."

Nicolas Abraham, Notes on the Phantom, 1987: 287; Critical Inquiry 13.

 

 

 

"I think about nothing but death, I think about it all the time, ten seconds don't go by without the imminence of the thing being there. I never stop analysing the phenomenon of 'survival' as the structure of surviving, it's really the only thing that interests me, but precisely insofar as I do not believe that one lives on post mortem."

Jacques Derrida,  Interview with Gianni Vattimo,  A Taste for the Secret, Polity Press, 2001.

 

 

"Art activated is not a wish-fulfillment but a dread-fulfillment. Not even a dread-fulfillment but a dread-emptiment. Art alien does not attune to desire but to dread. Art alien decapitates itself from desire. Art alien negotiates the negative. Art alien wishes for nothing but the fulfillment of its own demise."

Alex Alien, School of Francis Bacon, 2005.

 

 

"Interpreting by dreams.— That which we sometimes do not know or feel precisely while awake—whether we have a good or a bad conscience towards a particular person—the dream informs us of without any ambiguity."

Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human, Preface to Second Edition, 1886.

 

 

"Nietzsche's good association with his father was music....Consequently music gives us our greatest insight into Nietzsche's nature. Freud saw too few clues extant to Nietzsche's sexuality partly because he was afraid to read him, partly because the founding father of psychoanalysis was notoriously indifferent to music."

Lesley Chamberlain, Nietzsche in Turin, Picador, New York, 1996.

 

 

"Céline's journey, to the end of his night, will also encounter rhythm and music as being the only way out, the ultimate sublimation of the unsignifiable. Contrary to Joyce, however, Céline will not find salvation in it....Music, rhythm, rigadoon, without end, for no reason."

Julia Kristeva, Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection,  Columbia University Press, 1980.

 

 

"The hysterical dimension interests me a lot...I glorify hysterical actions. They are powerful gestures, a form of resistance when one is in a weak position. Hysteria is at the same time a falling apart into many pieces, an ecstasy, and a personal exorcism. You can see this with children: I try to honour their movements because, in the end, this is how one gets to know them. Sometimes it is better to say things with movements than with words."

Pipilotti Rist, Fantasy And Distraction: An Interview with Pipilotti RistAfterimage, November 2000.

 

 

 

"Ernest Jones says that Freud's aversion to music was well known to his colleagues...Freud's avoidance of music was part of his wider need to control emotion, for music has the power to evoke a range of feelings in the listener, to carry one away on a tide of romantic passion or bring on sadness and grief, and these were the reactions that he had to suppress at all costs."

Louis Breger, Freud: Darkness in the Midst of Vision, Wiley & Sons, 2000.

 

 

 

"For Freud 'woman' is always already essentially Egyptian - that is - ego-free - being-animal - being-alien - as being ather - to being human - to being man - to being man-made.  For Freud  - as an ego-free Egyptian - and a curator and collector of Egyptian Memorabilia - masturbated molested memorabilia - as an answering angoisse antiquity - answering an alien ather: 'woman'. For Freud there is no 'woman' - no 'sexual-difference' - only an 'alien difference' - no 'human condition' - only an 'alien condition' - an Egyptian Ereignis.  As aliens the Egyptians had no ego - no psyche - no drives - no desires - no needs. For Freud 'woman' was always already 'alien'..."

Alex Verney-Elliott, Being & Alien, 2006.

 

 

 

"Céline is our contemporary because he makes us confront his music and his solitude...The music and structure of Céline's texts speak about the right to be different, but Céline didn't know it...I would also note how much Céline celebrates music, which is reflected in the theme of vocal phenomena...It was once considered very important to speak as a woman... My view of Céline's relationship to women is that he saw women as a mirage and an element of fascination. I prefer to see the woman (or the feminine element) in Céline through the rhythm and music of his writing rather than through his fantasies."

Julia Kristeva, On Céline: Music and the 'Blunder', Interview with Jacques Henric, 1976.

 

 

 

"Art is a representation independent of the principle of explanation; it doesn't follow the rules of conscious rationality, but images were preserved in it that were once matters of metaphysics or religion. As the highest art, music is an expression of the world will, which reveals objectification out of its boundless forms of objectification. Schopenhauer was actually working out one of Leibniz's notions: 'Music is the movement of philosophy ignorantly exercised in metaphysical darkness'. Art is thus the legitimate development of metaphysics by other means, and music an unconscious exercise in metaphysics in which the spirit is unaware that it is philosophising."

Otto Pöggeler, The Paths of Heidegger's Life and Thought, Humanity Books, 1998.

 

 

 

"In unconscious life negation must be regarded as a productive force rather than a limitation, or privation, of objects there might be for experience. Freud insists that the unconscious does not understand negation in its conventional sense, any more than it understands the conventional categories of space, time  and causality. The unconscious is not governed by those transcendental categories by which philosophers have sought to police the operations of what used to be called the 'mind'. It is possessed by an unstoppable positivity. The unconscious experience of a 'negative object' is positive, real and direct."  

Mark Cousins, The Ugly, AA Files, Number 29, Summer, 1995.

 

 

"The subject in responsibility is alienated in the depths of its identity with an alienation that does not empty the same of its identity, but constrains it to it, with an unimpeachable assignation, constrains it to it  as no one else,  where no one could replace it. The psyche, a uniqueness outside of concepts, is a seed of folly, already a psychosis. It is not an ego, but me under assignation."

Emmanuel Levinas,  Otherwise than Being: or, Beyond Essence,  Trans. Alphonso Lingis, The Hague, 1981.

 

 

"The phantom is not at all the product of the subject’s self-creation by means of the interplay between repressions and interjections. The phantom is alien to the subject who harbours it. Moreover, the diverse manifestations of the phantom, which we call haunting, are not directly related to instinctual life and are not to be confused with the return of the repressed..." 

Mária Török (1925-1998).

 

 

"Among artists of the highest rank, such as Beethoven and Rembrandt, the sharpest sense reality was joined with estrangement from reality; this, truly, would be a worthwhile object for the psychology of art. It would need to decipher the artwork not just as being like an artist but as being unlike as well, as labour on a reality resisting the artist. If art has psychoanalytic roots, then they are the roots of fantasy in the fantasy of omnipotence. This fantasy includes the wish to bring about a better world. This frees the total dialectic, whereas the view of art as a merely subjective language of the unconscious does not even touch it. Kant's aesthetics is the antithesis of Freud's theory of art as wish fulfillment...Only dilettantes reduce everything in art to the unconscious, repeating clichés. In artistic production, unconscious forces are one sort of impulse, material among  many others."

Theodore W. Adorno, Aesthetic Theory, The Athlone Press, London, 1997.

 

 

"At what age is oneself? At what point does one become oneself - as a body? At what age does one become oneself so that after you can refer to the processes which occur to you as a kind of erosion from your proper being?...At what age do you become your proper being? At what age do you have your proper body? It's as if the moment of the proper body never exists - its just that you have one or two relations to it: either you're still growing towards it - or is already after it - so there is here, as it were, a proper body to which, at a certain point in your life, you're always tending and after a certain point you're already losing - the problem is you never had the moment of your proper body - or very rare...That literary recreation of the moment of the proper body shows that it's done from the point of view of always already having past...We do have - we are an ideal body to which once we were tending towards since which we've been declining from and unfortunately we never registered the moment when we were actually there - because  we're never there. Our relation to our body - amongst all the other relations to our body that we have - is always mortified by the category of time - mortified in the sense that it is time which always keeps us a phase apart from possessing our own body."

Mark Cousins, Wear & Tear: Damage, Architectural Association, 21.6.1996.

 

 

"Let us turn briefly to the philosophical debate that asks whether a sensation is a thought. This debate has important ramifications for contemporary philosophical inquiry, but its origins date back to antiquity... Sensation, which cannot be reduced to ideas even though it is intrinsically dependent on them, can never be equivalent to Intelligence... Nevertheless, sensation can only exist if it makes itself intelligible...The difficulty of defining sensation prompts us to shift our discussion to a disorder that has attracted the attention of psychotherapists, psychiatrists, neurologists, and contemporary psychoanalysis: autism... I refer to this ailment because its specialists have offered a useful theoretical understanding of sensation and of the relationship between sensation and language."

Julia Kristeva, Is Sensation a Form of Language? Time and Sense,  New York : Columbia University Press, 1996.

 

 

"Psychoanalysis can only domesticate the demonic by placing it in the confines of regression therapy. There is something that haunts the present life, life as presence. For Deleuze this is repetition: not as regression but as originary difference, announcing not the return of the repressed (the past) but the evil spirits of the alien future; or rather, the time of Aion as opposed to the time of Chronos. This is the time of the  Event (the time of eternal return)."

Keith Ansell Pearson, Evil Spirits: Nihilism & The Fate of Modernity, Manchester University Press, 2000.

 

 

 

"A scene of hysteria. And that's how all of Bacon's series of spasms might be described: scenes of horror, vomit, and excrement, where the body is always attempting to escape by means of one of its organs in order  to reach the expanse of color, the material structure. Bacon has often said that shadow in the domain of the Figures has just as much presence as the body; but shadow is the body that has itself escaped through some localized point or another  in the contour. And the scream, Bacon's scream, is the operation through which the entirety of the body escapes through the mouth. All the thrusts and pulsions of the body."  

Gilles Deleuze,  Athleticism, The Logic of Sensation,  Flash Art,   May 1983.

 

 

 

"Bacon needs to renounce natural logic and upset it in the act of painting in order to reveal and transform into comprehensible terms something originating in the unconscious: the complex, multiple, and contradictory mass of emotions and the obsessive images that arouse it. This is its material, nothing other than the experience of human existence and the unconscious substrate over which it passes. Through revelation of the unconscious in painting, the insignificant existence of the individual rises to the grandness of a mythical experience: to a condition that transforms an infinitude of empirical experiences into the tragic story of mankind."

Luigi Ficacci, Bacon, 'Obsessed by Life', The Expression of Horror, Taschen, 2003.

 

 

 

"What Bacon accomplishes is a linkage of the power of the painterly process to the power of social authority. This is the source of the real sexual hysteria and theatricality of his paintings... It can be inferred from Bacon's paintings that he would agree with Anthony  Storr in the idea that hysterical exhibitionism is a 'defense against depression' in a person who regards him - or herself as defeated, and as a defense against recognition of the lack of ideal persons in the world. But, at the same time,  Bacon seems to posit hysteria as in its own dramatic way an ideal mode of representing  oneself as a person. But there is a paradox here, for this idealization has an archaeologistic basis. In hysteria a person attempts to immorrtalize him - or herself by becoming extravagantly demonstrative, exhibitionistic, in affect announcing his or her being as absolute and indisputable. It is given a surplus of presence, as it were....The painterliness  that gives hysterical flair to the person also mutilates that being into oblivion, generalizing it toward nonbeing. That something can be so real and at the next moment an illusion belonging to the past expresses the ambivalence endemic in archaeologism. All Bacon's figures exist in a time warp, at once radically contemporary yet belonging to a dead world. Bacon's hysterical painting is paradoxical, and never more so than when it gives authority to inherently unauthoriitative, almost banal figures."

Donald Kuspit, Hysterical PaintingArt Forum, January, 1986.

 

 

 

"Despite the different context and idiom of their respective ideas, both Nietzsche and Freud invoke an accursed will to repetition which conducts thinking to the black heart of Sisyphean futility. For Nietzsche, the demonic threat of a meaningless life endlessly relived is the apogee of nihilism; for Freud, the compulsion to repeat is a manifestation of the organism's longing to die. For each, the hapless subject of modernity is traumatized by the stirring of dark forces from within, fated to aggravate its lacerated pride in its pathetic attempts at self-overcoming...Nietzsche's darkly cryptic thought of the eternal return resists the status of an epistemological principle and by that very fact conducts thinking to the edge of madness. If desire thirsts for its own oblivion this is only true to the extent that it simultaneously thirsts to escape its own destiny. We are good because we lack the strength to be evil but we 'are' will to power and nothing besides."

Jill Marsden, Interminable Intensity; Nietzsche's Demonic Nihilism; Evil Spirits: Nihilism & The Fate of Modernity, Manchester University Press, 2000.

 

 

 

 "Let's make clear, as it were, who's on the couch and who's behind the couch in one's relation to the painting. It is vital to recognize that it is not we - qua analyst - who are there to analyse the painting - if my argument is going to be sustained - it is to the function of the painting to analyse us. You might say: 'how can a painting speak?'...Well actually of course, it's almost true that a real analyst can't speak...We are its patient. It is there to interpret us..." 

 Mark Cousins,  Architectural Association, Lecture, 1 February, 2002.

 

 

        

"Considering the popularity of his images, then there is clearly a pleasure in this painful encounter, despite the damage Lacan says such an encounter elicits.  Of course, I am talking about a masochistic attraction to Bacon's art. This must account for at least part of the favourable or even enthusiastic reception it is accorded. However, I am not invoking the masochism that Freud theorized since I find his discussion of this subject rather lacking. Bacon himself would otherwise be a classic Freudian case considering his conflicted attraction to, and fear of his father. But as for the viewer of his images, there seems to be something else at work, a pleasure in the vision of other bodies suffering dissolution, a pleasure that is experienced now, back in the 50's, and even in other periods significantly more conservative than that of post-war Britain."

Andrés Mario Zervigón, The Pleasure of Francis Bacon: Viewing Bodies in Pain in Post-War Britain, University of La Verne.

 

 

 

 "I like reading Freud very much because I like his way of explaining things but, at the same time, never having undergone therapy myself,  I'm not sure what to think of psychoanalysis.  Perhaps it could have helped me? I don't know...It seems to me that  in painting, and perhaps also in the other arts, there's always an element of control and an element of surprise, and that distinction perhaps comes back to what psychoanalysis has defined as the conscious and unconscious...In the end, painting is the result of the interaction of those accidents and the will of the artist or, if you prefer, the interaction of the unconscious and conscious." 

Francis Bacon,  In Conversation with Michel Archimbaud,  Phaidon Press 1993.

 

 

 

"The greatest weight. - What, if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: 'This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and sigh and everything unutterably small or great in your live will have to return to you, all in the same succession and sequence - even this spider and this moonlight between the trees, and even this moment and I myself. The eternal hourglass of existence is turned upside down again and again, and you with it, speck of dust!' Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus?"

Friedrich Nietzsche, The Doctrine of the Eternal Recurrence, The Gay Science, 1882.  

 

 

 

"Mourning must be impossible. We cannot assume that we can merely resurrect or interiorize 'within us the image, idol, or ideal of the other who is dead'. nor can we assume that 'the other who is dead' is simply outside of us and that we are 'a subjectivity that is closed upon itself or even identical to itself'. Mourning is impossible, and for us most of all. The 'race of the other', the other who has died and that remains other, is at once inside and outside of us, marking a gap that moves in 'us', as 'us' - the living who sign our name. Mourning has always already begun. It begins with the name, with naming and with writing the date, with dating: Jacques Derrida 15 July 1930 - 8-9 October 2004... How does one respond to the death of Jacques Derrida? How does one mourn for Derrida, who warned of the dangers of mourning (as idealization and interiorization), while insisting that mourning is both unavoidable and impossible? The gap that the death of Jacques Derrida has let behind is open, gaping; it cannot be closed. one can perhaps only respond by tracing the gaps (écarts, béances, décalages), the histories of the gap, in Derrida's work."

Sean Gaston, The Impossible Mourning of Jacques Derrida, Continuum, 2006.

 

 

 

"Reality is that which, being an obstacle, both arrests and denies us our pleasure....The ugly object is existence itself, in so far as existence is the obstacle which stands in the way of desire. And so it is, from the point of view of desire, that the ugly object should not be there...The ugly object, as obstacle, is a punitive force which is sweeping towards me.....What sets the work of a genius apart from that of an artist who merely makes a beautiful object? In classical and subsequent hymns to genius something of the following impression may be formed:  genius has a sublime relation to structure. Rather than effortlessly and swiftly creating a totality, the genius may incorporate alien objects into the structure of a work, elements that would defeat a lesser artist, in whose hands the whole would break down  into a ridiculous collection of incompatible fragments.  The genius is able, indeed needs to, pit himself against a seemingly impossible task - to mould  individual, inappropriate elements into a final whole.   The greater the difficulty, the greater the final impression that the totality makes. In this sense the ugly is part of the power of genius...There is another story, more obscure and obscene, about the relation between the unconscious and ugliness.  It is an account of the ecstasy which the unconscious enjoys in all that is dirty, horrifying and disgusting - that is, of ugliness as an unbearable pleasure."   

Mark Cousins, The Ugly, AA Files,  Number 28, Autumn 1994.

 

 

 

"This good little boy, however, had an occasional disturbing habit of taking any small objects he could get hold of and throwing them away from him into a corner, under the bed, and so on, so that hunting for his toys and picking them up was often quite a business. As he did this he gave vent to a loud, long-drawn-out 'o-o-o-o,' accompanied by an expression of interest and satisfaction. His mother and the writer of the present account were agreed in thinking that this was not a mere interjection but represented the German word 'fort' [gone]. I eventually realized that it was a game and that the only use he made of any of his toys was to play 'gone' with them. One day I made an observation which confirmed my view. The child had a wooden reel with a piece of string tied around it. It never occurred to him to pull it along the floor behind him, for instance, and play at its being a carriage. What he did was to hold the reel by the string and very skillfully throw it over the edge of his curtained cot, so that it disappeared into it, at the same time uttering his expressive 'o-o-o-o.'  He then pulled the reel again by the string and hailed its reappearance with a joyful 'da' [there]. This, then, was the complete game–disappearance and return. As a rule one only witnessed its first act, which was repeated untiringly as a game in itself, though there is no doubt that the greater pleasure was attached to the second act. The interpretation of the game then became obvious. It was related to the child's great cultural achievement–the instinctual renunciation (that is, the renunciation of instinctual satisfaction) which he had made in allowing his mother to go away without protesting."    

 Sigmund Freud,  Beyond the Pleasure Principle, Standard Edition, Vol. 18, pp. 14-15.

 

 

 

"Was Francis Bacon's relationship with his father so traumatic that the artist sought expression for it through the Crucifixion? Was being surprised by his, to whom Francis felt an erotic attraction, while he was putting on his mother's underwear the real humiliation? Or was it his father's disgust and the subsequent banishment from the house? Or were these simply details of a tortured childhood (which included being regularly horse whipped by the grooms at his father's behest)...Did the tyranny of the father excite the son? Did the beatings - if they took place - arouse Francis sexually? Did he imagine himself his father's wife as he put on his mother's underwear? And, if so, to what extent were the Crucifixions - and indeed the whole flayed population of Bacon's pictures - the voluptuous production of a strong sado-masochistic fantasy?"

Michael Peppiatt,  Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma,  Westview Press, 1996.      

 

 

 

 "What was called the individual - or what was called individuality - is in fact nothing more or less than this interior - this existence of the object - which begins to leak - begins to leak out - of its representation.  You can begin to see that in fact that if, if the reason why you do not use an individual in a work of art that's supposed to be beautiful  -  it's precisely because they do not  conform with the representation or the image of a human being. At this point nothing could be further apart the ideal figuration of the human form; nothing could be further apart than that actual individual because an individual will be nothing more or less than the set of differences from that ideal form. The set of differences will actually always be experienced in some sense as disgusting because there are those parts of an individual which are as it were leaking out and exceeding the individual as a representation of him or herself. I mean, quite often, -  at the level of experience, this is related to kind of things like hair coming out of people's ears, -  it's often combined with bits and the places from which things could be leaking: stuff that's coming out of your eyes, or your nose, or your ears, or your mouth. I mean this is another reason why it - like the Alien - always drools - the kind of stuff which is drooled - which may come from your mouth, your eyes, your ears, your anus - all that in a sense has the mark of radical individuality - radical individuality because it is precisely there - the stuff - which is getting out."

Mark Cousins, Ugliness, 27.1.1995, Architectural Association.

              

            

                                         

          In the Beginning was the Sea and in the Sea was the Seamen coming to a Shore as a Sein slime - as a sein semen sensation of our foamy fresh froth fort da-ing dasein - as a trace of time to come - as a trace of come to time - as the time of the trace of the throw of dasein diceing difference - delivering an awesome alien ather - as a thoth thing thrown - to Thoth to throw Thoth. Thoth was the Time of the Trace of Difference as the Eternal Return of the différance of Dasein as a Semen Sensation Shining - beaming bare before Being began being. For Derrida and Bacon différance and chance as trace are the absence of presence as the absence as presence pushed through thrown down disappearing dice: for  Derrida and Bacon difference and chance cannot be nameable or knowable only thrownable and traceable through thrown chance as a Subconscious Beingsensation. Subconscious Sensation - as always already thrown out-of-itself is the coming-to-presence as Becoming towards absence as sensations are always already leaking away towards absences Becoming traces as all Sensations are traumatic traces trawled from the Unconscious Sewer inside us. Subconscious Sensation and dice différance are thrown out-of-being and thus have no corresponding concepts pulverising presence mauling meaning as Sensation as différance as Trace enacts erasure at entry thrown out of thought. By being Unnameable Being is Sensationable - as the Trace of our dice différance throwness - since Sensation and différance are not Names nailing the Origin since Sensation and différance have no Time to Begin with by being Beingtime as a Beingsensation.

        Beingsensation bubbles forth from the Subconscious Sea brewing Being not Known from our Unconscious Subterranean Sewer that Knows nothing of Death for our Unconscious is always already alien as autonomous and not attached to the Body for the Unconscious does not Die and Exits the Body when all is done with dasein departing ahead of being-there to being out-there as for the time-being as being the time of subconscious sein.

         Through throwing the Derridean dice Bacon forges the forgetting of Being by betting on Being being bled bare through throwness an ancient arbitrary alien ather reappears revealingly as Being as Alien. So for Bacon thrown sensation as difference as arbitrary as chance is also constituted and collected through thrown remembering-recovering of oozed traces of sensations of difference as différance of sensation for difference is not a structure of Being but a sensation of Being as Beingsensation for sensation as différance as deferral delaying dissolving delivering drowning. Bacon's penetraiting poignant paints pertains to Derridean undecidability where the psyche of the paint plays wet with multiple meanings with no meaning at all yet triggering the nervous system in remembering something unsettling and uncanny in the angoisse arbitrariness of the marks slashes oozes that suture the subject severed and soaked. Bacon's paint as undecidability - is pure sensation: being pure psysensation is living without a language: to be pure pysensation is being thrown towards being as a score of the psyche mooding the music of the mother that Freud fails to here and fears to be near.

         What does the psyche look-like? What does the psyche leak-like? What does the psyche smell-like? The psyche smells like fresh semen - the psyche looks-leaks like fresh-froth - the semen of the subconscious for Bacon becomes: "the foam of the unconscious locked around it - which is its freshness."  - and thrown forth as a fort-da-froth.  What does the psyche taste like? The strong smelling psyche as all expected tastes slightly sweet and salty coming forth from the sea of the seaman.

         For Bacon the Derridean Dice becomes the Eternal Return Fort-Da Throwness of Dasein where Dasein shows itself as a Dice delivered thrown down roulette table revealing the register of Being through the speed of throwness as in the throwness of paint on to the canvas where the time to throw throws up the time of Being where gorunded landed dice or paint reveals or conceals the being there of being of time as betting on time. For Bacon it is a question of timing and throwing as being in-time out-time when knowing when to and when not to throw the dice of time as a Fort Da Thrusting where betting on being becomes betting on Being on the recover and revealing of Being. Bacon as being-time-in and out-itself knowingly knew instinctively how to throw in time on time out time all the time being time throwing being paint. Being is not a question of language but leakage: Being is not a question of Thinking but Being is a sensation of Throwing and Being is a sensation of Painting as well as the sensation music.  Being cannot be spoken, written, intellectualised, conceptualised or Known  - only Thrown as an Eternal Return of différance.  Freud's Fort-Da-Dasein becomes the Lost and Found Object of Metaphysical Mooding as a Musing Mourning and Memorial for-of the severed Sensation of the Psyche for the Ego is exiled as Anxiety. Anxiety is the brute register the brute realisation that the Ego does not exist: Anxiety is - pure and simple - the Sensation of the Subconscious as an oozing offal Overspil exiling our Nothingness out-of-itself as a draining drooling dripping  Dasein.  Nietzsche knew that the Ego did not exist and Freud knew Nietzsche knew that the Ego did not exist and Freud knew that the Ego did not exist but forgot it.  There is no Ego because the Body inhabits multiple Eggos of alien athers breeding and bleeding out-within which will 'speak their mind' which will 'leak their behind' for the Unconscious is pure Beingsensation for-itself as being-itself free far from thought and time.

        As a composer of multiple sensations Nietzsche composed with multiple sounds multiple voices multiple instruments hence his writings are not contradictory but musical. Contrary to current claims Nietzsche never contradicted himself or made contradictory statements.  Nietzsche's writings wanderings wonderings walings weepings  as duelling dancing doctrines are not contradictory because they are always already a pushing pulling perpetual Becoming as the Eternal Return of différance.  Freud saw a one and a half year old boy throwing a paper-back copy of Nietzsche's The Gay Science which fell open on the Doctrine of the Eternal Return: Freud retrieved the Fort-Da Game from the Doctrine of the Eternal Return of the Throw.  Nietzsche's wriggling writhing writings  - as a Fort-Da-Forgetting  - have no consciousness of contradiction have no concept of contradiction: contradiction does not exist in the Nietzschean canon. Nietzsche forgets contradiction. Nietzsche is beyond contradiction. Since Nietzsche's sensations are structured as a musical score so have no linguistic equivalent only a musical-image equivalent.  Remember also dreams have no linguistic equivalent only a musical-image equivalent as the subconscious is structured like a score as a series of sensations. The being-time of the score is equivalent to the being-time of the psyche: that is - it-is -  out-of-sync  -  out-of-time -  with well worn commonsense clock-time all the time not-in-time. The scape subconscious initiated is structured scent as as a sent series of oozed out serene semenised sensations always already activated and articulated as a moist music mostly mothered mourning metaphysical mesmerising metre milking making man: - philosophise - phantasise - paintisise - poeticise. The Unconscious has no-time for time-to-tell.

          Fort-da is the Eternal Return of Play as to Throw Thoth forth is to Return froth sent Sensations of Difference.  Bacon Thoth throws forth pain paint to bring back the Bacon - bring back the Father - bring back the Pope.  Fort-da is the Essential metaphysical music mooding movement bringing back being as being blown away again. Nietzsche Freud Bacon and Derrida do fort-da ad-infinitum in never nailing the name never nailing the image slipping severing signatures.

          Fort-da is the Eternal Return of the Frame which frees form from frameness deframing Derrida's deconstruction of the frame as framing form frozen. For Derrida forgets why the Frame is There as Dasein deframed. The radical alteric economy of the frame is that it deframes the image out-of-itself and at the same-different no-time holds the image within outside itself at the same-different no-time all the time not in time as the image out-of-place out-of-space. Precisely be removing the frame difference is reduced to samenes of the space surrounding the image: deframing the image is pure pre-tentious politically correct affectation and alien to the thrown framing of arts alienation and artificiality: the frame - as Bacon rightly wrote - is there precisely to activate the artificiality of the image: by removing the frame the art image becomes banalised normalised democratised - 'dumbed down' and 'put-in-place'. The Frame foregrounds the no ground of the image and de-elevates it up and out of-it-self towards you: the frame throws the image out towards you: without the frame the image falls flat into the space of sameness. The Frame forms the abspace of radical difference by splitting up spaces as dualisms of inside-outside for the frame is in-between being out-between or operating interstitial interactions: the frame gives radical freedom to radical différance deframing Dasein.

 

                                                                                                                              

                                                                                                                          

                                                                                                                                                     Franci Bacon by Konstantinos Ignatiadis

 

        The thrown frame flame does fort-da forever as Derrida did as Derrida died as Derrida still does do fort-da daringly. The essence of the economy of the pull and push of play is patently played out played in-on-out-off the fort-da-frame. The freeze frame sets the sensation of melting metaphysical mooding activating alienationing. For the frame forges a zone of tension as a spice of distance and a dice of difference decapitating spatial scapeing. To remove the frame is to remove the play of difference and distance. The frame as fort-da fort throws the image away keeping it at bay as it comes thrown back towards you coming to get you. As Bacon said: only by going further can one get nearer: to throw is to retrieve as a dice Dasein.  Far from being a form of conserving concealing containment the frame frees the form from the frame out-in itself: the supplement surplus stuff fuses with the frame throwing the frame on fort-da free play. The frame becomes the crypt which takes in and incorporates the ghost of the image: the crypt caresses the carcase of the image keeping it cosy and coy. (Conversely: the decorations of Pollock and Rothko would look absolutely absurd framed: one does not normally frame wall paper).  The Frame does not Mark a Limit but Ignites a Lightening lighting up Alien Being as the free Frame articulates and activates the Artingness of art as artificially real as the rolling reel removal from the real.  The Frame makes a difference marks a difference makes a différance marks a  différance in setting and severing the sensation the metaphysical mooding of the abjected abimage: the frame is not a frame that frames but a flame that inflames inflaming the image igniting the image initiating the image letting the image be in-it-self out-it-self as an interstice inheritance. The Frame deconstructs the Enframing of the sutured space of the Art Gallery which is a Frame of Containment: the Frame decapitates deranged Political Correctness. The Frame severs the Face from the Space of the Subject: the Frame radically removes the Face from the Head. The Frame fuels The Face - the frame frees the face from the space of the subject - frame decapitates dasein by beheading the head of the severed subject from being there to being thrown over there as an absent abjected alienality. The Frame for Bacon is Blanchot's entretien: that which severs sutures: separating by joining the out-of-joint alternating altarity between being attained and abjected: here the frame holds the head together apart decapitating dasein severing the subject form the abject. The Frame is the between [entre-deux] delivering distance joining jouissance abjected apart: For the Frame is derridian différance disseminating dasein - framing the presence of an Infinite immediate - as an absence of a nearness of a farness as a closeness of a distance: as far off the the frame is the Interval in between Being and being - becoming the Unifying union - the Original origin Delivering différance. Really in reality the removing of the frame is the forgetting and negation of différance of différanceof of différance. Thus the Frame literally makes a difference as a radical différance severing the spectator from the space of the abimage: the frame throws the spectator out-of-joint-with-being-there: by removeing the frame one unifies the spectator with space of sameness that surrounds the spectator so then there is no difference between the abimage and the spectator thus the removing of the frame is a conservative act reducing art to decoration and democracy - the evil enemies of art alien. The Frame also activates and attunes the metre and the moment and the mood of the thing thrown there: the thrown frame flames enflames engulfs as it ignites images ahead a head alive: the frame brings presence to the absence there: the frame is the dasein of the painting that cannot be there.

        Chora  - as pure Sensation of chance-throwness - receives sends sensations everything or gives sensation to everything eggos in a Platonic pure place totally alien totally exterior to anything that it receives through sensationing fo sensation is not subject centred self centred but filtered through externally leaking back in only to exit again via forta-da fluidity Since sensation begins as  is absolutely blank black back everything that is sensationed on it is automatically effaced eggoed emptied. Chora - pure sensation rawly remains foreign to the initiated imprint it receives throwing it off over all again so sown in a sensation it does not receive anything but gives pure sensation - as sensation as Chora does not receive what it receives nor does it give what it gives because sensation is the auratic aura awe around Choratic sensation: a hallow hollowing out being to throw Being. Everything inscribed in Choratic sensation eggo erases empties itself immediately since sensation is essentially evaporated on sending sensations while remaining in it.  Choratic sensation is thus an inspiringly impossible shimmering shining shuddering somnambulist surface - it is not even a slippery surface but a surplus suspended angoisse aura awe.

        Since there is Being and Time only in the Choratic Event of Thrown Chance then this driving dazzling Dasein Ereignis ejaculation hijacks human beings as well as alien beings - as those who perceive and penetrate Being and Alien - by standing and shining well within true time - into their own - oot of time -  at all time.  Thus owned, alien beings and human beings belong in the Event of Chance Throwness as collected Chora. This Belonging lies in the assimilation that distinguishes the Event as pure Sensation. Through this, human beings and alien beings are admitted into the Ereignis Event as pure pulling Shining Sensation. This is why we can never place or pace or perceive the Choratic Event of Thrown Chance in front of us, behind us, beneath us, neither as over against us, nor as the all-encompassing but only out of reach through Throwness as pure shining Sensation of Being Alien. Alien is Being.  Bacon became Doomed to Throw the Dice of Eternal Return Becoming Being Alien again and again and again ad infinitum. To Throw Is To Be. To Throw Is To Be Out Of It.  To Be Thrown forth Out of It and ahead of It Out into the Open Region of Being Alien of Being Dead.

Dice Dasein.
Derrida Dies.

 

                                                                                                                               

                                                                                                                                   Jacques Derrida  July 15, 1930 - October 8, 2004 (?)

 

Did Derrida does die?

      "Since Plato, it is the old philosophical injunction: to learn to live is to learn to die. Less and less, I have not learned to accept death. I remain uneducable about the wisdom of learning to die."    (Jacques Derrida, Le Monde interview, August, 2004).

       In Le Monde did Derrida deliver death before Derrida died - or after Derrida dies - after Derrida forgot to die whilst writing and dying and lying about learning how to die and how to do a death - did Derrida die before Derrida does death of after? How did Derrida do 'Death'?  Or did Derrida undo 'Death' deffering Death in dicing différance? Did Derrida deconstruct 'Death'? Did Derrida die? Did Derrida disappear? Slip away - slip out the back door  - at the last second - before death came to the door? Or an alien abduction? Did they come to take him away? Or is Derrida still around? Still away? As if on a holiday? Abroad? Bored? Somewhere boring?

      How do we know Derrida 'Died'? We were 'informed' - we were 'told' - some were even 'shown' - and also because others 'Die' before us and after us and with us.  Only others assume and suppose we 'Die' because we go all stiff and smelly and are stripped of the Psyche and the Sensations of our Being – the Psyche and Sensation of our Being alive. But where do our Psyche and Sensation of Being drift? Where does Dasein drift? What oozes out of the 'Dead'? Sensation itself as out itself! We do not 'Die' but become Other (Sensations) as otherwise to Being, otherwise to Dasein. In 'Life' we are always already 'Dying' all the Time so 'Death' does not exist in-itself only out-itself - as out of oneself: from 'Borning' we are always already 'Dying': we 'Die' many more times psychically and physically in the sense that we are always already shape-shifting and meandering-mutating: we are never the same subject for a split second so hence we 'Die' and are 'Born' every single second as an attuned afresh sensation. Doing 'Death' as a disappearing act is the expelling eggsiting out of sensationing from the Body. Physical 'Death' is thus the oozing out of the Psyche the Sensations-Emanations of our Unconscious from the Body of dying dasein where 'Death' sets free our Unconscious Sensations-Emanations beaming being forth free.

       Physical 'Death' is the oozing out of the Psyche and the Sensations from the Body (Corpse). We do not (usually) experience 'Death' – others experience the moment, movement, music of our 'Death' - in our place - on our behalf. Yet we all introject and incorporate - the 'Dead': we wear the 'Dead'- that is - we all become Crypts of the 'Dead' (keeping them alive and wearing their Psyche and Sensation) - but most of us do not know this and carry the dead like one carries a coal sack or as Jacques Derrida deals the: "dead object remains like a living dead abscessed in a specific spot in the ego" (Derrida, The Ear of The Other). We wear the Dead as we were the Dead.

       "Death" is the dematerialisation and desemenisation of the leaked-Body and the dissemination of the Psyche and Sensation: the deaded-body disperses, jettisons, our psyche – thinking – sensationing to outer regions sensation-scapes: therefore 'Absolute Death' is always already an 'Absolute Impossibility' – just as 'Absolute Life' is also an 'Absolute Impossibility'. The 'Living' incorporate The 'Deading'. The Living are never alive enough whereas the Deading are never adead enough.

        Some of us here have actually always already experienced being-dead as a Being-Death (by being beheaded and decapitated from the mind-body dualism) and floating free –  from the heaviness of being (embodied emheaded): as an out of body experience and near death experience. 'I' experience being dead: 'Death' is not a possibility. 'Death' is not a question or an issue for Being: 'Dying' as Living is. Dasein is for 'Dying' as Being is for Deathing as a Life Sentence is for Doing Time. One could argue that what is important is not 'Death' itself - but Dying (Living), the manner, music, metre and the style in which the being Lives and 'Dies' as it aims toward 'Death' ('Life'). For Heidegger 'Death' is our metre, movement, music of our being toward 'Death' – the way we walk the way we wonder the way we wander towards 'it': in 'Death' we become 'Death' in-itself as 'being-dead' is an essential state of 'being- alive' on different levels of our musical psychic sensation: our measure and measuredness: our 'Death' or 'Deathness' could be said to be the metre of our Music and Time: our being is constituted and incorporated by our Time of 'Death' as the 'Death' of our Time: the metre of our Music of Being (psychic-sensation).

        Our oozed out Ontological relationship with Being and Time is the Time of our 'Life' as the Time of our 'Death': that is: the way we all do Time is the way we all do 'Death' and we all do 'Life': everyone in a sense in a sensation - is 'doing time' (not just those in prison): the Style - the way we do Time is the sign and sensation of the way we do 'Death' – both in sickness and in health. We all daily do 'Death' (like 'Life') differently - because we all do 'Death' ('Life') differently because we all do Time differently but not all beings do the time of death at the time for being to become being-time which is the right time to die as to time-death is to die in time for time.

         A Good Death is not 'Dying' on Time but 'Dying' in Time with Style. A Good Birth can set the moment, movement, music for 'A Good Death': some beings are never (truly) born so some beings never (truly) 'Die' – they are disembodied and beheaded from the Psyche and Sensation scapes so sloth and drift derailed from frozen Dasein as the living-dead: they do not have The Shine. 'Doing Life' is an orchestral overture for 'Doing Death' via the Way we all Do Time and it is the Style in which we do 'Death' as Dasein. 'Death' is the only Uncertainty in Life. As an Absolute Impossibility 'Death' is all the time not in Time. Being and Time negate the Possibility of 'Death' and the Impossibility of 'Life'. That is: a 'Full Death' or a 'Full Life' as 'Life' and 'Death' are always already left leaking leftovers oozing out of our Othernesses as an angoisse attuned Atherness. 

         Hear Heidegger on dreary Dasein and 'Death': "...Dasein constantly is its not-yet as long as it is, it also already is its end. The ending we have in view when we speak of death does not signify a being-at-an-end of Dasein, but rather a being toward the end of this being. Death is a way to be that Dasein takes over as soon as it is."  (Being & Time). "...death is the inmost, not-relational, certain, and as such, indefinite possibility not to be bypassed of Dasein. ...As the end of Dasein death is in the being of this being toward its end." (Being & Time). Derrida on the (im)possibility of 'Death': "Is the most distressing, or even the most deadly infidelity, that of a possible mourning which would interiorise within us the image, idol, or ideal of the other who is dead and lives only in us? Or is it that of impossible mourning which…refuses to take the other within oneself, as in the tomb of some narcissism?" (Jacques Derrida, Memories of Paul de Man; The Work of Mourning).  The Living Dead are always already attainted and a attuned to the Dead Living.

Or "Ours To Derrida Or Die"

         Bacon's chaotic Choratic Event of a 'game of chance'  - a dice Daseining as a  Fort-Da Froth Throwness - Falling-Forgetting  Projecting-Retrieving - is a revealing of The Real through The Reel and The Roulette Wheel of the to Fort Da froth found in foam Freud.  Bacon never reels in his lost object of desire but Throws it in Order to Retrieve it: to Throw is to Retrieve for Freud and Bacon. For Bacon the sewer Psyche is structured like Sperm which cannot be Known only Thrown thrusting and spurting.  Bacon Orders the Psyche to put in an Appearance through Thrown Chance spurting the sensation of the Psyche on to the cunt canvas and  on to the nailed nervous system.  The Psyche is structured like a leakage and not structured like a language. As our leaked swamp Psyche is oozed outside concepts it cannot be known yet the Psyche can be Imaged  but only through thrusting flooding  frothy fruity Throwness.  For Bacon the Psyche is structured and sutured like Sperm: a strange sludge slurp swamp surplus spillage spilling thing that cannot be contained controlled conceptualised or cleared up but ceaselessly eternally drips and stains and smells and spills lovely leaking lamella ink its slimy stuff well wet wound whipped spunked all over you both and all over the place all over time all the time.  Titian Velázquez Rembrandt Picasso Jawlensky Bacon Auerbach and Alien all trapped threw nailed leaked pinned projected the thrown Psyche out of time all the time out of 'our' time which never came all the time as a primordial time for the Psyche knows of no time all the time being beingtime 'it(no)self' out of time in time all the time not in time at any time all the time not in time or on time.

        How is the Sensation of Psychic Semen smelt seen heard hijacked caught trapped imaged?  Thrown Through the Reel of Freud and the Hand  of Bacon.  The Reel, as the thrown aim of The Real, for Bacon, is the paint-in-hand thrown out off now never reeled-back-in for he leaves the fort forever traced on the canvas of spattered, splattered spunked spent pearl paint.  Bacon's Trauma is Trapped in his body and it is through his chance-game of Throwness Falling and Fort Da he hopes to reveal The Real via The Reel or Roulette Wheel which spins the sensation of thrown time after time.  The Baconian Real is linked with the Freudian Uncanny; that arbitrary alien mark made by Bacon's Reel oozing outside inane illustration. The  Alien Real is 'something' which is by definition 'impossible' to 'pin down' where the 'brute fact' is 'radial exteriority' and an atta  'alien alterity', a shining shimmering subconscious serene soft sea sensationism salt spume stripped (of) 'subjectivity' (and) 'sexuality'.  An authentic Aletheia alien art is stripped of a 'sexuality' and a 'subjectivity' and a 'gender' arriving at an atta abject 'alienality'.  You both  can only 'identify' with an alien art once you have forgotten to be 'human' (what ever that was) and arrived at the thrown shining site and the sight of alien being shot outside 'human' conception.  Through Throwness the Psychic Semen of Alien Being reveals and rereels back towards all over the place out of place spilling beyond behind it-out-self spilling over sides.  The thrown out lost Logic of the loin Leakage is that Alien Being as an alien-ated semen Stain eggsistence exceeds the alien Area it Covers with out egging over the Edge but dripping Dasein through it initiating Incorporation. 

        The thrown Lost Object as absolute Alien always already as absolute Ather leaves leaked back broken out-in Incorporation: the Sensation of the Object Leaks over the Eggo. The not so quite dead Alien Mother Ship refuses to 'let-go' refuses to 'un-hinge' anchoring to the attic of the Son's Psyche port of call.  The not-so-quite dead mooring Mother Becomes the Eternal Return of the Alien lodged-leaking installed-inside the not-so-quite-dead Living Son.  So it is not that the sunk sullen Son refuses -  consciously or subconsciously  - the same-difference  - to undo to unhinge to un-touch to un-tie to un-stitch the Identification with the Lost Mother for the Mother is always already alien to Identification: with the Lost Mother - as 'pure alienality' - there is only ever a radical 'alien-other-nothing' Object which is never ever actually available to the split sutured spaces of Identification and Difference  - severing sexuality  - severing psyche.  One cannot remember the Name of the Mother, the Name of the Other, and therefore One cannot make-the-move from Mourning to Memorial from Dawn to Dusk.  As an Alien alterity the Murmuring Mother moves-in installed as an un-invited Incorporation in-to the thrown Mourning Son  - since the Son has no choice in the matter in the invasion in the Incorporation.  In Incorporation it is not that the Son Incorporates the Lost Mother but that the Leaked Mother  - even if allegedly dead - Incorporates the Living Son: The Son wears the Mother - the Mother wears the Son.  The Mother can never Die: has no Time to. The Father can die. He has the Time. 

          For Freud 'woman' is always already essentially Egyptian - that is - ego-free - being-animal - being-alien - as being ather - to being human - to being man - to being man-made.  For Freud  - as an ego-free Egyptian - and a curator and collector of Egyptian Memorabilia - masturbated molested memorabilia - as an answering angoisse antiquity - answering an alien ather: 'woman'. For Freud there is no 'woman' - no 'sexual-difference' - only an 'alien difference' - no 'human condition' - only an 'alien condition' - an Egyptian Ereignis.  As aliens the Egyptians had no ego - no psyche - no drives - no desires - no needs.

          For Freud 'woman' was always already 'alien'  - alien to Freud  - for Freud was alien to Music of the Mother's Murmur (Chora) as the Sensation of the Psyche: for Freud lacked a musical mouth: castrated from consciousness he could not hear the sensation of the psyche played by the 'womb of the woman' for has not all psychoanalysis been a misunderstanding of music as played by the body of the psyche?  Freud's ear was alien to the alien in woman for Freud found 'woman' subconsciously 'alien' and this was his 'conscious' discovery his blind-spot becoming his ear-spot his 'inisight' blocked by his earless 'outsight' for Freud's ear failed to see into his 'insight' that 'woman' is 'alien' as Freud failed foresight-earsight: that the swap sewer subconscious is structured like a music -  not leaked like a language. Nietzsche was a greater Freud a greater Freudian than Freud for Nietzsche had a musical-ear a musical-mind a musical-memory a musical-metaphysics a musical-psyche a musical sensation which was Nietzsche's Philosophy of the Sensation of the Psyche as the Condition of Music.  For Freud - not being a musical man - failed to tune to attune to the music of the psyche as a sensation of the body as a corpus composition a skin score of the sensation of sexuality as the timpani body being attuned as a metaphysical musical instrument inducing psychic sexual sound sensations in the orchestra of other beings: the 'sensationing cure' not the 'talking cure' for the psyche cannot be spoken only woken as a musical memory of the sounds of the psyche as the score of the body's Being being as a musical manuscript. For Freud lacked a musical ear - a mothering ear - to sensations of the psyche's musical body and its dissonances: music is not merely a metaphor for the body: music is the body of the psyche is structured as a score: the subconscious is the score of the music of being sounding out of the womb of the world.  Psychoanalysis (like Logic) know nothing of The Nothing.  Music is the materialised maternal metre of the sound sensation of the Psyche.  Music is not only 'about nothing' Music is also about The Nothing: the Sensation of the Subconscious the Sensation of the Psyche as the silent Score of The Nothing. 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                              

                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Francis Bacon by Arnold Newman

 

        Freud's ears were all welded up with words so Freud failed to hear the score of the subconscious that Nietzsche sung so well. For Freud knew nothing of The Nothing for Freud feared the Score of the Subconscious of Maternal Music Making: The Timpani of the Womb.  Eggsistence comes into being through the sensation of the skin wounding wondering the wall of the womb: the thing is the timpanist the womb is the timpani: the thing plays the womb wears the womb wounds the womb wonders the womb: the thing makes music from the mother: for Freud never heard the Music of the Mother for the Father of Psychoanalysis never heard the Mother of Music as the Music of the Mother as the Sensation of Being played out-the-womb out-of-the-world where score Sensation is a Form of Language where Sensation is a Froth of Language where Sensation is a Filter of Language where Language leaks Sensation where Sensation leaks Language outside Intelligence where Sensation leaks Language outside Analysis  - psycho or otherwise - out. WARNING: be very warey and suspicious of pyschologists, psychoanalysists and personas who are alien to music! If they are cut off from the sounds from without then they are castrated from the sounds from within: listening to music is listening to the life of the mind as the life of the mother as the life of the body and being itself initiated oozed out itself leaked as the life of music.

        At what age is an alien artist itself? At what point does one become an alien artist - as an abjected body being there thrown? At what age does an alien artist become an authentic being alien again? An age arrested as an alien ather around four-five to six-seven: the thrown alien artist is initiated and always already attending and attuning an ather time torn away from the inane ideology of time: being in time and a daily doing time: thus the thrusted alien artist annihilates aging as an alien artist abjects aging and timing: only our the they - moronic man - are mortified and managed and maimed by being in-time on-time because they are always already enslaved and engulfed and interpellated by the insipid and inane ideology of 'the time': the alien artist as against aging just like the philosopher - just like the poet - gets younger and younger and younger with age.  As Heraclitus and Heidegger had it: alien-time - it is a child - playing as pastime - moving the memories - to and fro  - on a body of sensation - such a child is the mastery and mover over being an adult. The alien artist is never an adult for the adult is alien to art because the adult is alien to the child of being which is being the unconscious: Bacon - as an art alien child of the unconscious - never needed to sleep never needed to dream because Bacon was a day dreamer by night and a night walker by day by being consciously unconscious: the alien artist works unconsciously without even being conscious of being unconscious of being the unconscious in itself out itself for itself. For the alien art child there is no consciousness just as there is no lost-object and there is no death-drive for the unconscious knows nothing of conscious life or loss or death. There is no such thing as the lost-object or the pleasure-principle or death-drive for the unconscious art alien child - for those things are for adults only.

        What is the time-psychic space of the altaric alien artist? All the time Childtime arrested around psychic sensations up to seven: Leonardo, Mozart, Bruckner, Cézanne, Proust, Schiele, Soutine, Picasso, Fellini, Bacon were all arrested around seven all the time back-in-time out of time not-in-time with the present preferring sensationing of scents smelt long past and plastered over: scented semen Sensation semblance survives supercedes severes inane intellectualised ideas instead initiating images as an autistic artistic scene serial sensationing. Sensationing straight from the Subconscious thus throwing Thinking thwarted.  The tiny tot time of the altaric alien artist is in that they always already grow younger and younger as they grow older and older arrested around seven  - severing time at seven - serving time at seven - sensationing at seven as the sensation of a life time - the sensation of being seven  - like Proust and Picasso - the smelt and the sight sensations of being about seven: the moment and mood of being moved and mesmerised by sensations at seven: the thrown frisson and fascination of jettisoned jousissances.  Blanchot bleeds: "If our childhood fascinates us, this happens because childhood is a moment of fascination, is itself fascinated. And this golden age seems bathed in a light is splendid because unrevealed. But it is only that this light is foreign to revelation, has northing to reveal, is pure reflection, a ray which is still only the gleam of an image...This milieu of fascination, where what one sees seizes sight and renders it interminable, where the gaze coagulates into light, where light is the absolute gleam of an eye one doesn't see but which one doesn't cease to see since it is the mirror image of one's own look - this milieu is utterly attractive. Fascinating. It is light which is also the abyss, a light one sinks into, both terrifying and tantalizing." (Maurice Blanchot, The Image; The Space of Literature, University of Nebraska Press, 1982).

        Bacon blew to thou peppered Peppiatt pertaining to the Eternal Return of the Childhood Sensationing: "I think artists stay much closer to their childhood than other people. They remain far more constant to those early sensations. Other people change completely, but artists tend to stay the way they have been from the beginning."  (Francis Bacon, Francis Bacon, Anatomy of an Enigma, Michael Peppiatt, Westview Press, 1996).                                                                     

       Absolute authentic Alien Art as an abject autistic artistic altarity arrives as an accident as da Derrida dices "an altarity that cannot be anticipated." 

       We wait fort-da Derrida's dice:

"Awaiting without horizon of the wait, awaiting what one does not expect yet or any longer, hospitality without reserve, welcoming salutation accorded in advance to the absolute surprise of the arrivant from whom or from which one will not ask anything in return and who or which will not be asked to commit to the domestic contracts of any welcoming power (family, state, nation, territory, native soil or blood, language, culture in general, even humanity), just opening which renounces any right to property, any right in general, messianic opening to what is coming, that is, to the event that cannot be awaited as such, or recognized in advance therefore, to the event as the foreigner itself, to her or to him for whom one must leave an empty place, always, in memory of the hope—and this is the very place of spectrality [i.e., ghosts]."

 (Jacques Derrida. Specters of Marx: The State of the Debt, the Work of Mourning, & the New International.  Trans. Peggy Kamuf. London: Routledge, 1994).

                                                                                                                                   

       Bacon's Derridean Dice,  Lamella Leakage,   -  (Real Thing, as Being Blown, Thrown There),  -  is Found Forth (in the) Flight Froth (of offal)  Thrown Thick White Whiplashes of ore Pushed Paint which while is the thin fossilized foam fuel formed from the subconscious slime sea inside us: Bacon says:  "It seems to come straight out of what we choose to call the unconscious  with the foam of the unconscious locked around it - which is its freshness."   (Francis Bacon,  The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon,  David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson 1987).   Loin leaking  leaves its leftover sperm stuff as a snail leaves its slime; a stain of being left behind bled bare.  For Bacon Being as alien Lamella Leftover initiates in an Appearance through Throwness Leaking through an Absolute Forgetting froth of Form through an anti-intellectual instinct act as action: through thrown chained chance dice Dasein

       The Lamella in Bacon is Eggo Leakage of Being Bled Bare as Non-Illustrational Fluid Form which washes always already works wet upon urgent soil slither Sensation always already ahead crass Consciousness.  Bacon said: "Non-illustrational form works first upon sensation and then slowly leaks back into the fact."   (Francis Bacon,  The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon,  David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 1987).  Only by a radical Absolute Forgetting of 'how to-do-it' (paint an eye, a mouth, a nose, a ear) can it be done (outside illustration) - afresh, anew via vomit violence of throwing, frothing, foam fleeting, falling, leaking, spilling, spunking.   Bacon's  Portrait of George Dyer Talking (1966)  silently serenely spills six sheets blowing before away at towards to you yet. Dyer drips dry shaving shimmering sensation thrown through the loss leaking lather lava loin legs left deriding derriding diarrhea do da flush fort-da da.  Here Honoré Daumier delivers dashing daring darting shooting shining silver sliver slither semen shrapnel shards.

 

 

                                                                                                                                  

                                                                                                                                       Portrait of George Dyer Talking  1966  Francis Bacon    

 

           

                                                                                                                                   

                                                                                                                                           Woman and Child Moving 1873  Honoré Daumier 

                                              

 

                                                                                                                        

                                                                                                                                 Portrait of Henrietta Moraes 1965  Francis Bacon

 

 

 

                                                                                                       

                                                                                                                                                   The Goat Woman  1979-1980  Alex Alien

 

 

       We will never know Bacon's Thrown Traumas (or our own) but we can see sense smell shimmer shudder sensation turd torn traces off of Bacon's thrown trauma in Bacon's Thrown Paint which Becomes nervous-system memory traces of that violent traumatic event that has no name but which is always already buried in the body.  Bacon plays,  via the games of chance and gushing gambling, Heideggerian Freudian Throwness Froth Fort Da  - to materialise the 'brut fact' of his frothy thrown 'traumatic event'  - as well as the thrown traumas lodged in his hideous sitters sqauters  sleepers standers shitters shouters spunkers swallowers.  Bacon knows that his Lost Object of Desire is that very un-retrievable ecstatic eggo ejaculation ooze of off spent sperm that violently spattered and splattered across his fucking face; he throws a handful of white double cream spunk puss paint in the hope of retrieving that pure primordial shape that left its slime- stain on his fucked-face; he also knew that his father's belt was the reel thrown across his backside to reveal those Baconian slashed that he belted his canvases with: Bacon used the thrown paint memory substances and canvas as skins, to trace the drama of trauma but no in an illustrative  literal sense but as actual Lacanian lamella loin leftovers silver snail slime.  Bacon's serial Traumas are the thrown nailed nervous system's spume spilling overload overspill overkill flooding froth foam forth oozed out often overwhelming bored brave Bacon who simply cannot process them - so projects them  - so throws them - via hand and oil paint  - or hand and the dice - hoping to make a killing or trap a living  - and exiled exorcising ecstatic eggsorcising experiencing the Thrown tantrum Traumas imaged in the Triptychs of three thrown traumatic images.  Bacon wants to re-play via the Fort Da of Throwing Paint Trauma to Master it - whether at the Roulette Wheel or at The Canvas.  Bacon  Throws  Freud's Reel to  Retrieve the 'Real Thing' where Throwing is in a Revealing and a Retrieving of Alien Being.  But Bacon can never Retrieve that Lost Object of alien Desire because it never existed in the first place: 'it' was never lost: 'it' was never an object but an alien abject.  But Bacon retrieves raw snail slime soggy sperm stuff substitutes.  Bacon's Froth Fort Da Drool drips down the thrown canvas skin sensation raw running away after towards two of you leaving leaking liquid line:  'like a snail leaving its slime'. Bacon masters the Reel and not the Alien Object but by not mastering it he lets it to be 'more'  Real.  That thrown loitering leaking surplus stuff: the petit object a.  Along with Bacon's 'alien abjects' (or ossified  'offal objects') wet which represent rightly the thrown petit object a-lien  -  Lacan adds his own odd long lost list of oozed alien-object-as:  "the mamilla, faeces, the phallus (imaginary object), the urinary flow. the phoneme, the gaze, the voice - the nothing."  Bacon's Thrown Paint, representing  the petit object a, is his fresh form of re-materialising Being Shit.  But Bacon's Being Spunk is in indeed spurted shot sensation Thrown by Chance - to - Order.  'Great Spunk' like 'Great Art' is spurted out in a Deeply Ordered angoisse arrangement by Thrown Chance oozing out after towards away from you.  Bacon's Primordial Painting as an Ordered Spunking by a Thrown Chance chain transforms 'solids' into 'fluids' leaking lamella as an Alien Externalised Being Thrown Fluid froth from bored best back Bacon's ossified oozing organic orbit orifice often oily or opal or ore. All great thinkers have known the thrown and knew how to throw and retrieved through throwness the truth of being thrown in and out back and forth in of off the world oozing outside orbiting ournesses. The Mother threw the Son into the World wounded as a jettisoning jouissance as a decapitating delivery dicing Dasein. The Mother is not the Other but the Ather - as Alien to thrown Being - being always already alien to being in the World as an Aleatoric Alétheia.

        Marx - Nietzsche - Heiddeger - Freud - Adorno  all  Threw Fort-Da Time: Marx: (Repetition): Nietzsche: (Eternal Return): Heidegger: (Throwness): Freud: (Fort-Da): Adorno: (Force-Field): The Repetition of the Eternal Return of Throwing Fort-Da as a Force-Field. Derrida and Bacon threw in the Play of Chance for to write one must throw for to paint one must throw: to-be-in-the-throw-of-it is to-be-in-the-write-of-it or to be-in-the-paint-of-it.

 

 

                                                                                                                            

                                                                                                                                                         Francis Bacon, Head (Man in Blue), 1961.     

 

       Bacon's bleeding brute burnt boiled soaked soiled stained saturated sutured Subconscious sea slurp sludge of off oozed smelly shot spunk surf slime stuff: that thrown pushed paint initiation -  is: 'structured like a language' which ab-presents the thrown leaking lamella wet which: are irreducible and un-analysable by virtue of violent chaotic chance Throwness which being thrown 'out-it-itself' is the 'stuff' and 'stuffing' out poring of the gutted and filleted 'fucked I': the Eye that sees Nothing of the 'I' of not-being-there to hand as the hand out-it-self throws being-over-there not being-over-here: the Eye that is pulled out of its 'I' socket but still stares and slides left right up down in out: scarred of being struck out of site and sight of having its 'I' ball sucked out sucked off.  The 'I' of the penis and the 'I' of the person ooze oils from their eye balls. Bacon has dug out the 'I' of the Eye and left the Hole to be pumped further full off-of Spume Sperm like a runny under boiled egg; all soggy sweety spunky leaky. The thrown Lamella Leaks from the corner of the Eye or the crack of the Egg. The Eye is the Egg: all runny and watery and glistening like fucking spunk.  The thrown sunk Subconscious ink is 'structured like a leakage': The Lamella is the Leaked Subconscious sea sensation sutured in-side in-bled in-bed Bacon's soiled sheets stuff of oozed primordial paint punctureslraking leftovers melting through the mattress. The Logic of the Leakage in Bacon is that the semen Stain exceeds the area it Covers with out egging over the Edge. Leaking Stain Subconscious Squid Foam Form Froth is Force forced from Bacon's throwing, forgetting, leaking leaving an inventive image and "all the foam of its freshness".  So slime subconscious squid stuff stain can be seen smelt sensationed eggo emerging from the fort-da thrown foam froth form in Bacon's Alien Arising from the Sea 1952 (formerly known as Figure Emerging from the Sea 1952) image inviting  subconscious sea inside-in with:  'all the foam of its freshness' locked leaking around anus oozing oil. The sea becomes the shredded skin from which the thrown creature becomes born alien again.

       Bacon's white whiplashes of opalescent pearl  paint ooze oil often smell, taste, look like the runny soggy juicy texture of an under boiled egg or freshly shot slurp spunk: glittering and glistening smelling slightly salty but sensationally sweet.  John  Edwards  would  join Bacon at Reece Mews for breakfast where Bacon would cook a fry-up.  Bacon, Edwards says, liked only egg white, Edwards only the yolk, "so it was the perfect relationship".   In October 1998, John Edwards said of  Bacon:   "He was a lonely and very disciplined man. No matter how late he'd been out drinking he'd get up at six, make a cup of tea and go straight tot the studio. At nine he'd phone me up and then cook breakfast, which we ate at Reece Mews at ten. Francis cooked a lovely breakfast too: scrambled or fried eggs, bacon and toast. He would only buy his bacon from Marks & Spencers in Kensington and he only liked the white of an egg. I only liked the yolk, so it was a perfect relationship...My personal nickname for Francis was 'Eggs'.  No one else called him that. In the East End of London, where I am from, we call very special people 'diamonds'.  Eggs was a diamond. And a fucking great painter."                                                                     

      Edwards' nickname for Bacon was "Eggs".  Bacon and Eggs:  Bacon would only softly boil his Eggs to allow the White of the Eye to run and cry all over the canvas; Bacon lover his legs, eggs to be runny and gooy like drool Dyer's spunk shot oozed on Bacon's fuck-face was runny and gooy. Bacon always already  gutted, tore out, the Yolk (the Iris) leaving lamella leakage.  Bacon, Eggs, was wet lamella leaked, oozed out, froth foam formed from the thrown leaking loins mutant mother.  Michael Peppiatt on Bacon and Eggs: "Often he would have both lunch and dinner in famous establishments because, he would insist, if you can't go home to a lightly boiled egg and a green salad, it is difficult to follow a supreme meal at Taillevent or Lucas Carton with an insipid stew at a local bistro."   (Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma,  Michael Peppiatt, Westview Press, 1996).  Whenever wesample shot spunk or a slightly salted , slightly boiled egg, we will see smell  slurp straight away how similar they are in taste and texture and also how similar they to the smell and taste and texture of Bacon's white whiplashes of leaking lamella seen in:  Study for Head of Isabel Rawsthorne, 1967;  Oedipus & the Sphinx after Ingres, 1978;  Two figures Lying on a Bed,  1968 ; the central panel from Triptych August 1972; and the right hand panel of Triptych 1973.

       Lacan on Lamella:  "Whenever the membranes of the egg in which the foetus emerges on its way to becoming a new-born are broken, imagine for a moment that something flies off, and that one can do it with an egg as easily with a man, namely the hommelette, or the lamella."  (Lacan, 1977).  Bacon's pushed paint, as leaked lamella, intense instinct, eggo energy, flies-off, cuts-canvas, speeded spat spatter splatter (where) Forgetting, Egging, Throwing, Leaking (open up the valves of) subconscious stuff (as) torn time.  The particular speed of thrown paint - flying lamella -  at a particular part of the canvas becomes being-time-speed: time and being become sensation speed where being time is a matter of speed not speech.  Farson on Bacon & Eggs: "On the day of his flight, James (Birch) had a breakfast of bacon and eggs with Francis and John Edwards at Reece Mews." (The Gilded Gutter of Francis Bacon, Daniel Farson, Century, 1993).  Bacon did not fly-off with Edwards.  Eggo Bacon liked his eggs lightly boiled and slightly salted like hot runny thick wads of fucking spunk streaming down the sides of his fuck face as he sliced off the crown of the egg letting the stuff ooze out over.

         The thrown frying flying egg(o) is an essential initiated ingredient to Bacon's cooking-as-painting; eggs, both black and white, can often be seen leaking or flying from orifices or orbiting: here Bacon is more of a cordon bleu chef than past-master painter: his sauces are subtle. The question of which came first: the chicken or the egg is an absurdity for Bacon.  Lawrence Gowing stated on chicken and Bacon: "With Bacon the play of paint is for real. One imagines his special watchfulness as it throws up unthinkable kinds of resemblance. Time and again he is drawn into a fearful game of chicken - to stay with the paint at the perilous onset of likeness It is played with the only stakes that are big enough to make it exciting, the indisputable equivalence  of paint and flesh...The illusory coherence  must be slit open, so that the real content, the irrefutable bursts out. The body must become actual, with its real orifices and its arching, gaping rapture...When the paint itself breaks loose into a flowing white emanation, streaming away across the canvas, it is the intimation of a direction..."  (Lawrence Gowing, Francis Bacon: The Irrefutable Image, 1968). The white of the egg is the white of the eye of the eggo shooting out oozed spunk.

 

 

                                                                                                                                    

                                                                                                                                         Man getting up from a chair 1968  Francis Bacon

 

           Bacon's Man getting up from a chair (1968) is an example, eggsample, of eggoessentialism of eggosensationism of our ectoplasma leaking leftovers of oil orifices: spermatic slime eggos flow fluid flanked by  black shell shadows shattered broken being: the white of the eye of the egg off of the eggo remain remaindered on a floating, falling cane chair with white whiplash while a bland blue lamella leaks ahead and covers the crimson carpet with its invisible bluey blowey gooey ghost geist gust. 

           Bacon always already remained an ancient abject angoisse alien exiting eggoing existence  immediate instinctive leaking laughter and acting appearance oil of The Homunculous and L'Hommelette.  Freud's inky-image of The Homunculous is the internalized alien ab-image ooze of the bled bare body oils onto which the thrown alien throws sensation onto Lacan's ointment of pure pre-Oedipal Alien Being  L'Hommelette (Lacan 1978: 197) initiate the image of  'beaten bacon' and 'beaten eggs'.  Bacon was often beaten beyond recognition where his fuck face was flattened extra flat like leaking lamella. Bacon as Beaten Eggs  becomes Lacan's loitering leftover Lamella, the Alien as a pure puss puddle loin leaking appearance.  Bacon was not human and did not have a human appearance:  Helen Lessore remembers Bacon's alien features: "He was not the same shape as any other  human being, especially not his face." (The Gilded Gutter of Francis Bacon, Farson, Century, 1993).  Bacon was not 'human' or 'natural' as 'he himself' said to Peter Beard: "There's nobody more unnatural than I am myself, and, after all, I've worked on myself to be as unnatural as I can."   Salty Bacon said to peppered  Peppiatt in 1963: "With Nietzsche I believe that man must remake himself. We must woo the doctors and scientists in the attempt to renew and alter ourselves...the division between the sexes has to a large extent been invented...I have deliberately tried to twist myself, but I have not gone far enough. My paintings are, if you like, a record of this distortion....the image must be twisted if it is to make a renewed assault on the nervous system."   (Michael Peppiatt, Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma, Westview Press, 1996.)     

        Bacon paints alien-being-time not human-being-time. Alien Being is always already a particular pre-post time (too early, too late, never present at hand, at foot, on time in time): but broken off on thrown forth from Bacon's hand out-of-time outside language.  Bacon knows always already then there that  non rational, non-literal, non illustrational  arbitrary abject pushed-paint marks are anyhow linked leaked to the irrational 'language' and 'structure' soup sewer of the subconscious and the nervous system through  'identification':   "Non-illustrational form works first upon  sensation  and the slowly leaks back into the fact...Well, very often the involuntary marks are much more deeply suggestive  than others. One of the things I've tried to analyze is why it is that, if the formation of the image that you want is done irrationally, it seems to come onto the nervous system more strongly than if you knew how could do it."   Not 'knowing how to do it' is the key to cracking open up the thrown eggo-alien-being being boiled broken off over on out.

 

                                                                                               

                                                                                                                                

                                                                                                                                                Henrietta Moraes on a Red Ground 1964 Francis Bacon

 

        For  Bacon the image "seems to come straight out of what we choose to call the unconscious with the foam of the unconscious locked around it which is its freshness...there is a kind of sensational within the very, you could say, structure of your being, which is not to do with a mental image."   Bacon stated to the late David Sylvester that he wanted to:  "Break the willed articulation of the image , so that the image  will grow, as it were, spontaneously and within its own structure and not my structure...possibly, a more organic image arises than if it were a willed image."  (Francis Bacon: Interviews with David Sylvester).   Bacon's Henrietta Moraes on a Red Ground 1964  leaks lamella by the knees: some black splatter spatter slurp stuff nails the foam form to the bed and to your nervous system: mattress marks leaving lamella leakage skid on spine, spleen, slime.  Bacon paints Moraes' cunt as a black hole that leaks larva lava lather lamella; de Kooning and Freud cannot paint pussy: de Kooning's clownish cartoon cunts are too wet, over leaked; Feud's cunts are too dry, under leaked: cunts can't paint pussy - but Bacon's can.  But Bacon puts porous puss pussy in by oozing it out oily; pulling prodding poking painting it inside-out; no longer recognisable as 'Women' (whatever that is) but a radical alien Other:  there is no 'sexuality' seen smelt spilling streaming slipping slithering slurping sponging from Bacon's alien beings without orbit organs; they then  are actually now not really recognisable as already hideous  'human beings': they then thrown are always already 'alien beings': for freeze framed Bacon  'Woman' and  'Man' do not exist; they are always already late arrivals and early departers that have been thrown by chance into an altaric alien abject arena outside the present only to be thrown out, withdrawn from the scene; entirely forgotten and erased from mind and memory and the now that never was.  For Bacon 'Woman' and  'Man' are extinct excrement: time turd traces.  Bacon said to Joshua Gilder: "But most people never think about life. If you think of the way we live, we're living on the compost of the earth. The world is just a dung heap. It's made up of compost of the millions and millions who have died and are blowing about. The dead are blowing in your nostrils every hour, every second you breathe in. It's a macabre way of putting it, perhaps, but anything that's at all accurate about life is always macabre. After all, you're born to die."   (Francis Bacon, "I think about Death Every day", Joshua Gilder, Flash Art, May, 1983).

         Bacon being leaking lamella lets larva lava lather froth flow foam from filtered filleted fish form.  But Bacon bred the acting appearance of being The Homunculous and L'Hommelette but not The Homosexual - he was woundingly really rather:  The Sensationual - The Eggoual - The Alienoual.

         For bent Bacon: "Homosexuality is more tragic and more banal  than what's called normal love."  (Bacon in conversation with Michael Peppiatt, from  Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma, Michael Peppiatt Westview Press, 1996.)  Bacon hated a strange subspecies, classified as gay in the twentieth century, saying to Daniel Farson on several occasions: "I really hate gays."   Bacon hated fucking poofs.  Bacon being alien being didn't know what so-called 'human beings' (whatever they are) looked like so had to ask queers: "If ever I've wanted to know what someone really looks like, I've always asked a queer. They're ruthless and precise."   Bacon being an ancient ancestor arrived too late; dormant, delayed; a late starter: he belonged to a pre-historic, pre-linguistic, pre-sexual sensationism: he said to Peppiatt: "When I hear certain people talk, I always think I belong to a very ancient simplicity. I'm probably the simplest person you know. I'm simple and natural. After I'm dead people will see how absolutely natural my distortions are." (Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma, Michael Peppiatt Westview Press, 1996.)                                       

        Trauma  cannot be 'known' only 'thrown'. Trauma is actually activated when an alien - someone  special - who should be there  - who is no longer there  - anymore: after the calling out of the name is not returned  - the name - the alien - having abjected the scene -  a no-scape is opened up as an abspace swallowing the subject: a no-scape that cannot contain the return of the abjected alien: it is a constant calling into the abspace of the Nothing there.

        Subconsciously Bacon uses the Canvas as the Traumatic Screen Scape to Project Thrown Alien Identification (outside ore) Illustration as a Becoming Alien-ated again and again all the time (all the time).  Bacon (ab)uses oozed oil paint as a raw register of the 'real', as reel time, as thrown time, as a  material sign, as a visual sensation of despair, desire, trauma and loss where the dripping diarrhea shooting spunk and ontological oozing fluid leftovers leak becoming the messy memory turd trace traps of being-bled-born-out -of-the-world-out-of-body.  Bacon's  Henrietta Moraes on a Red Ground (1964)  has lamella leakage on the meandering mattress; perfectly plotted and positioned nailing body to bed: one of Bacon's best beasts Eggos. Bacon never had to beat eggs to make an omelette: Bacon could make an omelette without breaking eggs because he had no ego only an eggo outside the shell -  Bacon was born out-side the shell shocked shot leaked lava frothed fucked forth from an alteric atta lizard's loins. Bacon being born castigated castrated cut-off out-of place pain and space spleen as a severed sensation scape seeping dread Dasein drool. Contrary to Freud's formula 'art' is not a 'wish-fulfillment' -  but a 'dread-fulfillment'. Art activated is not a wish-fulfillment but a dread-fulfillment. Not even a dread-fulfillment but a dread-emptyment. Art alien does not attune to desire but to dread as ather to desire. Art alien decapitates itself from desire from Dasein. Art alien negotiates the negative. Art alien nails the negative. Art alien wishes for nothing but the fulfillment of its own demise its own decapitation. 

 

 

       "The School of Francis Bacon opens up the valves of Sensationism. In the Beginning there was always already only Sensation which was always always already already before the construction of the conceptual, meaning and narrative  - (which are always already added after the event of Sensation). Abstract Art does not exist. Conceptual Art does not exist. Contemporary Art does not exist. Sensation of the Image exists. Sensation is Image.  Sensation is Being. Being is Sensation. Truth is Sensation. Being Sensation. Truth Sensation."

 Alex Verney-Elliott, School of Francis Bacon, London, 2003.

 

 


        “The thing is one can’t really talk about painting, only around it. After all if you could explain it why would you bother to do it? You always hope that the paint will do more for you, but mostly it's like painting a wall when the very first brushstroke you do gives a sudden shock of reality that is cancelled out as you paint the whole surface. What one longs to do above all, I think, is to reinvent appearance, make it stranger, and more exciting. What one wants in art nowadays is a shorthand where the sensation comes across right away. All painting, well all art, is about sensation. Or at least it should be. After all, life itself is about sensation.”

Francis Bacon, Francis Bacon - In Your Blood - A Memoir,  Michael Peppiatt, Bloomsbury Circus: 2015.

 

 

 

        "It’s the sensations within yourself. It’s to do with the shock of two completely unillustrational things which come together and make an appearance. But again it’s all words, it’s all an approximation. I feel talking about painting is always superficial. We have lost our real directness. We talk in such a dreary, bourgeois kind of way. Nothing is ever directly said. You see, one has ideas, but it’s only what you make of them. Theories are no good, it’s only what you actually make. I feel talking about painting is always superficial. We have lost our real directness. We talk in such a dreary, bourgeois kind of way. Nothing is ever directly said."

Francis Bacon, Interviews with Artists, 1966 - 2012 , Michael Peppiatt, Yale University Press: 2012.

 

 

 

       "Art negates the conceptualization foisted on the real world. The truth of works of art hinges on whether or not they succeed, in accordance with their inner necessity, to absorb the non-conceptual and the contingent. For their purposefulness requires the purposelessness, which is illusion. Aesthetics cannot hope to grasp works of art if it treats them as hermeneutical objects. What at present needs to be grasped is their unintelligibility. By its mere existence, every artwork, as alien artwork to what is alienated, conjures up the circus and yet is lost as soon as it emulates it. Art becomes an image not directly by becoming an apparition but only through the counter-tendency to it. The subject only becomes the essence of the artwork when it confronts it foreignly, externally, and compensates for the foreigness by substituting itself for the work. Artworks win life only when they renounce likeness to the human. In one of the most remarkable passages of his Aesthetics, Hegel defined the task of art as the appropriation of the alien. Actually, only what does not fit into this world is true."

Theodor W. Adorno, Aesthetic Theory, The Athlone Press, 1997.

 

 

                                                                                                                                                           

 

                                                         S E N S A T I O N I S M

 

                                                                                                                                                                         

"What is painted is sensation." 

Francis Bacon  in conversation with Andrew Sinclair, 1988.          

 

 

"We are a sensation, without meaning...."

Alex Verney-Elliott, School of Francis Bacon, 2005.

 

 

"Drawing is not form, it is the sensation one has of it."

Edgar Degas,  Degas by himself,   Macdonald & Co., 1987.

 

 

"That enormous crowd eager for the pure sensations of art."

Victor Marie Hugo, 1802–1885.

 

 

"Presence in the lighting articulates all the human senses."

The Anaximander Fragment.

 

 

"Has not all philosophy been a misunderstanding of sensation?"

Alex Alien, School of Francis Bacon, 2004.

 

 

"Life is a series of sensations connected to different states of consciousness."

Rémy de Gourmont, 1858-1915.

 

 

"It is not the strength but the duration of exalted sensations which makes exalted men."

Friedrich Nietzsche, Maxims and Interludes, Beyond Good and Evil, 1885.

 

"I'll tell you how I think of my own work: it unlocks the valves of sensation at different levels."

Francis Bacon, Remarks from an Interview with Peter Beard, MOMA, New York 1975.

 

 

"Thoughts are the shadows of our sensations - always darker, emptier, simpler than these."

Friedrich Nietzsche, The  Gay Science, 1882.

 

 

"Clear out the inner world! There are still many false beings in it! Sensation and thought are enough for me."

Friedrich Nietzsche, Summer, 1883.

 

 

"This sensation to be possessed by a sensation of dispossession and the answer I gave, this fight to conquer what nowhere can be found."

Hélène Cixous, Les rêveries de la femme sauvage, 2000.

 

 

"What I am trying to convey to you is more mysterious; it is entwined in the very roots of being, in the impalpable source of sensations." 

Joachim Gasquet, Cézanne; Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Eye and Mind, 1964.

 

 

"Art can cease to be a report on sensations and become a direct organisation of higher sensations. It is a matter of producing ourselves, and not things that enslave us."

Guy Debord, These on Cultural RevolutionGuy Debord and the Situationist International, The MIT Press, 2002.

 

 

"The smoothness, the tumescence, the milky flow of feminine nudity anticipate a sensation of liquid outpour, which itself opens onto death like a window onto a courtyard."

Georges Bataille, Eroticism, 1957.

 

 

"Like everything else in Bacon's pictures each element contributes not towards the creation of beauty, but to achieve the most vivid possible communication of a sensation."  

Nigel Gosling, Report from The Underworld, The Observer Weekend Review, 27th May, 1962.

 

 

"Can you make of a head an image? An image which unlocks the valves of sensation deeper than the appearance? Of course, I'm drunk today and I don't really talk very clearly."

Francis Bacon interviewed by Hugh M. Davies on August 13 1973, from  Francis Bacon: The Papal Portraits of 1953.

 

 

"To sensation is to confine yourself to a single sensation that one day stands still like a star in the world's sky. We never come to sensations. They come to us. The splendour of the sensation. Being the sensation."

Alex Verney-Elliott, Being & Alien, 2006.

 

 

"The paint acquires a wonderful plenitude in becoming flesh. This kind of paint surface is part of the work of delivering sensations not propositions, and it is neither idly sumptuous nor 'ironically' sexy."  

Robert Hughes,  Nothing If Not Critical, Selected Essays on Art and Artists,  Alfred A. Knopf,  New York, 1990. 

 

 

"The artist is only a receptacle for sensations, a brain, a recording device...I paint as I see, as I feel - and I have very strong sensations... As sensations form the foundation of my business, I believe myself invulnerable."  

Paul Cézanne, Conversations with Cézanne, University of California Press,  2001.

 

 

"Sensation is an extremity of perception.  It is the limit at which perception is eclipsed by the sheerness of experience, unreasoned-out, yet unextended into analytically ordered, predictably reproducible, possible action."

Brian Massumi, The Evolutionary Alchemy of Reason, New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1998.

 

 

"I think that only time tells about painting...I think that the potency of the image is created partly by the possibility of its enduring. And, of course, images accumulate sensation around themselves the longer they endure."

Francis Bacon, The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 1987.

 

 

"Beings will have to be thought of as sensations that are no longer based on something devoid of sensation. In motion, no new content is given to sensation. That which IS, cannot contain motion: therefore it is a form of being."

Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, Book Three: Principles of a New Evaluation.

 

 

"To paint from nature is not to copy an object; it is to represent its sensations...The painter must become classical again through nature, or, in other words, through  sensation. It all comes down to this: to have sensations and to read nature."

Paul Cézanne, Conversation with Emile BernardConversation with  Cézanne,  University of California Press, 2001.

 

 

"What one wants in art nowadays is a shorthand where the sensation comes across right away. All painting, well all art, is about sensation. Or at least it should be. After all, life itself is about sensation. It’s the sensations within yourself. ”

Francis Bacon, Francis Bacon - In Your Blood - A Memoir,  Michael Peppiatt, Bloomsbury Circus: 2015.

 

 

"Philosophy teaches the eyelids to close tighter and tighter to bar anything still presented by the senses, teaches the gaze to turn inward to the soul, that screen for the projection of ideal images. The horror of nature is magicked away: it will be seen only through the blind of intelligible categories, and the weaknesses that ultimately will lay man low will be laid at the door of an insufficiently lofty point of view."

Luce Irigaray, Marine Lover of Friedrich Nietzsche, Columbia University Press, 1991.

 

 

"I feel more and more that nothing matters or will happen until someone makes a new technical synthesis that can carry over from the sensation to our nervous system. The thing I was very shocked by when I saw our things at Unesco, your three and mine, was the boring lack of reality, the lack of immediacy which we have so often talked about."

Francis Bacon in a letter to Graham Sutherland, Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma,  Michael Peppiatt,  Westview Press, 1996.     

 

 

"Can sensation be assimilated to an original opinion, to Urdoxa as the world's foundation or immutable basis? Phenomenology finds sensation in perceptual and affective 'a priori materials' that transcend the perceptions and affections of the lived."

Gilles Deleuze & Felix Guattari, What is Philosophy?, Verso, 1994.

 

 

"Artuad appears to have been afflicted with an extraordinary inner life, in which the intricacy and clamorous pitch of his physical sensations and the convulsive intuitions of his nervous system seemed permanently at odds with his ability to give them verbal form."

Susan Sontag,  Antonin Artaud: Selected Writings, University of California Press, 1988.

 

 

"The difference between the impressionistic sensation, which is rapid, ephemeral and fleeting, and that of Cézanne is that his sensations result logically in the full knowledge of the subject in the classical sense. Cézanne often said that he wished to 'become classical again through nature, that is to say, through sensation.'..."

John Rewald, Cézanne, A Biography, London 1986.

 

 

"How can we release sensations, affections, emotions from the tyranny of the 'I feel'? How can we reach the impersonal 'it feels'? How can we manage to find a land that is different from and extraneous to conventional feeling, in which personal experience founded on subjectivity at last collapses? Western philosophy has known the answer since the times of the ancient Greeks..."

Mario Perniola, Feeling the Difference, Extreme Beauty, Continuum: New York & London, 2002.

 

 

"The mixed sensations, which transform unpleasant objects and sensations into sources of aesthetic pleasure, are superior to 'purest enjoyment' because they provide an enlivening solicitation of our sensitivity to a heightened degree by means of changing sides - of performing a trajectory with a considerable amplitude of tension."

Winfried Menninghaus, Disgust: Theory and History of a Strong Sensation; The Beautiful as Vomitive,  State University of New York Press, 2003.

 

 

"All sensations have appellations of their own, e.g. for sight red, green, yellow, for taste sweet, sour, etc., but smell cannot have proper appellations; rather, we borrow the appellations from other sensations, e.g. it smells sour, or has a smell of roses or carnations, it smells like moschus. These are all appellations from other sensations. Hence we cannot describe smell."

Immanuel Kant, Reflexionem zur Anthropologie.

 

 

"Baudelaire's obsession, his 'speciality'  (indeed, his trademark), was the 'sensation of the new'. Benjamin speaks of 'the inestimable value for Baudelaire of nouveauté. The new cannot be interpreted, or compared. It becomes the ultimate retrenchment of art.'  Making novelty 'the highest value' was the strategy of l'art pour l'art, the aesthetic position Baudelaire adopted in 1852."

Susan Buck-Morss, The Dialectic of Seeing: Walter Benjamin and the Arcades Project, MIT Press, 1991.

 

 

"Bacon's aim is to record sensation as directly as possible because sensation is an essential part of the experience of reality which he wants to re-invent. 'It may be,' he has said, 'that realism is always subjective.'  This rests on the phenomenalist tenet that we experience reality indirectly, via the evidence of our senses, and consequently that perception constitutes our sense of reality."

Paul Moorhouse, The Crucifixion in Bacon's ArtArt International, No. 8, Autumn 1989..

 

 

"The opposition between intelligence and sensation is crucial for Bacon. Sensation may include intelligence but the intellect can bypass sensation. Bacon wants his painting to operate primarily through sensation, otherwise it becomes a mere vehicle: 'I want very, very much to do the thing that Valéry said - to give the sensation without the boredom of its conveyance. And the moment the story enters, the boredom comes upon you'...."  

Dawn Ades,  Francis Bacon, Web Of Images, Tate Gallery Publications, 1985.

 

 

"Whenever something caught Francis Bacon's attention, his normally genial gaze took on a cold, piercing intensity - like a bird suddenly sporting its prey...If you were unfortunate enough to have that look returned on you (and if you spent much time with Bacon, at some point it became inevitable), you had the sensation of being taken apart, swiftly and mercilessly...Vision was where all the senses and all experience converged in their most complete and potent form..."

Michael Peppiatt, Bacon's Eyes, Francis Bacon & the Tradition of Art, Skira, 2004.

 

 

"Levinas's main aim in 'Sensibility and the Face' is to show that although the notion of sensation has been 'somewhat rehabbillitated,' it must always fall short of naming the relation to the face, the ethical relation. Sensation must always participate in the discourse of light which has defined it since Plato. Vision always discerns and receives beings in and from an illuminated space and against the backdrop of a horizon, a horizon which rules out the thought of beings as coming from elsewhere. They come as if from nowhere, as if from out of nothingness."

Paul Davies, The Face and the Caress, Levinas's Ethical Alterations of Sensibility, Modernity and the Hegemony of Vision, University of California Press, 1993.

 

 

"What can the philosophizing person stake? Answer: his own anxiety and boredom, his own listening to the call of conscience. Any philosophizing that does not take its beginning from the moments of true sensation is devoid of roots and relevance...In short, existential analytics, to be understood at all, requires existential engagement. Heidegger therefore must find a way to conjure up in his students those moments of true sensation. He must, in a sense, stage manage them...The moments of true sensation - anxiety, boredom, call to conscience - have to be aroused in his students so that the 'mystery off Dasein' that inhabits them may show itself."

Rüdiger Safranski, Martin Heidegger: Between Good and Evil, Harvard University Press, 1998.

 

 

"How do words refer to sensations? - there doesn't seem to be any problem here; don't we talk about sensations every day, and give them names? But how is the connection between the name and the sensation set up? This question is the same as: how does a human being learn the names of sensations? - of the word pain, for example. Words are connected with the primitive, the natural, expressions of the sensation and used in their place...But suppose I didn't have any natural expression for the sensation, but only had the sensation? And now I simply associate names with sensations and use these names in descriptions."

Ludwig, Wittgenstein, The Private Langauge Argument, Philosophical Investigations, 1953. 

 

 

"A purely sensory being, Rousseau demonstrated, could not possibly comprehend the identity of an object simultaneously seen and touched. Rousseau went further. He compared the 'sensation of self' and the 'perception' of the external world, and arrived at the conclusion that an individual could 'have' a sensation only if he entered into the sensation of self; and since perceptions brought home what existed outside, while at the same time existing only in the medium of the sensation of the self, it followed that without a sensation of self there was no existence. Or the other way about: the sensation of self produced existence."

Rüdiger Safranski, Schopenhauer and the Wild Years of Philosophy, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1989.

 


"We only know our own sensations, not those of the other...The sensations of the sexual act themselves have a provocative agreement with figures. The sensation exhibits the true object of desire (but the object of desire is itself an exhibit of the sensation). The tepidness of rain in the [brambles? rosebushes?], the dull fulguration of the storm, evoke both the figure and the inner sensation of eroticism. The smoothness, the tumescence, the milky flow of feminine nudity anticipate a sensation of liquid outpour, which itself opens onto death like a window onto a courtyard. But it is human to search, from lure to lure, for a life that is at last autonomous and authentic."

 
Georges Bataille, The Object of Desire and the Totality of the Real, Zone Books, 1993.


 

"There are no feelings in Bacon: there are nothing but affects; that is, 'sensations' and 'instincts,' according to the formula of naturalism. Sensation is what determines instinct at a particular moment, just as instinct is the passage from one sensation to another, the search for the 'best' sensation (not the most agreeable sensation, but the one that fills the flesh at a particular moment of its descent, contraction, or dilation)... Cézanne, it is said, is the painter who put a vital rhythm into the visual sensation...Could it be that Bacon's closed and artificial world reveals the same vital movement as Cézanne's Nature?...What is ultimate is thus the relation between sensation and rhythm, which places in each sensation the levels and domains through which it passes. This rhythm runs through a painting just as it runs through a piece of music."

 Gilles Deleuze,  Painting & Sensation; Francis Bacon: The Logic of Sensation, Continuum, 2003.

 

 

"Let us turn briefly to the philosophical debate that asks whether a sensation is a thought. This debate has important ramifications for contemporary philosophical inquiry, but its origins date back to antiquity....Sensation, which cannot be reduced to ideas even though it is intrinsically dependent on them, can never be equivalent to Intelligence...Nevertheless, sensation can only exist if it makes itself intelligible...The difficulty of defining sensation prompts us to shift our discussion to a disorder that has attracted the attention of psychotherapists, psychiatrists, neurologists, and contemporary psychoanalysis: autism... I refer to this ailment because its specialists have offered a useful theoretical understanding of sensation and of the relationship between sensation and language."

Julia Kristeva, Is Sensation a Form of Language? ;  Time and Sense,  New York : Columbia University Press, 1996.

 

 

"Bacon’s 'middle way' is not figuration. It is not a synthetic unity of empirical objects represented to subjects. The figure is not a representation. The figure is sensation itself. It renders visible the forces that are invisible.  Sensation is the expression of sub-representative forces that do not resemble it.  It is not representational figuration that provokes sensation. Rather, sensation produces a new resemblance from real difference.  Sensation is the non-resembling means that provokes the figure. Bacon paints the sensation itself.  Horror is inferred from the scream, not the reverse. If the scream is inferred from a subjective sensation of horror or a horrifying object, then narration and representation are re-introduced.  Sensation - the figure - the scream is botched. "

Beth Metcalf,  Deleuze's Francis Bacon: The Logic of Sensation, January 2006.


 

"The dream (or daydream) of painting sensation is not exclusive to Bacon and underpins the work of numerous modern artists. Empiricism, that particularly British phenomenon, also has a part to play here, for sensation, surely, is a link with the reality that is both in things and in the self? Artists are engaged not only in experiencing sensations, like anyone else, but in evaluating them, in knowing and recognizing them, and refining them as to give them new form. Cézanne and Bacon share an idea of the continuity between the object viewed and the sensation this produces in the viewer, a continuity that is almost physical. The artist's  job is to record this sensation. In Bacon's case the sensation passes directly to the nervous system, without the intermediary of the brain or intellect, less still of knowledge and speech. Listening to Bacon, it is easy to understand how little this sensation has to do with the sensational, with facile effects, or with feelings of repulsion or passions of any kind. the spectacle of pain and the violence that emerges out of the artist's work refer back to a naked matter, the chaos as the common condition of life."    

Christophe Domino, Francis Bacon 'Taking Reality by Surprise', New Horizons, Thames & Hudson: 1997.

 

 

 

"Sensations were the root of everything for Cézanne. From the beginning to the end of his career, they were his pride and justification. ...The sensations for which he continued to seek an expression to the end of his life, as he explained to Henri Gasquet, the friend of his youth, were 'the confused sensations which we bring with us when we are born'.  the word had, in fact, a double meaning - contact with nature 'revived within us the instincts, the artistic sensations that reside within us'.  The double meaning of the word corresponds to the dual significance attaching to the paint marks themselves in the late work. It is in the last two years of  Cézanne's life that the sensations are identified precisely as colour sensations, the sensations of colour that give light."

Lawrence Gowing, Cézanne: The Logic of Organised SensationsConversations with Cézanne, University of California Press, 2001.

 

 

''Disgust uses images of sensation or suggests the sensory merely by describing the disgusting thing so as to capture what makes it disgusting...For one thing, it is easy to come up with words to describe disgusting sensations when these are moist, viscid, pliable, than when they are dry, free flowing, or hard. For every disgusting scabby or crusty thing there are tens of disgusting oozy, mucky, gooey, slimy, clammy, sticky, tacky, dank, squishy, or filmy things...We thus talk of how our senses are offended, of stenches that make us retch, of tactile sensations of slime, ooze, and wriggly, slithering, creepy things that make us cringe and recoil...because the threatening thing is disgusting, one does not want to strike it, touch it, or grapple with it. Because it is frequently something that has already gotten inside of you or takes you over and possesses you, there is often no distinct other to fight anyway." 

William Ian Miller,  The Anatomy of Disgust,  Harvard University Press, 1997.

 

 

"Can it be that even the greatest Philosopher ever arrived at his Goal without putting aside numerous objections? However it may be, O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts! It is 'a Vision in the form of Youth,' a shadow of reality to come--and this consideration has further convinced me,--for it has come as auxiliary to another favourite speculation of mine,--that we shall enjoy ourselves hereafter by having what we called happiness on Earth repeated in a finer tone. And yet such a fate can only befall those who delight in Sensation, rather than hunger as you do after Truth. Adam's dream will do here, and seems to be a Conviction that Imagination and its empyreal reflexion, is the same as human life and its spiritual repetition. But, as I was saying, the simple imaginative Mind may have its rewards in the repetition of its own silent Working coming continually on the Spirit with a fine Suddenness."

John Keats, Work on Endymion, 1817.

 

 

"To begin with, we can divide the senses of corporeal feeling into those of the vital sensation (sensus vagus) and those of organic sensation (sensus fixus); and, since they are met with only where there are nerves, into  those affecting the whole system of nerves, and those which affect only those nerves belonging to a certain member of the body. The sensations of warmth and cold, even those aroused by the mind (for example, through quickly rising hope or fear), belong to the vital sensation. The shudder seizing people even at the idea of something sublime, and the terror with which nurses' tales drive children to bed late at night, belong to the later type. they penetrate the body, so far as it is alive...disgust, a stimulus to discharge something that has been consumed through the shortest path of the gullet (to vomit), is given to the human being as such a strong vital sensation, since such an inner intake...can be dangerous."

Immanuel Kant,  Anthropology from a Pragmatic Point of View, 1798.

 

 

"Sensation, which is at the basis of sensible experience and intuition, is not reducible to the clarity or the idea derived out of it. Not because it would involve an opaque element resistant to the luminousness of the intelligible, but still defined in terms of light and sight. It is vulnerability, enjoyment and suffering, whose status is not reducible to the fact of being put before a spectator subject. The intentionality involved in disclosure, and the symbolization of a totality which the openness of being aimed at by intentionality involved, would not constitute the sole or even the dominant signification of the sensible. The dominant meaning of sensibility should indeed enable us to account for its secondary signification as a sensation, the element of cognition. We have already said that the fact that sensibility can become 'sensible intuition' and enter into the adventure of cognition is not a contingency. The dominant signification of sensibility is already caught sight of in vulnerability."

Emmanuel Levinas, Otherwise Than Being, 1974.

 

 

"However, even as he grants special privilege to painting, Deleuze acknowledges that all the modern arts can share in the quest for a logic of sensation...Deleuze notes, modern music often employs the aural as a way to capture the chromatic, and painting often uses the visual to grab at the invisible...we might say that Logique de la sensation is Deleuze's own 'pedagogy of the image' , constructing for us the representation of a painterly practice that deforms the world to make us see anew...Deleuze notes how the primacy of blue and red in Bacon's face's serves as a reminder of the fleshy, meaty aspect of the face, but in this way the colours open up the figure to temporality, becoming flesh in mutation. As Deleuze puts it, 'colour-structure gives was to  colour-force; because each dominant, each broken tone indicates the immediate exercise of a force upon a corresponding zone of the body or the head, it renders force immediately visible.'..."   

Dana Polan, Francis Bacon: The Logic of Sensation,  Gilles Deleuze and the Theatre of Philosophy (1994).

 

 

"Sensations of feeling or sensual feelings are inseparable from their founding sensations. The pleasantness of a savoury dish, the agony of a sensual pain, the comfort of a soft garment are noticed where the food is tasted, where the pain pierces, where the garment clings to the body's surface. However, sensual feelings not only are there but at the same time also in me; they issue from my 'I'...A 'withered' limb without sensations is not part of my living body...For the living body is essentially constituted through sensations: sensations are real constituents of consciousness and, as such, belong to the 'I'....Whether a sensing 'I' is conceivable without a living body is  another question. This is the question of whether there could be sensations in which no living body is constituted. The answer can be given with further ado because, as already stated, the sensations of the various sensory provinces do not share in the structure of the living body in the same manner."

Edith Stein, On the Problem of Empathy, 1989, ICS Publications, Washington DC.

 

 

"It is a characteristic of sensation to pass through different levels owing to the action forces. But two sensations, each having their own level or zone, can also confront each other and make their respective levels communicate. Here we are no longer in the domain of simple vibration, but that of resonance. There are thus two Figures couples together. Or rather, what is decisive is the coupling of sensations: there is one and the same matter of fact for two figures, or even a single coupled Figure for two bodies. From the start, we have seen that, according to Bacon, the painter could not give up the idea of painting several Figures in the painting at the same time, although there was always the danger of reintroducing a 'story' or falling back into narrative painting. The question thus concerns the possibility that there may exist relations between simultaneous Figures that are nonillustrative and nonnarrative  (and not even logical), and which could be called, precisely, 'matters of fact'. Such indeed is indeed the case here, where the coupling of sensations from different levels creates the coupled figure (and not the reverse). What is painted is the sensation. There is a beauty to these entangled Figures."

Gilles Deleuze, Couples and Triptychs;  Francis Bacon: The Logic of Sensation, Continuum, 2003.

 

 

"In the Critique of Pure Reason, sensation, as 'something,' occupies the place of the inextinguishably ontical. But sensation holds no higher cognitive rank than any other real entity.... Sensations - the Kantian matter, without which forms would not even be imaginable, so that the forms also qualify the possibility of cognition - sensations have the character of transiency. Nonconceptuality, inalienable from the concept, disavows the the concept's being-in-itself. It changes the concept...There is no sensation without a somatic moment. To this extent the concept of sensation, in comparison with that which it allegedly subsumes, is twisted so as to satisfy the demand for an autarkic connection of all cognitive steps. While sensation is a part of consciousness, according to the cognitive principle of styling, its phenomenology - unbiased, under the rules of cognition - would have to describe it equally as that which consciousness does not exhaust. Every sensation is a physical feeling also."

Theodor W. Adorno, Negative Dialectics, Routledge, 1973.

 

 

"In what the senses of sight, hearing, and touch convey, in the sensations of colour, sound, rough, roughness, hardness, things move us bodily, in the literal meaning of the word. The thing is the aistheton, that which is perceptible by sensations in the senses belonging to sensibility... Hence the concept later becomes a commonplace according to which a thing is nothing but the unity of a manifold of what is given in the senses. Whether this unity is conceived as sum or as totality or as Gestalt alters nothing in the standard character of this thing-concept...We never really first perceive a throng of sensations, e.g., tones and noises, in the appearance of things - as this thing-concept alleges, after we hear the storm whistling in the chimney, we hear the three-motored plane, we hear the Mercedes in immediate distinction from the Volkswagen. Much closer to us than all sensations are the things themselves. We hear the door shut in the house and never hear acoustical sensations or even mere sounds. In order to hear a bare sound we have to listen away from things, divert our ear from them, i.e., listen abstractly."

Martin Heidegger, The Origin of the Work of Art, 1935.

 

 

"To reiterate Kant, sensation is thought without purposiveness. It is thought that is not taken up by a concept into some telos, some definite finality beyond itself. Just a present, not a future or a plan. It is an impression, but not that of the Impressionists. An impression expressed, but not that of Expressionism. Always outwards facing to the world, but with an entirely internal character of its own. Already a complex assemblage of interactions across the many planes of the mind, planes that anticipate perception, but singular as these complex registers resonate at the same time. This singularity frames the sensation, but not in any discursive context, only as a repetition of affects. In his rejection of narrative in favour of the triptych, the attendant figure and repetition, Bacon is the most Kantian of painters yet. His approach is always to address the sensation with a diagram (as Deleuze calls a painterly technique applied to thought). The diagram immediately diverts the path of the sensation onto the canvas and back out into sensation. Diverts it away from assimilation to concepts and narrative. It establishes, frames, a second register like that of the anticipations of perception, this time on the canvas. The painting becomes a focus for the repetition of the sensation, to the painter and others. It is as Kant says, a sensus communis."

Robert O'Toole, Kant, painting unlocking sensation in senus communis; Warwick Blogs, University of Warwick, August 18 2004.

 

 

"The critique of philosophical intellectualism enters into Jean Wahl's exposition wherever life turns into ideas that transcend it, shedding the keen immediacy and sensation of being. 'We must communicate substantially with what is substantial in things.' This conception of sensation concurs, on many essential points, with Bergson's intuition...The aspect of sensations that Wahl is interested in is less their affective warmth than a certain violence and intensity.  Sensation is something savage, dense, opaque, dark, 'blind, bare contact.' It is described as a jolt, a shiver, a spasm. As if  the intensity of the sensation constituted its content rather than its degree, as if the essence of the sensation could be reduced to that tension, that contraction in which we could catch in the act of movement of being toward its interiority, its descent into self. A movement radically opposed to transcendence: instead of losing or finding itself in the universal, sensation, tensed on itself, affirms the inner substance of man, or the personal structure of being. As philosophy of sensation opposed to Heidegger's. Sensation does not mark our presence in the world, overcome by its own nothingness, but marks the way in which we descend into, and concentrate on, ourselves."

Emmanuel Levinas,  Jean Wahl and SensationProper Names, The Athlone Press, 1996.

 

 

"Deleuze, in his book on the painter Francis Bacon and Deleuze and Guattari in What Is Philosophy?, characterize three elements of an artistic monument, citing the paintings of van Gogh, Gauguin, and Bacon as examples, which together render imperceptible sensory becomings perceptible. These elements are the flesh, the house, and the universe-cosmos. Deleuze says that the new problem of painting after Cézanne for all three painters was that of creating vast homogenous fields 'that carry toward infinity' as the ground for a figure/flesh which preserves the 'specificity or singularity of a form in perceptual variation. One might say that the 'flesh,' as the element of the painting most closely associated with an embodied subject, represents a perspective on sensory becoming. Although flesh is involved in revealing sensation, however, Deleuze and Guattari say it is no more than a thermometer of sensory becoming. The portraits of van Gogh, Gauguin, and Bacon depict flesh in unnatural colours and broken tones. This conveys some of the variability of a passage of sensory becoming in relationship to the universe-cosmos - the monochrome fields that ground the flesh...The relationship between the first element of flesh and the third element of the field or universe-cosmos is mediated by the second element, the house, or what, in reference to Bacon's paintings, Deleuze calls the contour. In Bacon's paintings, Deleuze claims that the contour - the circle or oval, chair or bed, on which the flesh or figure is placed - acts as the membrane through which a double exchange between the figure and the background field flows. It is in this second element of the house or contour that the body blossoms. It is he house or contour that gives sensation the power to stand on its own by acting as a kind of filter for cosmic forces. The painting creates a being of sensation that stands on its own. The being of sensation is not located in the figure of the painting; that is, it is not the flesh but rather the relationship among figure, house or contour, and universe-cosmos or field."

Tamsin Lorraine, Irigaray and Deleuze: Experiments In Visceral Philosophy, Cornell University Press, 1999.

 

 

 

"Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion manifests a terrible, expressive violence. It does not represent any violent act. But some undefined and inhuman violence that occurred in an unseen space beyond the limits of the painting has impressed its horror on the forms and the coloured areas surrounding them...The human and bestial elements composing the figures, all rendered ambiguous by their respective deformation, are so impenetrable and enigmatic as to thwart comprehension of any explicit meaning. Any attempt to deduce prior intention in the morphology of these bodies by means of logic will fail, collapsing in admission that this painting leads into an unknown area, at whose boundaries conventional logic must halt. In Bacon, painting is not a field for the imitation of apparent reality, but an independent and artificial act emerging from the innermost and most instinctive needs of the individual, dominated exclusively by the profound, wild force of expression... More animal than human, so excessive as to become unaware of its own expressive implications: it is no longer capable of communicating anything intelligible. The very obscurity of the origin of this sensation and the likely identity of the visible subject allows the image to avoid any particular illustrative signification and penetrate instead to the quicker and more intuitive level of the  mind: where sensations act, such as the modes of awareness that precede logic and run deeper than it...The profound, pre-rational faculty that emerges when a nearly superhuman force subverts the conventional order of knowledge is called sensation. And it is this that Bacon arouses and elaborates in the act of painting: it is a blind condition, because neither its nature, orientation, nor outcome are defined. It is a condition that transcends the normal state of the human condition, driving existence into a state of hypersensitivity, where it too is unaware of the outcome."

Luigi Ficacci, Bacon, 'Obsessed by Life', The Expression of Horror, Taschen, 2003.

 

 

 

"In giving up the outline Cézanne was abandoning himself to chaos of sensation, which would upset the objects and constantly suggest illusions, as, for example, the illusion we have when we move our heads that objects themselves are moving if our judgment did not constantly set these appearances straight. According to Bernard, Cézanne 'submerged his painting in ignorance and his mind in shadows.'  But one cannot really judge his painting in this way except by closing one's mind to half of what he said and one's eyes to what he painted. It is clear from his conversations with Emile Bernard that Cézanne was always seeking to avoid the ready-made alternatives suggested to him: sensation versus judgment; the painter who sees against the painter who thinks; nature versus composition; primitivism as opposed to tradition. 'We have to develop an optics,'  Cézanne said, 'by which I mean a logical vision', that is, 'one with no element of the absurd.' 'Are you speaking of our nature?' asked Bernard. Cézanne: 'It has to do with both.' 'But aren't nature and art different?' 'I want to make them the same. Art is a personal apperception, which I embody in sensations and which I ask the understanding to organize into a painting.'..."

Maurice Merleau-Ponty,  Cézanne's Doubt,  Sense and Non-Sense,  Northwestern University Press, 1964.

 

 

"Thus, perceptions, presentations, volitions, and emotions, in short the whole inner and outer world, are put together, in combinations of varying evanescence and permanence, out of a small number of homogeneous elements. Usually, these elements are called sensations. But as vestiges of a one-sided theory inhere in that term, we prefer to speak simply of elements, as we have already done. The aim of all research is to ascertain the mode of connexion of these elements. If it proves impossible to solve the problem by assuming one set of such elements, then more than one will have to be assumed. But for the questions under discussion it would be improper to begin by making complicated assumptions in advance. The primary fact is not the ego, but the elements (sensations). What was said on p. 21 as to the term 'sensation'  must be borne in mind. The elements constitute the I. s have the sensation green, signifies that the element green occurs in a given complex of other elements (sensations, memories). When I cease to have the sensation green, when I die, then the elements no longer occur in the ordinary, familiar association. That is all."

Ernst Mach,  The Analysis of Sensations,  1886.

 

 

"Art is a personal apperception, which I embody in sensations and which I ask the understanding to organize into a painting...We perceive things, we agree about them, they are deep-rooted in us and it is on the basis of this "nature" that we erect knowledge. It is this primeval world that  Cézanne wanted to paint, and that is why his pictures give the impression of nature at its source, whereas photographs of the same landscapes suggest the works of humanity...when one looks at (his pictures) as a whole, (they give) the impression, as in normal vision, of a new order being born, of an object in the act of appearing, in the act of coming together in front of our eyes... In primeval perception, distinctions between touch and sight are unknown. It is the knowledge of the human body which teaches us in the end to distinguish between our senses. The actual experience is not found or made from sense data themselves, but directly presents itself as the center from which sense data radiate."  

Maurice Merleau-Ponty,  Cézanne's Doubt,  Sense and Non-Sense,  Northwestern University Press, 1964.


 

"In order to establish sensation we must proceed on the basis of a certain realism; thus we take as valid our perception of the Other, the Other's senses, and inductive instruments. But on the level of sensation all this realism disappears, sensation, a modification which one suffers, gives us information only about ourselves; it belongs with the 'lived.' Nevertheless it is sensation which I give as the basis of my knowledge of the external world... My perception of the Other's senses serves me as a foundation for an explanation of sensations and in particular of my sensations, but reciprocally my sensations thus conceived constitute the only reality of my perception of the Other's senses... in fact if I start with the Other's body, I apprehend it as an instrument and in so far as I myself make use of it as an instrument...Therefore if I conceive of my body in the image of the Other's body, it is an instrument in the world which I must handle delicately and which is like a key to the handling of other tools....my body always extends across the tool which it utilizes:...it is at the end of the telescope which shows me the stars... The body is an instrument which I am..."

Jean-Paul Sartre, The Body; Being & Nothingness, University Paperback 1969.

 

 

"Suppose that power resides solely in the feeling of power, that, as Nietzsche says, 'It is not the works, it is the faith [or 'belief', der Glaube] that is decisive here, that determines the order of rank'. How in that case could the distinction between a rightful and a false claim be adjudicated, between 'active' willing and 'reactive' ressentiment? How could one tell (say) Zarathustra and Wagner apart if and insofar as both had the same feeling, the same pleasurable sensation of power (the same Gefuhl)?  Power is inseparable from the sensation one has of power, because power depends upon a pleasurable feeling, upon a sensation of difference, 'a feeling of more power ('ein Plus-Gefuhl von Macht,'), or as he writes in Beyond Good and Evil, 'the feeling of growth, the feeling of increased power.'  This is the only criterion of power.  How, then, can Nietzsche coherently deny to anyone who possesses the sensation a rightful claim to power?  And how certifiable is the sensation? Does feeling certify power, or is it the other way round?...The will to power, so viewed, is now vulnerable to Nietzsche's critique of decadence and ressentiment (a term whose root meaning, in the sentiment of sensation, brings us back again to the problem of power as the sensation of power."

James I. Porter, Nietzsche and the Seduction of Metaphysics,  2000,  Department of Classical Studies, University of Michigan.

 

 

"There are in fact no illusions of the senses, but only mistakes in interpreting sensational data as signs of things other than themselves. Or to speak more exactly, there is no evidence that there are illusions of the senses. Every sensation which is of a familiar kind brings with it various associated beliefs and expectations. When, say, we see and hear an airplane, we do not merely have the visual sensation and the auditory sensation of a whirring noise; spontaneously and without conscious thought we interpret what we see and hear and fill it out with customary adjuncts. To what extent we do this becomes obvious when we make a mistake - for example, when what we thought was an airplane turns out to be a bird. "

Bertrand Russell,  Human Knowledge: Its Scope and Limits, Simon & Schuster, New York. 1948. 

 

 

"The self-realisation of the idea means that it negates itself and ceases to be a mere idea. What is then this not-thinking, that which is differentiated from thinking? It is the sensuous. The self-realisation of the idea means, accordingly, that it makes itself into an object of the senses. The reality of the idea is thus sensation. But reality is the truth of the idea; thus, sensation is the truth of the idea. Precisely so we managed to make sensation a predicate and the idea or thought a subject. But why, then, does the idea represent itself in sensation? Why is it not true when it is not real, that is, sensuous? Is not its truth made, therefore, dependent on sensation? Is not meaning and worth granted to the sensuous for itself, disregarding the fact that it is the reality of the idea? If sensation for itself is nothing, of what need is it to the idea? If only the idea gives value and content to sensation, then sensation is a pure luxury and a trifle; it is only an illusion that the idea presents to itself. But it is not so. The idea is required to realise itself and represent itself in sensation only because, unknowing to the idea, reality and sensation, independent of the idea, are presupposed as the truth. The idea proves its worth through sensation; how would this be possible if sensation were not unconsciously accepted as the truth? Because, however, one starts consciously with the truth of the idea, the truth of sensation is expressed only afterward, and sensation is made only into an attribute of the idea."

Ludwig Feuerbach, The Philosophy of the Future, 1843.

 

 

"Sensation is intentional because I find that in the sensible a certain rhythm of existence is put forward - abduction or adduction - and that, following up this hint, and stealing into the form of existence which is thus suggested to me, I am brought into relation with an external being, whether it be in order to open myself to it or to shut myself off from it... As for the subject of sensation, he need not be a pure nothingness with no terrestrial weight... Between my sensation and myself there stands always the thickness of some primal acquisition which prevents my experience from being clear of itself... Sensation can be anonymous only because it is incomplete. If we try to seize ‘sensation’ within the perspective of the bodily phenomena which pave the way to it, we find […] a formation already […] endowed with a meaning...the sensor and the sensible do not stand in relation to each other as two mutually external terms, and sensation is not an invasion of the sensor by the sensible. It is my gaze which subtends colour, and the movement of my hand which subtends the object’s form, or rather my gaze pairs off with colour, and my hand with hardness and softness, and in this transaction between the subject of the sensation and the sensible it cannot be said that one acts while the other suffers the action, or that one confers significance on the other. Apart from the probing of my eye or my hand, and before my body synchronises with it, the sensible is nothing but a vague beckoning."

Maurice Merleau-Ponty,  Phenomenology of Perception, 1945

 

 

 

"As opposed to the violence of representation (the sensational, the cliché), Bacon proposes the violence of sensation...When Bacon speaks of sensation, he means two things, both very close to the notion of  Cézanne. Negatively,  he says that the form as related to the sensation (Figure) is the opposite of the form related to an object which it is to represent (figuration). As Valéry put it, sensation is that which is transmitted directly, and avoids the detours and boredom of conveying a story. And positively, Bacon constantly says that sensation is what passes from one 'order' to another, from one 'level' to another, from one 'area' to another. This is why sensation is the master of deformations, the agent of bodily deformations...Each sensation exists a different levels, in different orders and multiple domains...This means that there are not sensations of different orders, but different orders of one and the same sensation. It is the nature of sensation to envelop a constitutive difference of level, a plurality of constituting domains....The sensation is that which is paint. And the paint, in the painting, is the body, not inasmuch as it is represented as an object, but because it is capable of evoking that particular sensation...to paint sensation, which is essentially rhythm...But in simple sensation, rhythm still depends on the Figure, it presents itself as a vibration that traverses the body without organs, it is the vector of sensation, it is that which makes sensation pass from one level to another. In contrast, in the coupling of sensation, rhythm liberates itself already, since it confronts reunites diverse levels of different sensations: it is now resonance, but it is still confused with the melodic lines, the points and counterpoints of a coupled Figure; it is the diagram of the coupled Figure...Sensation is what is painted in painting. It is the body, but not in the same sense that the body is represented as an object: rather in the sense that the body is experienced as experiencing such sensations."   

Gilles Deleuze,  Painting & Sensation; Francis Bacon:  The Logic of Sensation, Continuum, 2003.

 

 


"In pursuit of the logic of sensation, where the philosopher, Deleuze, might be said to greet and conjoin briefly with the artist, Bacon, the former posits the notion of figure against that of figuration. Where figure is conceived as the direct relation of form to sensation, figuration is the stultification of form, the operation whereby form merely stands in place of the absent object that it is supposed to represent. Bacon's bullfights display the movement of bodily deformation and fleshy zones of indiscernibility that escape the facticity of experiencing flesh....That which Deleuze wants to celebrate, alongside the creation of concepts or the production of sense, is sensation, which he gives as the meeting place between things and thought, where difference continues to shimmer. Sensation, which sets the form into motion, participates in the surging forth of all the differential elements of life despite the persistent proximity of death."


Hélène Frichot,  Bullfighting, Sex and Sensation , Colloquy  Issue Five.     

 

 

 

"He rejects illustration and narration and seeks to replace them with what he calls 'matters of fact'. These turn out to be nothing less than sensations that act directly on the nervous system...I am saying that it is the lamella that is the outcome of Bacon's efforts to avoid narrative and representation and to act directly on the nervous system. Bacon's  matter of fact'  turns out to be the lamella. Within Bacon's paintings there are, attached to bodies, flat bounded shapes. Usually they are called shadows by commentators. I want to think of them as the lamella...Not all the shadows are 'extra flat' but we can easily take the pink and mauve oozing matter to be the lamella...The violence of sensation has squeezed out a literal essence of being, the lamella, a puddle of being. To claim that the lamella appears in Bacon's work is to claim that he has taken the detachment of the gaze to its limit." 

Parveen Adams The Violence of Paint; The Emptiness of the Image,  Routledge 1996.

 

 

 

"The ways to avoid narrative or illustrative painting were by the abstract or the sensation, as  Cézanne did. The Hegelian idea of sensing and feeling was translated by Cézanne into how to paint, how to use spontaneity and temperament and instinct and the nervous system and the vital moment to create a picture. He taught the Impressionists that sensations did not lie in the play of light and colour, but in the feeling for the form of an apple.  Sensation was what was painted, not what as represented. It was what was lived while the sensation was experienced. Painting that sensation linked Cézanne to Bacon, and sensation was also the mistress of distortion. Every series of triptych by Bacon showed variants of sensation, which occasionally accumulated or coagulated... He sought the sensation that would best occupy the flesh... Above all, he tried to capture a vital rhythm in his visual sensation, as Cézanne had... He followed Cézanne in creating a sensation of endurance and clarity...The sensations of his life were the sensations of his painting." 

Andrew Sinclair, Francis Bacon: His Life & Violent Times, 1993, Crown Publishers, Inc., New York.

 

 

"The narrative is not the content of perception, but defines the structure of perception itself. Deleuze's study can help us to develop this hypothesis. It pursues the question of what the implications are of certain key expressions that Bacon has often used in interviews: 'orders of sensation' , 'levels of sensation' , 'domains of sensation' and 'moving sequences'...When we see the levels of sensation as a plurality of senses, however, we lose sight of movement in Bacon's paintings. Precisely this movement was central to Deleuze's third reading of Bacon's expression 'the levels of sensation'. Moreover, although the notions of 'sense' and 'sense organ' seem to be important for an understanding of Bacon's paintings, the differentiation of sensation according to levels does not seem to be very relevant to these paintings."

Ernst Van Alphen, Francis Bacon and the Loss of Self,  Reaktion Books, 1992.

 

 

"Deleuze offers a systematic distinction between painting as art (the figural) and illustration (the figurative) by seeing Bacon's work as essentially painterly sensation." 

Andrew Brighton,  Francis Bacon, British Artists, Tate Publishing, 2001.

 

 

"Each picture draws attention away from the narrative to the physical, to sensation, to flesh, death, dreams, the drastic rush of violent haemorrhaging, the frenetic tangents of dizziness on a fast rotating planet."  

Poul Erik Tojner,  The Mysterious Heart of Realism: Francis Bacon, 1998.

 

 

"Total abandonment to instinct, above all sexual instinct, was an ideal which Bacon maintained with astonishing vigour to the end of his days...And when he said that he 'painted to excite himself', he surely meant: to re-create certain extreme sexual sensations." 

 Michael Peppiatt,  Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma,   Westview Press, 1996.         

 

 

"Since, in his case, sensation takes precedence over ideation, and since his chief driving force is a vehement desire to grasp reality, we can say that Bacon has a frenzied, as well as effusive, approach to that reality which, above all other, he is endeavouring to translate, and that this frantic, almost panic, urge produces an emotional breaching of boundaries which introduces, into the texture of the canvas, the disturbance felt by the artist himself, so that it is less through deliberate than through what might be called affective, distancing that he achieves the sensation of presence, unobtainable otherwise either by a copy or an intellectual transcription." 

Michel Leiris,  Francis Bacon: Full face and in profile, New York, 1983.

 

 

"Concerning the simple ideas of Sensation, it is to be considered, - that whatsoever is so constituted in nature as to be able, by affecting out senses, to cause any perception in the mind, doth thereby produce in the understanding a simple idea; which, whatever be the external cause of it, when it comes to be taken notice of by our discerning faculty, it is by the mind looked on and considered there to be a real positive idea in the understanding, as such as any other whatsoever; though, perhaps, the cause of it be but a privation of the subject."

John Locke, Some further considerations concerning our Simple Ideas of Sensation,  An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, 1690.

 

 

"The anus has had a peculiarly bad press in the history of philosophy. It wouldn't surprise me if, as it were, there's never been a philosophical treatise on the anus as such. What's peculiar is that even for those philosophies which since the eighteenth century have insisted on the correspondence of knowledge and sense experience, the sense experience which is admitted is quite extraordinarily restricted. I mean you could carry out the following  experiment: if you were to read John Locke - on the relationship between the growth of sensation and its representation in and as philosophy - if you just read the book and you'd never seen a human being and then you were asked to draw the human being in question - like you read about this strange thing in Locke - now draw it - you' have a sort of strange thing. You'd have like an enormous head, almost no nose. It would have a huge mouth organ but you'd have to represent it that it's only for speaking - it's never eaten. It doesn't kind of need a lower half of the body at all. And as for the anus you could search its pages. Without anyone ever thinking the anus has ever played a role in developing human knowledge."

Mark Cousins, Damage & Object, public lecture, Architectural Association, 3rd November, 1995.

 

 

"The bombardment of new sensations is continuous when a model is present...but usually it is a new sensation of proportion or connection, often revealed by the light...I have always had a predilection for economy, where one mark will stand for twenty sensations rather than where twenty marks stand for one sensation."  

 Frank Auerbach  interview with Michael Peppiatt, Tate, Issue 14, Spring 1998.

 

 

"Not illustration of reality but to catch images which are a concentration of reality and a shorthand of sensation."    

Francis Bacon to Melvyn Bragg, The South Bank Show, 1985.

   

 

"How can I draw one more veil away from life and present what is called the living sensation more nearly on the nervous system and more violently...There was a very interesting thing that Valéry said about modern art, and it's very true. He said that modern artists want the grin without the cat and by that he meant that they want the sensation without the boredom of conveyance."  

Francis Bacon to Daniel Farson,  The Art Game, 27 August, 1958.

 

 


"I have nothing but sensation (Empfindung) and representation (Vorstellung). Therefore I cannot think these as having arisen from the contents of representation. All those cosmogonies etc. are deduced from the data received by the senses. We cannot think anything that is not sensation and representation. Therefore no pure existence of time, space, world, if without that which senses and represents. I cannot represent non-being (Nichtsein). That which is (Das Seiende), is sensation and representation."  

Friedrich Nietzsche,  Time-Atom Theory: Nachgelassene Fragmente,  Early 1873.

 

 

"Isn't it that one wants a thing to be as factual  as possible and at the same time as deeply suggestive or deeply unlocking of areas of sensation other than simple illustration of the object that you set out to do? A non-illustrational form works first upon sensation and then slowly leaks back into the fact....I work in a kind of haze of sensations and feelings and ideas that come to me and that I try to crystallize..."  

Francis Bacon,  The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon,  David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 1987.

 

 

"The essence of sensation would then consist in gradually sensing and measuring such temporal figures with more and more refinement; representation constructs them as something coexistent and then establishes the development of the world on the basis of this coexistence: pure translation into another language, into the language of becoming."  

 Friedrich Nietzsche, Note Books, 1873.

 

 

"For me realism is an attempt to capture appearance with all the sensations which that particular appearance has suggested to me."   

Francis Bacon in a letter to Michel Leiris.

 

 

"If I focus my eyes on an open area, allowing the image I wish to record to steal in through the corner of my eye, I have the sensation of seeing in depth."   

Isabel Lambert, Autobiographical Notes, March 1968.

 

 

"Modern man conceives of reality as the series of sensations and ideas that occur in the consciousness of each individual."  

 The late David Sylvester, Francis  Bacon scholar.

 

 

 

                                                                                                                           

                                                      

                                                           Sensation as The Antithesis of Logic

 

 

Francis Bacon was described by a crass cunt critic as:  "...a cheap sensationalist..."  Bacon was not a 'sensationalist' but a Sensationist.  Bacon said he wanted to:  "...open up the valves of sensation."   Bacon  was not an Expressionist.  Bacon had nothing to express only something to sensation.  Bacon, like Degas, Monet, Cezanne, Jawlensky, Nolde was a Sensationist.  Bacon let leak splattering spunked Sensationism.  Authentic Sensationist art is not to be confused with the spin Sensationalist stuff of our spiv Saatchi shit.

Sensationism stems from the subconscious sea slick oil of auto-alien primordial intense instincts dug directly from the rhythms of the body's musical memory traces, from the nervous system.  Sensationism seeks sow serve sever the nailed nervous system sensation via violet visceral vivacious violence aiming alterity at an agnoisse acidic abject alien arbitrary primal paint punctures. 

Sensationist art grates on the nerves, sends shivers down the spine, through the nailing of tense and intense images on to the nervous system.  Why is it that  'irrational' or 'arbitrary' brush marks of anti-illustrational paint have such a psychic-physically nailing visceral assault on the spine, body, nervous system - while illustrational painting (Freud) and pattern making (Pollock) remains weak, watery without real body?  Michel Conil Lacoste, art critic of Le Monde, reported  as he walked around Bacon's show at the Grand Palais: "It's like a punch in the face."   Sensationism sews skews slithers slivers slurps seeps seeks soaks swells skin sight sighing.

Titian, Velasquez, Rembrandt, Fragonard, Turner, Sargent, Sickert, Monet, Van Gogh, Cezanne, Degas, Corinth, Nolde, Jawlensky, Soutine, Bacon, Auerbach, Tye, Verney-Elliott initiate non-illustrational imagery as sensationism-for-itself being-for-itself where the paint and the clay are sensation-in-itself as being-for-itself as image-for-itself. Abstract Art has no initiated image and so remains as an abstract sensation-for-itself without being-image-for-itself  and so abstract art remains removed from being altogether for abstract art has no being to be image.  Abstract Art does not exist. Conceptual Art  does not exist. Contemporary Art does not exist.

The School of Francis Bacon initiates anti-illustrational alien artists seduced by subconscious  Sensationism  to open up the visceral valves of sensation and to make a direct assault upon the  nailed nervous system.  Abject Agnoisse Alien  Art Froths Form From Body Being Beyond the Pleasure Principle, Beyond the Death Drive to The Dripping Drool of The Leaking Lamella slurp slop sensationism. 

Art is Alien. Alien Art aspires to the agnoisse Abject-Sublime sludge sensation of the acidic Alien Condition cracked open oozed outside of the Being Human.

                                                  Spine Sliding Sensations

                                                               Degas, Duchamp, Bacon

 

                                                                                                                                                                        

                                                                                                                                                                       Nude Descending a Staircase No. 2  1912  

 

 

                                                                                                                    

                                                                                        After the Bath, Woman Drying Herself  1895

                                                

 

                                                                                                                    

                                                                                                                            Central Panel of Three Studies for a Crucifixion 1962        

 

                    

 

"Degas used the charcoal and the pastel as though they were abrasive tools, their rough hatching creating at atmosphere of friction around the body which is twisted into an unlikely, if not ungraceful position, caught between agony and ecstasy."      

Jean Sutherland Boggs.

 

        

"I love Degas. I think his pastels are among the greatest things ever made. I think they're far greater than his paintings. Some of the paintings are nothing in comparison, it's very curious...The sensation doesn't come straight out at you; it slides slowly and gently through the gaps... Another thing is, when you talk of Degas, the very great Degas are the pastels, and don't forget that in his pastels he always striates the form with these lines which are drawn through the image and in a certain sense both intensify and diversify its reality. I always think that the interesting thing about Degas is the way he made lines through the body: you could say that he shuttered the body, in a way, shuttered the image and then he put an enormous amount of colour through these lines. And having shuttered the form, he created intensity by putting this colour through the flesh."

Francis Bacon on Edgar Degas to Michael Peppiatt and David Sylvester.

 

 

"As early as 1949, an English critic, Neville Wallis, commented on the relationship between Bacon and Duchamp: 'Brooding over these pictures', he wrote, I became aware of the affinity with Marcel Duchamp's sensational paintings on glass...In Bacon's canvases, the indication of a glass screen enclosing his silently shrieking figures seems to symbolise the frustration of the individual who can see, but cannot reach or affect the awful prospect before him.' (The Observer, 20 November, 1949)..."

Andrea Rose, XLV Venice Biennale, Figurabile, Francis Bacon, Electa, Museo Correr, 1993.

 

 

"Most of Duchamp is figurative, but I think he made sort of symbols of the figurative. And he made, in a sense, a sort of myth of the twentieth century, but in terms of making a shorthand of figuration."

Francis Bacon,  The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon,  David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 1987.

 

 

"The levels of sensation are like a series of freeze-frames, snapshots of movement, which together synthetically recompose the movement in all its continuity, velocity and violence: as in synthetic Cubism, in Futurism, in Duchamp's Nude. And it is true that  Bacon was fascinated by Muybridge's  decompositions of movement, and used them as material."

Francis Bacon: Logique de la sensation, Gilles Deleuze, 1981.

 

 

"As in his comments on Duchamp's famous 'Nude Descending a Staircase', Bacon tried to make his beings more dramatic in their stepping out, while Duchamp wanted to keep movement central.  He did not want to make something mechanistic, a mere motor moving downstairs. He tried to cancel out all implications. 'He was the first of this century to attempt that. Seurat did the same thing - as they in America, to keep it cool.'...   Bacon thought that Duchamp had successfully changed the technique of art by not being avant-garde and trying to create a new art.  He made symbols of the figurative, 'a sort of myth of the twentieth century'.  Although Bacon preferred Duchamp's philosophy to his individual works, I saw him at that retrospective exhibition studying each picture with the intensity of a kestrel hovering hovering over a field mouse." 

Andrew Sinclair, Francis Bacon: His Life & Violent Times, Crown Publishers, 1993.

 

                                                                                                

                                                                                

                                                     

                                                            Peppiatt & Bacon on Sensation

 

 

MP: "But I mean that there is the person's appearance, and then there are all sorts of sensations about that particular person."

FB: "I don't know how much it's a question of sensation about the other person. It's the sensation within yourself. It's to do with the shock of two completely unillustrational things which come together and make an appearance...One needs the specific images to unlock the deeper sensations, and the mystery of accident and intuition to create the particular.  Now I want to do portraits more than anything else, because they can be done in a way outside illustration."   

                                                                 

                                                                             

                                                                                                                                            Isabel Rawsthorne,  Francis  Bacon,  Michel  Leiris

 

                                                                                            Sylvester & Bacon on Sensation

 

          "I work in a kind of haze of sensations and feelings and ideas that come to me and I try to crystallize...it's not so much the painting that excites me as that the painting unlocks all kinds of valves of sensation within me which returns me to life more violently....Certainly one is more relaxed when the image that one has within one's sensations - you see, there is a kind of sensational image within the very, you could say, structure of your being, which is not to do with a mental image - when that image, through accident, begins to form... In working you are really following this kind of cloud of sensation in your- self....Isn't it that one wants a thing to be as factual as possible and at the same time as deeply suggestive or deeply unlocking of areas of sensation other than simple illustration of the object that you set out to do?... An illustrational form tells you through the intelligence immediately what the form is about, whereas a non-illustrational form works first upon sensation and then slowly leaks back into the fact."  

        "I believe that realism has to be re-invented. It has to be continuously re-invented. In one of his letters Van Gogh speaks of the need to make changes in reality, which become lies that are truer than the literal truth.  This is the only possible way the painter can bring back the intensity of the reality which he is trying to capture.  I believe that reality in art is something profoundly artificial and that it has to be recreated.  Otherwise it will be just an illustration of something  -  which will be very second-hand......Of course one does put in such things as ears and eyes. But then one would like to put them in as irrationally as possible. And the only reason for this irrationality is that, if it does come about, it brings the force of the image over very much more strongly than if one just sat down and illustrated the appearance.....We can't go on and on reproducing the Renaissance, or nineteenth century art, or anything else. You want something new. Not an illustrative realism but a realism that comes about through a real invention of a new way to lock reality into something completely arbitrary". 

Francis Bacon, The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames and Hudson: 1987.        

                                                                                     

 

                                                          The School of Francis Bacon

 

                                                                                                         

                                                                                                                              Timothy Behrens, Lucian Freud, Francis Bacon, Frank Auerbach, Michael Andrews. 

 

 

"Bacon has been a model of intellectual freedom and stylistic audacity to the whole School of London."

Michael Peppiatt,  Could There Be a School of London?,  Art International, Autumn, 1987.

"

 

"When it comes down to it, I' m not sure that that the word 'school' means anything more than artists with a very general similar interest."

Michael Peppiatt on The School of London,  Francis Bacon: Reality Conveyed by a lie, Art International, Autumn, 1987.

 

 

"The realist movement no longer needs to fight with the others; it already exists, it must show itself as something distinct, there must be a salon of realists." 

Edgar Degas letter to James Tissot in 1874.

 

 

"When Kitaj first coined 'School of London', he meant no single orthodoxy, and certainly not simply these six or seven planets clustered about Bacon's black sun."

Timothy Hyman,  Mapping London's Other Landscape, Art International, Autumn, 1987.

 

 

"My idea would be that one might finally establish a studio and then bequeath it to posterity for a successor to live in. I do not know if I am expressing myself clearly enough, but in other words, we are engaged in work on art, on projects that are not for our own times alone but can be continued by others."

Vincent van Gogh, Letter 538.

 

 

"To me it's not a 'school' at all. I mean, I think perhaps the Americans had a school of Abstract Expressionism, but the last real school was the Impressionists, when there were a number of people attempting to do, not the same thing, but who were interested in the same aspects of colour and way of conveying things...I think the people in the School of London would have always been figurative. I don't think I had any influence at all."

Francis Bacon on The School of London,  Francis Bacon: Reality Conveyed by a lie, Art International, Autumn, 1987.

 

 

"I think it would be more exciting to be one of a number of artists working together, and to be able to exchange...I think it would be terrible nice to have someone to talk to. Today there is absolutely nobody to talk to...But I think artists can in fact help one another. They can clarify the situation to one another....I've always hoped to find another painter I could really talk to - somebody whose qualities and sensibility I'd really believe in - who really tore my things to bits and whose judgement  I could actually believe in."

Francis Bacon,  The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson,  1987.

 

 

"Francis Bacon was sui generis. He didn't even have precursors in the Borgesian sense of the word - meaning precursors who were "created" by him, whose work is amended and endowed with previously unperceived meaning because of what it has inadvertently engendered. Nor did Bacon have successors. There was no school of Bacon. He fomented no fashion, suffered no disciples, occasioned no print other than his own, went against the grain. He was a figurative dissenter at the height of his powers during the hegemony of abstraction (which he regarded, scornfully, as mere pattern-making). He was just about inimitable."

Jonathan Meades, New Statesman, February 6, 1998.

 

 

"I know that teaching is one of the methods by which many artists survive, but how can you teach? In a period when there is no tradition, there is nothing to teach. You can teach your own attitude. The only thing that I can understand for art schools would be for them to have a few extremely intelligent people whom the people who are striving to be artists of some kind can come and discuss their problems with.  Otherwise there is nothing to teach at all. But many people have to teach because they can't make the money out of their work. In my own case, even when I could earn no money, I never taught. Except that once a friend went to the West Indies and he asked me to take his job for three months at the Royal College of Art, which I did. It's true to say that I did it very badly. I didn't often go there; there was nothing I could teach them whatsoever."

Francis Bacon to David Sylvester, 1975, Looking Back at Francis Bacon,  David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 2000.

 

 

"Originality must involve more than breaking rules; its deformations must allow the possibility of reformation. The litmus test of exemplarity, namely succession, is not as unified or simple a Kant's presentation of it makes it appear. Roughly, on the one hand, Kant equates exemplarity, and hence succession,  with providing new ways of making sense: Succession which relates itself to a precedent, not imitation, is the correct expression for the influence which is the product of an exemplary originator can have on others; which means the same as this: to create from the same sources out of which the former himself created, and to learn from one's predecessor only the way to produce in such creation oneself.  An example of succession in this sense would be the founding of a new 'school' of painting or poetry. The exemplary work would provide possibilities, in the plural, that were not previously available; and while succeeding works may alter what what we conceive those possibilities to be, it would remain the case that the 'original' exemplary work was the 'origin' with respect to which succeeding works had their sense."

J.M. Bernstein, The Fate of Art: Aesthetic Alienation from Kant to Derrida and Adorno,  Polity Press, 1992.

 

                                                             
                                                                                                                                                     

                                                                                                        Bacon working on Three Studies for a Portrait of John Edwards 1984 

 

 

'Abstract Art',  'Conceptual Art', 'Contemporary Art' do not exist because such conscious constructs are always already obnoxious oxymorons propagated as political programmes, puerile products of 'political correctness'  and are always already alien to thrown authentic alien art: The School of Francis Bacon invites initiates intense anarchic angoisse awe atta alien artists as sew serving sublime  Sensationism so sowing  an abject Aletheia authentic alien aesthetics orbiting outside conscious conceptual constructs.

The thrown shot Sensationist art of vivacious Velázquez, Rembrandt, Titian, Fragonard, Turner, Goya, Van Gogh, Cézanne, Manet, Degas, Cassatt, Monet, Corinth, Soutine, Picasso, Nolde, Jawlensky, Gaudier-Brzeska, Bacon, Gormely, Alien is intestine instinctual  Sensationism activating arbitrary accidents: non-narrative, non-conceptual, non-contemporary created  via voluptuous  violent intensity inking instinctual subconscious slime slurp sensation seeping froth form from the thrown nailed nervous system and also nailing the thrown nervous system:  Sensationist art activates intense instinctual images of oozed agnoisse Alien alteric aroma. 

Bacon said to Michael Peppiatt: "What I do feel is that figuration - painting - will take on tremendous vitality once again, now that we've been through that very depressing , decorative period of abstraction. Not only in England, but anywhere. I think it will come about."  (Francis Bacon: Reality Conveyed by a lie,  Art International,  Autumn 1987).

Hearing Heidegger sedately says Sensationing - unlike Thinking - seeps spilt sowing:

1) Sensationing brings us knowledge as do the sciences.

2) Sensationing produces usable practical wisdom.

3) Sensationing solves cosmic riddles.

4) Sensationing endows us directly with the power to act.

So seeping shuddering shimmering Sensationing swallows up under the Ground for Sensationing is never Grounded floating free from Foundation free from Logic free from Concept free from Thinking thrown through thrusted Thingness opening out Otherness.

Ludwig Wittgenstein wrote Tractatus Logico Philosophicus as a Non-Sense of Lie-Logic.  Wittgenstein wrote wittingly: “The right method of philosophy would be this. To say nothing except what can be said."   Except that nothing can be said only sensationed and nothing is said in the Tractatus.  Wittgenstein  wriggles: "My propositions are elucidatory in this way he who understands me finally recognises them as senseless...Where one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent."   

The trash Tractatus silences Sensationism and does not Speak or Sensation seeing Logic as Nonsensical for Wittgenstein's sentences seep no known Sensationism so sowing language without leakage, sentences without spillages words without waste. Where one cannot speak, thereof one must be sensation. The Tractatus touts totalising positivistic propositions so sensationing nothing negating surplus spillage slurp slime stuff such as an alluring angoisse luminous leaked lamella. The world is not 'the totality of facts', but a sea of sensations a sein of sensations a shine of sensations.

Wittgenstein shows us that the puerile propositions of the turgid Tractatus are as pure non-sensationist where welded leaden Logic is inert left locked-in-its-nothingness negating the thrown stagnant smelliness sown seeping sensational slipping slime states. For filtered locked Logic does not leak, linger, shimmer, shudder, slip, spill, slush, sludge, soak, stink, sow, so left lacking a Shining as a Sensationism scent so lost lie 'Logic' cannot have a 'Logic of Sensationism' for Sensation splatters spurts shines shimmers shudders oozed outside locked 'Logic' which without wetness cannot Leak as an alien Anxiety.  Heidegger hears: "From ancient times the theory of thought has been called 'logic.' But if, now, thinking is ambiguous in its relation to being -  as offering both a horizon and an organon - does not what we call 'logic' also remain ambiguous, according to the view under discussion? Does not 'logic,' then, as organon and as an interpretative horizon of being, become completely questionable?" (Pathmarks).

Logic does not Smell, Logic does not Smaze, Logic does not Sweat, Logic does not Spunk, Logic does not Sponge, Logic does not Squelch, Logic does not Shit, Logic does not Shine, Logic does not Curdle, Logic does not Coagulate, Logic does not Glisten, Logic does not Drool, Logic does not Drip, Logic does not Leak: Logic has no Leakic. Logic does not Exist. Logic knows nothing of The Nothing. The Sensation of The Nothing leaks outside the nothing of Logic. Nietzsche on Nihilism contra Logic: "Nihilism doe snot only contemplate the 'in vain!' nor is it merely the belief that everything deserves to perish: one helps to destroy. - This is, if you will, illogical; but the nihilist does not believe that one needs to be logical." (Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power). Nihilism negates Logic. Sensation severs Logic. Logic is not: slimy, sticky, scabby, soggy, slithery, smelly, spunky, oozy, oily, greasy, gooey, gluey, dank, damp. 

Logic has no Sensation. Logic has no Anxiety. Logic has no Dread. Logic has no Boredom. Logic has no Nothing.  Being has no Logic.

Maurice Merleau-Ponty’s thin thesis that a sensation must form some sort of 'picture' in order to have 'significance',  -  and that a 'pure sensation' correspondence to 'nothing in our experience'   -  is insane and absolutely absurd and utterly untrue and non-sense since sown sensation slits sight splits seeing punctures perception.  Sensation is pure experience: 'signification' is always already added after the Event of pure Sensation: only social and psychic conditioning sutures significance to sensation but robs it of its brute and pure sensationistic impact: when an infant smells, sees and even eats its own excrement none of its seven senses tell 'it' that it is supposedly repellent and repugnant. Through cultural signification and suturing, the smell sensation of Chanel No.5 is smelt as  'acceptable' and 'aesthetic' and the smell sensation of shit is smelt as 'unacceptable' and 'unaesthetic': our social-psychic conditioning could also reverse these two smell sensations where scent becomes shit and shit becomes scent but the sensations still remain the same. What if a Rose smelt like a Shit; would we still sniff it? What if a Shit smelt like a Rose; would we then sniff it? What is the sight of smell the smell of sight?

 While sensations are necessarily non-cognitive on the conscious plane  - and cannot be 'known'  -  spilt sown sensations can be shown thrown flown forth from the thirsty subconscious swamp stratum and the thrown seventh sense which will always already shine shimmer oozed outside consciousness and alien body of being being bled both from within and without outside thought: sensations cannot be know only thrown for Being is in fact floating flooding  bled Beingsensation: one does not 'know' sensation one 'throws' and 'retrieves' sensation through fort-da-fluxing. There is no 'Question of the Meaning of Being' but only the 'Sensationing of Being as Beingsensation' where the sewer subconscious 'alien body' has a direct drooling atta access to a 'pure realm' of sensation free from conceptual consciousness.  

Being has Sensation not Meaning.  Being is not a Thing of Thought but a Sensation of Throwness.  Being has no Intellect. Being has no Consciousness. Being is Alien to Thought. Being is Sensation. Being is Alien. Beingaliensensation: The Life of the Alien. The Alien has Landed. The Alien is About.

The question "What calls for sensationing" asks for what wants to be sensationed about in the pre-eminent sense: it does not just give us sensationing to sensation about, nor only itself, but it first gives sensation and sensationing to us, it entrusts sensation to us as our essential destiny, and thus first joins and appropriates us to sensation as a clearing to being towards sensataion as Beingsensation.

Our Thinking blocks the brute experiences of pure pulsating Sensationing: thought severs pure sensation, thought negates pure sensation.  René Descartes never stated: "I think, therefore I am"  but sensationed: "I stink, therefore I am."   I see, therefore I am. I smell, therefore I am. I sensation, therefore I am. Has not all philosophy been a misunderstanding of sensation?  We have had a Philosophy of Spirit so why not a Philosophy of Spunk?

The School of Francis Bacon invites initiates alien artists to throw sow seeping Sensationist awe awakening an alien ather atta attack alteric art.

 

                                                                                                                                 Headless Hegel: Beheading Being

                                                                         

                                                                                                                       

                                                                                                             The Jubilate Jouissance sublime shudder of Decapitated Dasein

 

 

"Half its fucking head's gone!"

Victor Salva, Jeepers Creepers II (2003).

 

 

"The truth of this world is death."

Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Voyage au bout de la nuit, 1932.

 

 

"You're either with us or you're with the terrorists."

President George W. Bush, Post 9/11 statement.

 

 

"I feel a sort of violence spreading from male bodies at all places of the planet I’ve been…"

Klaus Theweleit, The Bomb's Womb and the Genders of War.

 

 

"Now I should have the chance to be a decent human being, for I'm standing eye to eye with death."

Ludwig Wittgenstein, 1914, on World War One.

 

 

"I open up an access to a brute Being with which I would not be in the subject-and-object relation."

Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The Intertwining and The Chiasm.

 

n thunders... limbs fly in all directions... one can hear the groans of victims and the howling of those performing the sacrifice... it's Humanity in search of happiness.

"The shock of Bacon’s work lies not in its dismemberments but in the discovery of our embodied sociality."

Jennifer Dyer, Paint and Suffering: Series and Community in Francis Bacon's Paintings, University of Amsterdam, Animus. .

 

 

"...in one of the most remarkable passages of his Aesthetics, Hegel defined the task of art as the appropriation of the alien..."

Theodor W. Adorno, Aesthetic Theory,  The Athlone Press, 1997.

 

 

"Terror is literature that rejects literary commonplace and convention in an attempt to accede to a pure, authentic expression ...Terrorist writers are in fact endlessly preoccupied with language, forever trying to bypass it, or rid it of its impurities."

 Michael Syrotinski, Noncoincidence: Blanchot Reading Paulhan, The Place of Maurice Blanchot, Yale French Studies, 1998.

 

 

"Since Plato, it is the old philosophical injunction: to learn to live is to learn to die. Less and less, I have not learned to accept death. I remain uneducable about the wisdom of learning to die."

Jacques Derrida,  Le Monde interview, August, 2004.

 

 

"To speak is always to speak from out of this interval between speech and radical violence, separating them, but maintaining each of them in a relation of vicissitude. - From which we must conclude that if the relation of man placed in the presence of man is terrible, it is because it is because it confines us within this alternative: either speak of kill, and because, in this alternative, speech is no less grave than death, with which it is conjoined as its reverse side."

Maurice Blanchot, Plural Speech; The Infinite Conversation, 1969.

 

 

"We all need to be aware of the potential disaster which stalks us every moment of the day...Well, of course,  we are meat, we are potential carcasses.  If I go into a butcher's shop I always think it's surprising that I wasn't there instead of the animal... Death can be life-enhancing." 

Francis Bacon,  Francis Bacon, John Russell, Thames and Hudson, 1971.

          

 

"But if I stop doing what I'm doing, it will be like another murder. That's the real trauma, perhaps, the thought of going through what happened to Theo van Gogh again. We told each other we would make part two, and the thing that keeps me going is the thought, 'I have to do it, I have to do it, I have to do it.'..."

Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Danger woman, The Gaurdian, Tuesday May 17, 2005.

 

 

"Maybe it's treacherous old age coming on, threatening the worst. Not much music left inside us for life to dance to. Our youth has gone to the ends of the earth to die in the silence of the truth. And where, I ask you, can a man escape to, when he hasn't enough madness left inside him? The truth is an endless death agony. The truth is death. You have to choose: death or lies. I've never been able to kill myself."

Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Voyage au bout de la nuit, 1932.

 

 

"Jacques Dupin says to us: 'There is, there always was, above all, for Giacometti, an instinct of cruelty, a need for destruction that strictly conditions his creative activity. From his earliest childhood the obsession with sexual murder provokes and governs certain imaginary representations... He has a passion for war stories. The spectacle of violence fascinates and terrifies him.'  Whence the experience he had of presence. It is out of reach. One kills a man, one does violence to him; this has happened to all of us, either in act, or in speech, or as the result of an indifferent will; but presence always escapes the power that does violence...To the experience of violence there corresponds the evidence of the presence that escapes it. And the attack of violence has become, for Giacometti, the gesture of the former-deformer, the creator-destroyer...Thus, each time, we receive from Giacometti this double discovery that is each time, it is true, immediately lost: only man would be present to us, only he is alien to us."

Maurice Blanchot, Traces, Editions Gallimard 1971, Stanford University Press, 1997.

 

 

"The damage which can be created by a virtuous person is almost by definition far greater than the person who wishes to murder because that wish is easily put in to effect and easily satisfied....the introduction of virtue means that moment of satisfaction will never come because the satisfaction belongs to the object of duty which is never yet complete, never fully discharged...the instructive, the regularised maintain themselves this side of the law but what would happen if a type of virtuous citizen arose characterised by all the same predicates... characterised by all the same attributes, as the law abiding citizen in the service of evil? This is what Kant calls radical evil. The person who commits radical evil is far from the person who has a sense of transgressing the law. The person who commits radical evil is one whose whole intention, whose whole bearing is to obey the law. Who pursues evil but as it were in the form of absolute morality...who pursues it with the sense always of the difficulty of performing his duty...this is not someone who is going to go out and murder but this is clearly somebody who can do a lot worse...We find this nightmare of Kant's emerging in the writings of Hannah Arendt in the attempt to grasp what it is or who is the figure of that's embodied in Adolf Eichmann....how often through out the trial Eichmann would say 'I have never once in my life ever been discourteous to a Jew'...and he was right - the model of civility...this was the man who was sickened by the thought of violence..." 

Mark Cousins, Radical Evil, public lecture, Architectural Association, London, 8 March 1996, London. 

 

 

"As we dug ourselves in we found them in layers stacked one upon the top of another. One company after another had been shoved into the drum fire and steadily annihilated. The corpses were covered with the masses of soil turned up by the shells, and the next company advanced in the place of the fallen....The sunken road and the ground behind were full of German dead; the ground in front, of English. Arms, legs, and heads stuck out stark above the lips of the craters. In front of our miserable defences there were torn-off limbs and corpses over many of which cloaks and ground sheets had been thrown to hide the fixed stare of their distorted features. In spite of the heat no one thought for a moment of covering them with soil...For I cannot too often repeat, a battle was no longer an episode that spent itself in blood and fire; it was a condition of things that dug itself in remorselessly week after week and even month after month. What was a man's life in this wilderness whose vapour was laden with, the stench of thousands upon thousands of decaying bodies? Death lay in ambush for each one in every shell hole, merciless, and making one merciless in turn...We were asked to believe that the war had now ended. We laughed  -  for we were the war."

Ernst Jünger, The Storm of Steel: From the Diary of a German Storm Troop Officer on the Western Front. Chatto & Windus, 1929.

 

 

"How the choleric Caravaggio likes lighting up the theatrical faces a giorno! To say he loves severed heads is putting it mildly; he adores them, worships them. He deserves a prize for gruesomeness with his series of waxwork horrors: heroic Judith recoiling from a Holofernes whose gaping maw emits a skein of stiff red wool; Isaac, innocent as Bluebeard, shrieking in the grip of an Abraham deaf and blind to the finger of the Angel as it points in vain to the providential ram...Nor does the vagabond Caravaggio, when depicting dread Goliath's head in David's dismayed hands, shrink from giving the giant his own features, modeled on a criminals mask hired from the commedia del l' art's prop department...In a word, there's nothing like a good beheading for showing the bad taste of an artist fretting over his impotence, or perhaps over the impotence of art. "

Julia Kristeva, A Beheading; Possessions: A Novel, Columbia University Press 1996.

 

 

"When I speak I always exercise a relation of force [puissance]. I belong, whether or not I know it, to a net work of powers of which I make use, struggling against the force that that asserts itself against me. All speech is violence... Language is the undertaking through which violence agrees not to be open, but secret, agrees to forgo spending itself in a brutal action in order to reserve itself for more powerful mastery."

Maurice Blanchot,  Commnet découvir l'obscur, 1959.

 

 

"But that an accident as such, detached from what circumscribes it, what is bound and is actual only in its context with others, should attain an existence of its own and a separate freedom - this is the tremendous  power [Macht] of the negative; it is energy of [Geist's] thought, or the pure 'I' [of Geist]. Death, if that is what we want to call this non-actuality, is of all things most dreadful, and to hold fast what is dead requires the greatest strength. Lacking strength, Beauty [Schönheit] hates the Understanding [Verstand]  for asking of her what it cannot do.  But the life of Geist is not the life that shrinks from death and keeps itself untouched by devastation, but rather the life that endures and maintains itself in it. It wins its truth only when, in absolute dismemberment [Zerrissenheit], it finds itself. It is this power, not as something positive, that closes its eyes to the negative, as when we say of something that it is nothing or is false, and then having done with it, turn away and pass to something else; on the contrary, Spirit is this power only by looking  the negative in the face, and tarrying with it. This tarrying with the negative is the magical power [Zauberkraft] that converts it into being.  This power is identical with what we earlier called the Subject [i.e., Geist], which by giving determinateness an existence in its own element superseded abstract immediacy, i.e. the immediacy which is merely general, and thus is authentic substance: that being or immediacy whose mediation is not outside of it but which is mediation itself."

G.W.F. Hegel,  Phenomenology of Spirit  1807.

 

 

"Impossible necessary death: why do these words - and the experience to which they refer (the inexperience) - escape comprehension. Why this collision of mutually exclusive terms?...Yes, let us remember the earliest Hegel. He too, even prior to his 'early' philosophy, considered that the two deaths were indissociable, and that only the act of confronting death - not merely of facing it or of exposing oneself to its danger, but of entering into its space, of undergoing it as infinite death and also as mere death, 'natural death' could found the sovereignty of masterhood: the mind and its prerogatives. the result was perhaps, absurdly, that the experience which initiates the movement of the dialectic - the experience which none experiences, the experience of death - stopped it right away, and that the entire subsequent process retained a sort of memory of this halt, as if of an aporia which always has till to be accounted for...It remains, however, that if death, murder, suicide are put to work, and if death loses its sting by becoming  powerless power and then negativity, there is, each time one advances with the help of possible death, the necessity not to advance any further, nor to approach the death without expression, the death without any name, the death outside the concept - impossibility itself."

Maurice Blanchot, The Writing of the Disaster, University of Nebraska Press, 1995.

 

 

"When someone is subjected to torture, something external impinges and breaks down the individual's protective shield, which leaves the person in a helpless state with the result that, internal and external registers get confused. Having survived, the person is left with a residue of something excessive that is too much to bear, something intolerable that disrupts the process of getting through the day - linear time - and overburdens the signifying apparatus. The disruption of the signifying apparatus, a defect in signification, is the point at which anguish interrupts and the subject encounters the real which engenders non-sense. The object (a) is implicated in a too much and produces anguishing affects due to a lack of signification... Following torture there are moments when it is difficult to think...The effect of torture is a breaking down of thought, and an inability to put into words what transpired. When asked to speak of the torture in order to establish the facts of the case, the person is confronted with an impossible situation. Something of the experience cannot be absorbed into any symbolic framework but at the same time the individual is haunted by images of what happened. What is remembered are surrounding events, often apparently arbitrary details, which offer some kind of way to frame the pain for even if the event is remembered in detail, the hole remains."

Eric Harper, Torture - a presence without an absence, The Symptom, Issue 4, Spring 2003.

 

 

"I have really enjoyed myself writing about these different works of art, notably, on representations of decapitation, and I believe that the novel as genre, especially thriller which is an open genre and completely renewable allows for this type of digression in writing. But they have severely criticized me for it and told me that the book was too intellectual, very brainy and that the reader who wanted to know how the crime was being developed and the murder had to suffer by having had to wait. That was the malevolent reaction of those who have known me as an intellectual and who did not like the fact that I was going to write novels... Some think that these works are scandal-oriented, others think that they rejoice in ugliness, yes, certainly there are elements of such orientations in them, but, on the other hand, the existence of these works is also a research  -  often in a very specific manner  -  on the anticipation of difficulty of living. And Art can play an important role here since it can contribute to a certain creative assumption of such a difficulty.  Nevertheless, I personally remain a bit sceptical of a certain drift or tendency of contemporary art to content itself with such, so I believe, feeble appropriations of these traumatic states. We remain here at the level of the statement of the clinical cases with an almost documentary style photography of these cases wherein the investment and the effort made in the exploration of new forms or new thoughts remains less visible. So, it is something regrettable which every so often leaves me with the impression that when I visit museums or read certain art books, I am looking into psychoanalytic or even psychiatric archives. But, perhaps this is an indispensable experience."

Julia Kristeva,  An Interview with Julia Kristeva, by Nina Zivancevici,  Paris, March-April 2001.

 

 

"In all the motor accidents I've seen, people strewn across the road, the first thing you think of is the strange beauty - the vision of it, before you think of trying to do anything. It's to do with the unusualness of it. I once saw a bad car accident on a large road, and the bodies were strewn about with broken glass from the car, and the blood and various possessions, and it was in fact very beautiful. I think the beauty in it is terribly elusive, but it just happened to be in the disposition of the bodies, the way they lay and the blood, and perhaps it was also because it was not a thing one was used to seeing...It was midday, when the sun was very strong and on a white road."

Francis Bacon, Remarks from an Interview with Peter Beard,  Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York,  1976.

 

 

"When my eyes flee from the now to the past, they always find the same: fragments and limbs and dreadful accidents - but no human beings. The now and the past on earth - alas, my friends, that is what I find most unendurable; and I should not know how to live if I were not also a seer of that which must come."

Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra, 1891.

 

 

 

"Drift-net fishing through the Internet's deeps brings up numerous examples of decapitation fetishism, a queasy mix of necro-porn, splatter movie, and upchuck humor guaranteed to appall even the most politically incorrect post-feminists. One needn't be a born-again Dworkinite, brandishing Intercourse like a Gideon bible, to get creeped out while browsing The Axe & Guillotine website ("The Best in Beheading"), Necromancer's website ("Behead and Debreast"), Mickey Jay's website ("Beheading"), Scanbastard's website ("Beheading"), Mocktoad Manipulations ("Beheading"), or any of the scores of sites that cater to snuff fetishism, a twisted little limb on the family tree of pathological sexuality, at the juncture of S&M and necrophilia."

Mark Dery, Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Severed Head, Cabinet Magazine, Issue 10 Spring 2003.

 

 

 

"We have seldom attempted to interpret individual mythological figures. Yet it is natural to do so in the case of the terrifying cut-off head of the Medusa. Cutting off the head = castration. Horror at the Medusa is also horror at castration, which is also connected to the gaze.  The Medusa's gaze turns us rigid with horror, turns the onlooker into stone.  It has the same lineage as the castration-complex and results in the same transformation of affect!  For rigidification signifies erection, that is, in the original situation, the compensation for the onlooker. He still has a penis and is assured of this by becoming stiff."

 Sigmund Freud, Das Medusenhaupt, Gesammelte Werke, 1922.

 

 

 

"Writing is per se already (it is still) violence: the rupture there is in each fragment, the break, the splitting, the tearing of the shred - acute singularity, steely point. And yet this combat is, for patience, debate. The name wears away, the fragment fragments, erodes."

Maurice Blanchot, The Writing of The Disaster, University of Nebraska Press, 1995.

 

 

 

"Daily I must call upon the vanished godhead. When I think of great men in great times, and how they spread holy fire on all sides and transformed everything that was defunct, everything wooden, all the straw of the world into flames, so that it soared heavenward with them;  and when I think of me, of how often I drift about like a flickering little lamp begging for a drop of oil so that I can shine a bit longer through the night - behold! a wondrous shudder passes through all my limbs, and softly I say to myself a terrifying word: the living dead!"

Johann Christian Friedrich Hölderin (770 - 1843).

 

 

 

"Jouissance alone makes the abject as such exist. One does not know it, one does not desire it, one reveals in it. Violently and with anguish. A passion. And, as in jouissance, where the object of desire, known as object a, bursts with the shattered mirror where the ego gives up its image in order to look at oneself in the Other, there is neither objective nor objectal in the subject. It is simply a boundary, a repulsive gift that the Other...allows to fall so that the 'I' does not disappear but finds in it, in this sublime alienation, a forfeited existence. Hence a jouissance in which the subject is swallowed up but in which the Other, in return, keeps the subject from foundering by making it repugnant. One thus understands why so many victims of the abject are its fascinated victims - if not its submissive and willing ones...The abject is edged with the sublime."

Julia Kristeva,  Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection,  New York: Columbia University Press, 1982.



      

"There is no death's head, according to Bacon. The head is, if anything, boneless. It is not completely soft, but hard. The head is flesh, and the mask itself is not a death-mask, it is a firm block of flesh which separates from the bones: thus the studies for the portrait of William Blake.  The personal head of Bacon is flesh elevated by a very beautiful glance, without eye-sockets. This is Bacon's greatest homage to Rembrandt, for having painted a final self-portrait as a block of flesh without orbits. In all of Bacon's work the head-meat relationship goes through an escalation of intensity that makes it more and more intimate...The deformation undergone by the body are also the animal traits of the head. But this is in no way a simple correspondence between animal and facial forms. The face, in effect, has lost its original form due to the operations of cleansing and polishing to which it has been subjected, operations which break up its organisation and allow the head to emerge in its place. The marks or traits of animality do not represent pure animal forms, but are rather the expression of spirits which animate the 'cleansed' parts of the face, which draw out the head, which identify and individualise the head even without a face."

Gilles Deleuze, The Body, the Meat and the Spirit: Becoming Animal; Francis Bacon: The Logic of Sensation, 1981.

 

 



"What's outside, we know from the beast’s face only: for we turn around the early child and force it to see formation backwards, not the open, which is so deep in beastsight. Free from death. We only see death; the free beast has its going down behind it and before it god, and when it goes, goes into eternity, like a running spring...It is always world and never nowhere without no: that pureness, that unwatched, which one breathes and endlessly knows and never wants. But a child might lose himself inside the quiet and become shaken. Or someone dies and is.  For near to death one sees that death no more and stares ahead, perhaps with a beast’s huge glance...Were the awareness of our species in the sure beast, which pulls towards us  from another direction — it would drag us into its mutability. But for the beast its being is unending, unprepared, and without insight of its belonging, pure, like its outward glance. And where we see future, there it sees all and itself in all and healed for always."

Rainer Maria Rilke, The Eighth Duino Elegy, 1912-1922, University of California Press, 1961.

 

 

"The sensations of warmth and cold, even those aroused by the mind (for example, through quickly rising hope or fear), belong to the vital sensation. The shudder seizing people even at the idea of something sublime, and the terror with which nurses' tales drive children to bed late at night, belong to the later type. they penetrate the body, so far as it is alive...disgust, a stimulus to discharge something that has been consumed through the shortest path of the gullet (to vomit), is given to the human being as such a strong vital sensation, since such an inner intake...can be dangerous."

Immanuel Kant,  Anthropology from a Pragmatic Point of View, 1798.

 

 

"The young man was a witness to the death that came at him...totally exposed, vulnerable, disarmed, offered unto death, a being for death, the young man seems to represent the very opposite of invincibility, of course. But 'perhaps'! ('perhaps...invincible'). And yet the inexorability of what was coming at him, of what was imminent, but  which had thus already arrived, 'perhaps' made him invincible. Invincible because totally vanquished, totally exposed, totally lost. Dead - immortal...At that instant, I am immortal because I am dead and I am dead: death can no longer happen to me...Dead - immortal. Perhaps ecstasy...An ecstatic wrenching from common temporal existence, an immense orgiastic jouissance...It is jouissance insofar as it does not go without death..."

Jacques Derrida, Demeure: Fiction and Testimony, Merdian, 1998.

 

 

“The disaster is separate; that which is most separate. When the disaster comes upon us, it does not come... To read, to write, the way one lives under the surveillance of the disaster: exposed to the passivity that is outside passion. The  heightening of forgetfulness.  It is not you who will speak; let the disaster speak in you, even if it be by your forgetfulness or silence...The disaster has already passed  beyond danger, even when we under the threat of                     . The mark of the disaster is that one is never at that mark except when one is under threat and, being so, past danger... He said to himself: you shall not kill yourself, your suicide precedes you. Or: he dies inept at dying... The disaster takes care of everything... It is dark disaster that brings the light."

Maurice Blanchot, The Writing of The Disaster, University of Nebraska Press, 1995.

 

 

"For straight men (and decap fantasies seem to be straight men's meat), eroticized beheading, especially by guillotine, is a double-edged pleasure. Ostensibly a fever-dream vision of dominance and submission in which a Sadean male penetrates a powerless babe with his steely blade, decap snuff is haunted by the homoerotic gothic. The dark dreams of Marquis and others like him are shadowed by homophobic fears of the Queer Within: beheading is at once eroticized castration, ejaculation (with the spurting neck-stump as grotesque parody of the squirting penis), and sublimated frottage (decapitation rubs one phallic symbol, the blade, against another—the neck, which stands in for the penile shaft)."

Mark Dery, Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Severed Head, Cabinet Magazine, Issue 10 Spring 2003.

 

 

"Gloria was lying in a pool of blood with her head cut off...There was nothing missing but the head. 'My sexual organ,' as she laughingly used to call it, referring to the cerebral pleasure she got out of her work as a translator and the equally intense pain she suffered from her headaches. Sometimes she'd amend the description and call her head 'the tool of her trade' And now here she was, bereft of her organ or tool, and so made almost anonymous. But only almost. For, head or no head, Gloria Harrison was easily recognisable."

Julia Kristeva, A Beheading; Possessions: A Novel, Columbia University Press,  , 1996.

 

 

"In phantasmagoric representations we are surrounded by night; here a bloody head suddenly shoots out, there a white shape, and they disappear again as suddenly. One perceives this night when one looks another human being in the eye - one peers into a night which inspires terror; the night of the world which here lowers towards us."

G.W.F. Hegel, Jenaer Realphilosophie, 1805-6.

 

 

"Can I die? Have I the power to die? ...To take one's own life: is this not the shortest road from man to himself, from animal to man...Why suicide? If he dies freely, if he experiences and proves to himself his liberty in death and the liberty of his death, he will have attained the absolute. he will be that absolute...His death, by making death possible, will have liberated life and rendered it wholly human."

Maurice Blanchot, Can I Die?, The  Space of Literature, University of Nebraska Press, 1982.

 

 

"Even if one's head were to be suddenly cut off, he should be able to do one more action with certainty...With martial valour, if one becomes like a revengeful ghost and shows great determination, though his head is cut off, he should not die."

Yamamoto Tsunetomo, Hagakure: The Book of the Samurai, 1979.

 

 

"Unlike man, who holds so dearly to his title and his titles, his pouches of  value, his cap, his crown, and everything connected with his head, woman couldn't care less about the fear of decapitation."       

Hélène Cixous, The Laugh of the Medusa, 1975.   

 

 

"Man has escaped from his head just as the condemned man has escaped from prison...Beyond what I am, I meet a being who makes me laugh because he is headless; this fills me with dread because he is made of innocence and crime; he holds a steel weapon in his left hand, flames like those of a Sacred Heart in his right. He reunites the same eruption Birth and Death. He is not a man. He is not a god either. He is not me but he is more than me: his stomach is the labyrinth in which he has lost himself, loses me with him, and in which I discover myself as him, in other words as a monster."

Georges Bataille, The Sacred Conspiracy; Tossa, April 29, 1936; Visions of Excess, University of Minnesota Press, 1985.

 

 

"Severed male heads and decapitated bodies play a prominent role in the decadent art and literature of the late 19th century, particularly in the biblical stories of Judith and Salome. Flaubert, Huysmans, Laforgue, and Wilde in literature, and Moreau, Klimt, Beardsley, and Munch in painting are the best known of a whole host of male fin-de-siecle artists obsessed by visions of vengeful, headhunting, 'demonic' women."

Daniel Gerould, Guillotine: Its Legend and Lore, Blast Books, 1992.

 

 

"What fascinates us robs us of our power to give sense...Separation, which was the possibility of seeing, coagulates at the very centre of the gaze into impossibility...Fascination is solitude's gaze. It is the gaze of the incessant and interminable. In it blindness is  vision still, vision which is no longer the possibility of seeing, but the impossibility of not seeing, the impossibility which becomes visible and preserves - always and always - in a vision that never comes to an end: a dead gaze, a gaze become the ghost of an eternal vision."

Maurice Blanchot, The Image, The Space of Literature, University of Nebraska Press, 1982.

 

 

"Man has escaped his head just as the condemned man has escaped from prison. . . . Beyond who I am, I have met a being who makes me laugh because he is headless. . . . He reunites in the same eruption Birth and Death."

Georges Bataille,  Acéphale, 1936.

 

 

“The lightning flashes through my skull; mine eyeballs ache and ache; my whole beaten brain seems as beheaded, and rolling on some stunning ground.”

Herman Melville, 1819-1891.

 

 

"The human being arrives at the threshold: there he must throw himself headlong into that which has no foundation and has no head."

Georges Bataille, The Obelisk; Visions of Excess,  University of Minnesota Press, 1985.

 

 

"For, nearing death, one sees death no longer, and stares ahead - perhaps, with a broad brute gaze."

Rainer Maria Rilke, The Eighth Duino Elegy, 1912-1922.

 

 

"Give me a call whenever you want to cut off my head... I can always crawl around without it."

M. Emmett Walsh, Blood Simple; Ethan and Joel Cohen, 1984.

 

 

"Yet, it behooves us, poets, to stand bare-headed beneath God's thunderstorms."

Johann Christian Friedrich Hölderlin.

 

 

"By dismembering you the hostile forces had to disperse you."

Rainer Maria Rilke (1875 - 1926).

 

 

"Detached from everything, including detachment."

Maurice Blanchot, The Writing of  the Disaster, University of Nabraska Press, 1995.

 

 

"...even the severing is still a binding and connecting."

Martin Heidegger, Basic Problems of Phenomenology, Gesamtausgabe.

 

 

"The man of action is always without a conscience."

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Sprüche in Prosa, 1749-1832.

 

 

"A decapitation marks the limit of the visible."

Julia Kristeva, Possessions: A Novel, Paris, Fayard, 1996.

 

 

"...the freedom of a decapitated head." 

Maurice Blanchot. Literature and the Right to Death, 1949.

 

 

"Its just torn its head off!"

Victor Salva, Jeepers Creepers II (2003).

 

                                       

Being beheaded. Being a head. Being a head of it self. Being ahead of itself. Being a head of time. Being ahead of time. Being a head of being. Being ahead of being. To be Beheaded is to go Out with True Style as a cut above the rest as Truth raising its Ugly Face frozen face-to-face Toward the Other. Being beheaded is coming to a head and coming-off all over the Other. To be Beheaded severs Being from Da-sein as a Decapitation of being from thereing as not being-there anymore but being-out over-there as Da-alien. The Sensation of Severing is a sense of surprise at being a non-being face to no face becoming Nothing with the Other of the Nothing. The Moment of the Cut is the End of the Air where the stony Stare of the Eyes become the Fixed Time of Fort Da between the Beginnings and the Endings of Beings and Nonbeings. Thinking is not Finishing through Severing since the Mind is in the Feet not in the Head. The Body Thinks through the Severing of the Head and Sensations the Head in Detached Thought as thrown Dasein becoming Dailen. The Decapitated Head always already sees and seeps its own Dissemenation as Staring the Negative in the Face and Enjoying it as a Jouissance out-of-joint: the brute bliss of being beheaded, of losing one's head, of coming-off. The Mind which Thinks from the Ankles feels the face seeing the severing of sight still sensationing throwing thinking  always already after the severing in it-self out-it-self for-it-self as being a head of one's self.  Is being-a-head being-a-head-of-one's-self?  What is the sen-sa-tion of being-be-head-ed?  Dasein decapitated?  Dalien delivered? Of Being be-headed being-out-of-it thrown out-of-joint joining face-to-face with the negative Nothing and tarrying with it toying with it touching it teasing it. Look-ing the No-thing in the Face of the Be-head-ed and tar-ry-ing with it play-ing with it throw-ing it retrie-ving it and kick-ing it about all over-the-joint like a fuck-ing foot-ball. The ta-rry-ing with the de-capi-ta-ted No-thing em-bod-ies the be-head-ed back into the body-of-being (again). As be-ing be-head-ed is always already an impossibility because to severe is to sow to to cut is to cure cutting and completing be-heading as a being be-coming  born be-holding sowing sensation so de-cap-it-a-tion delivers Da-sein where that which is cut-off out-of-joint comes together again as an Aufhebung absolute continuity of discontinuity as a totality of tearing and tarrying with the torn To-tal-ity un-veil-ing un-attain-ed uncovered Un-ity as Absolute AbKnowledge being Pure Sensation of Being being Beheaded. Decapitated Dasein thinks as airborne Air awe. The End of Breathing releases Thinking as Air Back into the Air of Being as Becoming an Airing of Thought. Airing is the Origin of Thinking Thought through beyond being Beheaded beyond Being breathing. Thinking goes on Breathing outside the Head beyond the Body. The severings of the spirit heal and leave no scars behind. Thus the Beheaded Head goes on Existing whether I like It or not whether I look at It or not. The Beheaded Head still sees beyond being Beheaded.  Decapitation grounds the Head at the Horizon of Being out the World where Decapitation is the joyous Jouissance of the Abject Sublime semblance severing semening subjectivity circumscribing castration complete. Decapitation constitutes Identity of Difference as Ather to Otherness of the Same. Decapitation as the Endgame without End as an Ereignis as an Es gibt as an Erlebnis experiencing Decapitation as the Event of Disclosure activating an alien Aletheia whereout a being can be Revealed in its alien being, Attaining a presence as part of a pruning that is presented through Dichtung decapitating Dasein. But Beheading is not an Ending in-it-self but a Becoming out-it-self as a torsoless transition to absolute alien attainment and attunement as Aufhebung as to severe is to serve to suture Stimmung sensationing simultaneously situating Becoming by Beheading Dasein dépense deranged - derailed - detached  - decapitated  - as Absolute Spirit surviving severing since even the severing is still a binding and connecting as a cutting. Hence Hegel is not a Philosopher of the System: Hegel is the Philosopher of the Sensation of the Severing of the System serving a cutting as a clearing atta attaining attuning an Athering.

 

 

                                                                                                                            

                                                                                                                                                                                 Pierre de Wissant  1886  Auguste Rodin

 

 

Hegel was a Head and only a Head as his Body of Knowledge was Severed by his System as an auto-beheading of bodily being Beginning as an Action without Thinking as a Thought activated above Hegel's Head. Hegel hit the Nail on the Head of Philosophy as an angoisse Action above and ahead of Thinking. For Hegel Thought is always already an Action ahead of our Thinking about a Thought. The alien of action is always already without a conscience - without a conception. To Think Something is always already to Throw Something ahead albeit The Nothing at all. For the alien Abjecting is always already afar and ahead of Thinking. Action abjected is ahead of the Head of Thought decapitated by the Terrorism of Thinking where an abjected Action has no Ideological Aim or Political Argument or Philosophical Proposition but Seeks to Sever Sein's Security. Hegel heads a Header to Thinking through Throwing Thought away as an angoisse Action without Thinking the Thought through. The Moment one Thinks one Knows one is Thinking one is no longer Thinking: one does not Know one is Thinking at all. Thinking is not Knowing one is Thinking about it: Knowing is not Thinking: Knowing is The Nothing: Knowing is about The Nothing. Knowing is about The Nothing at all. Knowing is the Nothing not Thought about. Knowing is The Nothing Thrown about. Thinking is always already Throwing around The Nothing at all to Think about Throwing Thought away. Throwing throttles Thought from Thinking about Throwing Thought forth from Thinking about the Thought thrown. Being beheaded throws Thought ahead as an angoisse alien action. Throwing beheads Thinking ahead. To Think is to Abject for Thinking is an Abjecting. To think is to think without wearing a head on. I think therefore I am be-headed.

 

 

 

                                                                                            

                                                                                                                                                 Self Portrait  1910  Egon Schiele

 

 

But that a Decapitation as severed, detached from what circumscribes it, what is beheaded and is actual only in its context with other heads, should attain an existence of its own and a separate freedom - this is the tremendous  shuddering sensation of the severing; it is semblance of Sensation's shine, or the pure 'I' [of Sensation]. Death, if that is what we want to call this Decapitation, is of all things most dreadful, and to hold alive what is dead requires the greatest strength. Lacking strength, the Ugliful hates the Understanding [Verstand] for asking of her what it cannot do.  But the life of Sensation is not the life that shrinks from death and keeps itself unsensationed by devastation, but rather the life that waits and works itself in it. It wins its truth only when, in absolute dismemberment [Zerrissenheit], it finds itself. It is this sensation, not as something positive, that closes its eyes to the severing, as when we say of something that it is nothing or is false, and then having done with it, turn away and pass to something else; on the contrary, Sensation is this strength only by looking  the beheaded in the face, and tarrying with it. This tarrying with the decapitated is the shimmering Sensation that sends it into being and that beheading is that being or sensation whose mediation is not outside of it but which is mediation itself as decapitated Dasein. Being delivered into decapitation is to be face-to-face abject absolute of conscious continuity - as a magnificent mastering discontinuity through decapitation as the mastering of decapitation that holds its moment together its head together through this very beheading in itself as always already being out itself as a-head-of-it-self before the movement and moment of decapitation The severed head as separation from spirit becomes the unity of the Particular and the Universal as a coming-off coming-together apart as a fort-da embodied-beheading being  - being both in-and-out of the world as united together out-of-joint at once out-of-time all the time as the nothing of the whole as that hole which sucks-all-in and spits-all-out as that thrown Thinking which does one's head in  - that does one's head out  - as a headstrong heady heading header beaming breathtaking bolt biting bronze brightness as ahead of one's time as a history coming-off to a head. A head coming-off:  did the heads of  Heraclitus, Hegel, Heidegger - come-off - let leak - how did Heraclitus, Hegel, Heidegger lose their heads - or did Heraclitus, Hegel, Heidegger even ever  give head - give good head -  go down - deep down - deep throating thought sucking off spunk spurting Spirit decapitating Dasein?  What is the time of coming to a head? Ahead of time.

 

 

                                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                                                     Roman Head

 

 

Decapitation is the Hegelian Dialectic coming to a head ahead of time as becoming after being thrown out of nothing comes something out of time. Hegel's Completion of History is the Castration of History severing the System and annihilating Art decapitating Dasein. For headless Hegel negativity is never negated: there is no negation of the negation because decapitation delivers difference: the negative is never negated as Atherness, for Hegel here, as always already being beheaded, is not something negative that must be negated. Thus the Head of Geist is not the Head that is severed from Death and keeps itself dettached by devastation and disaster, but rather the Head that delivers itself in it - it wins its truth only when, in absolute dismemberment, it finds itself as Ather to being I and/or Other.  This being with the negative is the magical mooding that converts it into being as Ather. Thus the negative is never negated in Hegel out Hegel or/and Hegel does not deliver difference to identity  - identity  - is -  instead  -  always already  - as an atta Ather.  No negation happens here. The Nothing happens. The Nothing has already happened here. Again and Again.

Thus the Hegelian Castration is not Historical Closure nor indeed Metaphysical Closure being brave beheaders Heraclitus, Hölderlin, Hegel, Heidegger, Nietzsche and Artaud always already castrate conceptual closure: cancelling (out) concepts castrating (off) concepts: over coming concepts as a coming over concepts so that the future of philosophy will be absolutely concept-free: free of fought.  Fort Da Firing Heraclitus, Hegel, Heidegger, Nietzsche did not write within closed conceptual cages but cleaved cut cleared: drew dread forth forming from within without constructing concepts cutting creating initiating intuitive images as an art alien nailing-the-negative as the absolute angoisse alteric aesthetic semen sensation semblance thirst thrust that nails-the-negative as the serene severe servant severing swish sword silvery silent slain slices smoothly sweetly swiftly beheading being beholding holding head here as giving head as giving a head as giving a gift as daring  David delivers drooling decapitated Dasein desemenised cleaving Caravaggio clean. Clean cut as a cleaved clearing.  To cleave is to cut - to clear to split is to spill to spunk - sown shone severed Semening serves severe Sensation. Cleaved as a castrated carnivorous Caravaggio comes ahead towards you coming off all over you being beheaded before you as an alien abjected atta Ather attained and attuned ahead

Beheading your being there. Beholden. Beheaded. A Gift. A Head.

 

                                                   

                                                                                                                       

                                                                                                                                      David with the Head of Goliath c.1610   Caravaggio

 

 

Castrated Caravaggio seeds Semening sensation as a coming-to-a-head as coming to ahead as the coming of a head as the coming off a head here being be-headed before you coming towards you coming all over you again and again as drenched delirious Dasein jettisoned jouissane. Craving Caravaggio constantly plays fort-da duelling: throwing a tantrum as throwing a sensation severed as a sensation seeking stimuli: throwing stones at a landlady throwing artichokes at a waiter throwing a punch at a poof and then there retrieving the reel of the real as an absolute angoisse abjection attuning as a succulent semening sensation oozed out as an absolute sublime alienation. Cantankerous Caravaggio was not an attention seeker but a seeker of sensation - as being beautifully beheaded  - served severed - free from society heading ahead a head.  Caravaggio was a head of his time as Caravaggio was ahead of his time as Caravaggio beheaded time because Caravaggio headed time because Caravaggio came over time - Caravaggio covered time - recovered time.

Be-head-ed-Bodily sensations still shine Thrown Thought through despite decapitating Dasein. Différance defies Decapitation since shuddering Sensations still think through the beheaded Body beyond Beheading. Be-ing be-head-ed is the out-of-body experience par excellence. Decapitation builds upon the Head of Being, the Head in which the jointure of being, in its decapitated unfolding, enjoins the Ereignis essence of alien being to dwell in the jubilate jouissance of being an alien as delivered Dasein out-of-joint joining the Horizon of the Head where the sea severs the sky at the grounded groin Ground Zero suicide scape escaping the scene as a served severed semening that thus completes coming-off on getting all the juices going and getting off in coming off on getting off on coming off seeing it coming off in seeing ahead a head coming absolutely right off as a Dasein Decapitation as a Severed Sein as a Delivering Différance.

Desire for Decapitation is a Desire for Castration. Contrary to Freud, Man does not Fear Castration: Man desires Castration. Freud was sub-consciously cut-off from the decapitation of desire as the desire for decapitation where woman was castrated-completed as always being with-without: as always being in-completely-with-out where woman was always already dread Dasein Decapitated as cut-out as cut-off as alien from being human where woman was always already castrated, cut-off as decapitated da-sein and attuned ahead as an acéphale alien.

 

 

                                                                                                       

                                                                                                                            Headless Torso  with Huge Hard-On  (Self-Portrait)  1981  A.V.E

 

 

Our inquiry concerning Beheading should bring us face to face head to head with metaphysics itself as ahead out-it-self and 'metaphysics' derives from the decapitated Greek 'meta-ta- physika' with the 'meta' that heads meta-physika Beheading beings as such. Metaphysics is inquiry beheading beings which aims to recover their heads as such and as a whole for our grasp. Decapitation is a 'meta-ta-physika' fort-da-sein as a dice derridaing Dasein. Metaphysics is this Becoming of Beheading beyond beings as a reeling-revealing-recovery.  Thus the thrown Economy of Decapitation is fort-da-sein where severing is a suturing where cutting is a connecting where reeling is a retrieving.  Being Beheaded is the abject-sublime ecstatic Essence of Jouissance joining coming-off as a coming-on of Be-coming out-of-joint. Seeing One losing One's own Head is the Ultimate Bliss of the abject-sublime. Here a solitary severed Head sits staring so at its torn-off-torso trunk and starts tarrying with it: face-to-face with bits of its body without being there but over here. Hear seeing one's Thought surviving being Severed from the Phenomenological Body. Beheading and Thinking are, each in its own way, inescapable for Dwelling as a Dalien suicide scene scape sown before breathing blissful bombing by Becoming Befindlichkeit Behaeding Stimmung Sensationing futuring further fort-da-fluxing forever giving Geist, giving Gift -  as a Gift given  -  by being Beheaded  -  before you - ahead - a head.

The Decapitation Drive is not a drive to death but a drive to différance. Your wet or dry Dreams of a young man's head being cut-off is not Symbolic of Castration but a Sign of Becoming. Decapitation is Becoming. Decapitation is Freedom from Castration: Dasein is always already Unified through Decapitation. Castration is Completion as Ereignis Erection.  Dashing Dasein runs ahead of Decapitation of Being beheaded. Being is always already decapitated from Dasein as being Beheaded brings Being back face to face with the night of the Nothing. Decapitated Dasein's running ahead of the afterlife defeats Death ahead of being beheaded as a tarrying with Time all the time not in time being behind and ahead of the time of being beheaded as an executed Ereignis always ahead of time as a Head of Time. The Decapitation of Dasein, therefore, is the Nothing of the Head in-it-self a-head of being and time. The Decapitated Head as a Whole in-itself becomes complete in its castration embodied without a body. Decapitation has Displaced the Crucifixion as an Armature "for hanging all sorts of feeling and sensation" as Bacon beheads: "There it is!" and as Heidegger heads: "The nothing is what there is, and first of all, nothing beheaded."  Beheadedness is bleak Bacon's "brutality of fact" as a dispersal of decapitated dread DaseinGeist gets a head start severing the thing-out-it self so there can be no "turning Hegel on his head"  - he has always already been Beheaded.  Hegel lost his Head whilst writing the Phenomenology of Spirit. To think radically, to think alienally, to think decapitally, is to lose one's head.  But the Head of Geist is not the head that shrinks from death and keeps itself untouched by decapitation, but rather the head that endures and maintains itself in it  - as a severed Sein.  It wins its truth only when, in absolute dismemberment it finds itself. Only by losing one's head does one find one's Geist as ahead of death served as a Head of severed Sein as Being a Head of itself  out of itself as an alien Ather.

 

                                                                                                                                      

                                                                                                                                                     Headless  Self  Portrait  1981  A.V.E

 

Giving Head decapitates death - delivering decapitated Dasein  - Geist's Head - ahead of History - as a Head of Time - out-of-head ahead-of-time.

Hegel beheaded History. Giving Hegel the Head Room to Dwell Dasein delivering thus the Geist Gift of Being Beheading as a Decapitated Dasein becoming a Head of  History ahead of History as Hegel giving Head to History coming all over the Other as an Absolute Ather. 

Hegel is Constantly Decapitating His Head without Losing His Head. For Hegel Decapitation is an Absolute Continuity of an Abjected Castration as an Ather Completion coming together-apart as a coming-off as a head of time as ahead of time all the time out-of-time and out-of-joint as jointly coming all over time drenching Dasein delivering drooling Dalien. Through throwing  Decapitation dwelling being departs from Daesin delivering Dalien. Decapitation opens up opens out as a scape scene of the Dalien.  Hegel beheaded History by bringing History to a Head as History was going to his Head towards itself its end. Hence Hegel is a-head-of-his-time: Hegel polishes off history Hegel finishes off history hence Hegel hacked off the head of history as a complete coming off. The severed Head served up by Hegel is “the last stage of History, our world, our own time”. Hear Hegel here where “world history is thus the Beheading of Spirit in Time, as Sensation is the Beheading of the Idea in Space.”  Here Hegel gave Good Head. Hegel gave good Head. Hegel gave God Head. God never Came. God could not Come. Off. Hegel could not Bring God off. Dialectical Decapitation defines the Stimmung Sensation of History for Hegel as a suturing  Semening scape scene so sealing Castration as a Conclusion in the Coming to a Head of History. Catapulted Capitalism  -  Capitalism - as a Caput - as a Head - cannot lose its Head as Capitalism is Hydra Headed: Capitalism constantly thrives through being Decapitated being Beheaded as a Radical Decapitation - decapitating democracy as a Radical Différance -  as conscious-free  -  Hydra Headed de-Capitalism  as Absolute de-Terrorism  -  de-capitates democracy de-stablizing  Da-sein de-livering Da-lien as an alteric attuned arcanum altaric Alienation attained as an abheaded Absolute Ather - and not a negation of a negation - nearer navigating nothing ahead an abhead as a meandering mauling maiming malicious metaphysics serving serenely severed Sein

The Hegel has Landed. Beheaded. Beheaden. Beholden.  Acéphale. A head. Ahead

 

 

                                                                                                                        

                                                                                                                                                Reclining Man with Severed Head, 1960-61  Francis Bacon

                                                      

                    

                                                    Bacon & Jünger: Storm & Steel Sensationism

             

                                                                                                                                          

 

 

Francis Bacon & Ernst Jünger jointly joint jerk junior joggle jive jew juices juxtaposing jussive jostle jounce joyance jest joycean joiuissance  head heart hand hitting hard brittle broken back torn tongue tremor trepidation trenchant tripe trench two toes transitory transparent torpedo torso trunk trauma silent so shared spine sapid sperm sap seeping serrate serried soldiers severing swollen steel smoking shot shrapnel shattered skull screaming steaming skin severed separate sent sensation sailing squirting semen soaked smelly sock sinking shoe exiled empty eye frozen finite fingers injuries initiating images involving doing death daily dazed dully drooling digging dirt soil soaked swabs severed screen scream seeping seductive subhuman sensation slowly sinking fuelling feverous fighting filemot fissure flange flank flaming fucking frothing filth forgetting finger falling fixed fucked frozen forever bleak bare bled brittle bony bodies barely breathing balls badly burnt rare roasted rotting ripple ripe risky rifle round rose reap rape rectum recipient rebate reeling repulsive repugnant refreshing restful rigorous rigor mortis mourning memorial mending man mutating resonantly really reptilian resolute reroute residue rone rifle round rile roar revealing revolting rotten rear roast ripe rib rawness removing reside R.S.V.P. R.I.P. molesting murdered mellifluous mellow matrix moron munching moist massive man meat  mauling monster masseur milking machine manoeuvers mapping martial manuscript memoirs manically mocking moronic macabre machiavelian mafia mindsets massacre making mantis meal mannnequins  noxious nostril nostrum numb now narcotic neurotic narcissism nude numb nurturing nutritious nobody nailing negating nothingness oozed out of obedient oaths of our Odysseus Oedipus Onuris Orestes Orlan Orpheus Osiris osmosis optical orbit ore oration opposing opportunism or opinion of opaque orphan others vermilion viridian vermin viewing visceral visual visionary venomous vitriol vile volume violence very vivaciously voluptuously vibrating vermin  vigorously violating vision velocity veer vacant veal vomit pious putrid pristine prick pork pus piss glistening gleaming grisly groin groan grimace ghost grave grip grope grief crying corpse calling captive cutting commander cocks cleavage casualty collapsing craters canals cadaverous camouflage cylinder clatter clinging claw arresting artificial arms aiming artillery aura at ashen archaic arsehole assault arresting an anus asthma attack as automatic autopsy avid alert awake wandering wondering weary weak wayward woozy wailing wan warrior wrapping wart war wab wound wattle wadding weeping while walking ahead: Beheaded.

 

 

                                                                                                                                                         

                                                                                                                                                                                              The Walking Man  1990  Auguste Rodin

 

Despite being headless Rodin's The Walking Maniis strong headed as if the chest was wearing the face as if the body was becoming the face. Here one is confronted with the possibility of being headless whilst walking: of being able to walk ahead and head tall without a head. The Walking Man is paradoxically much more complete – much more whole – without having a head on and without wearing arms.  The Walking Man is whole and perfect in its partial incompleteness where being a broken ruin becomes a newly built being and a finished thing by being beheaded by being ahead of itself.

The be-head-ed head attains and attunes an angoisse ancient exodus existence all of its own as a severed freedom from be-ing em-bodied in the world. T-he th-rown ser-ene sen-sa-tion of  be-ing be-head-ed main-tains and mon-itors it-self in the Geist Gaze of the Sev-ered Staring head of being being a head of it-self for-it-self out-it-self as a head of being a head and behind be-head-ed time and being and being and ti-me as a fort-da-flux-ing formed from be-hold-ing be-head-ing dis-lo-cati-on dis-mem-ber-ment de-cap-it-a-tion de-con-str-uc-ti-on as a cut-ting col-lec-ting com-ing con-tin-ui-ty as an Absolute Abknowledge where Death becomes Impossible. A Fear of Death is a Fear of the Impossibility of Death.  Being death-out-itself Art negates Death as Art is activated as being in the presence of the past's impossible death as Hegel gives head to: “Art is and remains for us...a thing of the past”Art is indeed 'a thing' of the past - a past  prehistory; as alien to being-in-time, as art alien cannot be 'contemporary'; art alien is always already prehistoric, always already primordial. Art is always already beheaded History cut-off from History as Art is always already cut-off from its coming conception and initiated inception as Art never ever arrived on time or in time as Art came too early as Art came too late as Art unmakes History in its own abimage as Absolute absence pulverising the possibility of presence by Becoming Beheaded as a permanent primordial presence: there is no Art in the now.  There was no Art then. Art is alien to Time. Art alien tarries with Time. Art alien tarries with the Negative; Art alien thrives off the Negative seeking and surviving its own Death its own Negation by Becoming Pure Negation as a Positive Force fuelling jubilate jouissance as appropriating an alien angoisse anxiety. As altaric  Adorno stated: head Hegel defined the task of art as 'the appropriation of the alien'. Art Alien is the Severed Head laying low on the Horizon waiting awhile to be lifted up and placed upon a pedestal for posterity and a place in History. Only History can judge the jouissance of art alien not the cunt critic. There can be no question: 'Where is art going?'  - as head-less, Art cannot see where it is going so goes no where while History has gone to its Head as Beauty is in the Eye of the Beheaded where the Ugliful is merely the Beautiful De-capitated as a dislocated dialectical disjunction delivering dread Dalien.  Vivacious Beheading beholds Beautiful Violence voluptuously bringing to ahead the Head of the Ugly Object off.  Here Hegel's absolute aesthetic sensation sows the Negative as the sensuous semblance of the Spirit as a Suicide Bomber beheading being Becoming alien Ather. The suicide bomber becomes the alien ather. The suicide bomber - as absolute subject, as absolute sacrifice, as absolute exteriority, as absolute knowledge, knows nothing of death. The suicide bomber is true to Being. The suicide bomber is true to Dasein. The suicide bomber is true to the Nothing by attuning with the Nothing by being the Nothing through becoming the Nothing at all. Hegel was the Suicide Bomber of the System: Blowing His Head off: Severed Sein: Severing the System: Going to His Head: Going off His Head: Becoming the Nothing.

 

                                               

                                                                                                                                                       

                                                                                                                                             Headless Self Portrait  1911  Egon Schiele

                           

 

What happens in the History of Beheading? What happens to the Head of the Suicide Bomber?  Nothing happens. Beheading alone is. For the Suicide Bomber is ahead as always already a Head beheaded from being-in-the-world. What happens to the Suicide Bomber's Head? Nothing. Nothing happens here as Alien annihilates; Appropriation appropriates as an activated apophansis appropriating an alien Aleithia. Thus the Suicide Bomber as the Origin of the Gift is the Giver that Sends the Sender that Gives as a Taking: as a Taking out as the Opening out, the Opening out of the Origin as Taking (out) Life as a Giving (out) Death delivering dread Dasein as an alien being Becoming the Origin that Takes the Beheading to Itself sent through the blowing up of being bringing being out-of-the-world as an alien Aleithia always Other to Itself as a Beheading by Bombing becomes the Giving Sein that Sends. Being Bombed activates and attunes as Taken Time so Sending Sein spent sent as Decapitated Dasein blowing being beyond being  - away  - ahead  - a head - as an alien Aleithia all again. Yet, it beheads us, poet philosophers, to stand bare-headed beneath an Alien's bomb blasts behead by showering sharp shrapnel shards down dismembering decapitating Dasein severing Sein. Serving Sein. As Served Sein the Suicide Bomber is the Origin of the Gift of Difference. The Suicide Bomber blows apart the Origin of Being being as always already an abjected Ather as a Severed Sein beautifully Beheading your being there. The Suicide Bomber as Absolute Abjection attains an Absolute Gift: Geist as an alien Aweing awakening an Ather. Giving  Geist as an Alien attunement and attainment is neither I nor Other but Ather. Decapitated Dasein. Or: 'I am a Suicide Bomber therefore I am not.'  Philosophy is always already losing its head for philosophy survives precisely by cutting its own head off - again and again and again. Philosophy is initiated ahead as an auto-decapitation action. Philosophy  - as a Decapitated Dasein - aspires to the Condition of Terrorism. Bombing being.

Become an alien Bomber: Behead your being there. As a severed Sein a Suicide Bomber Gives Geist. A Geist. A Sein. A Gift. A Head.  Acéphale.

 

 

                                                                                                                                 

                                                                                                                                                Acéphale Revue   André Masson  1937  

                

 

Behead Elliott Abrams - Behead Gary Bauer - Behead William J. Bennett - Behead Jeb Bush - Behead Dick Cheney - Behead Eliot A. Cohen  - Behead Midge Decter - Behead Paula Dobriansky - Behead Steve Forbes - Behead Aaron Friedberg - Behead Francis Fukuyama - Behead Frank Gaffney - Behead Fred C. Ikle - Behead Donald Kagan - Behead Zalmay Khalilzad - Behead I. Lewis Libby - Behead Norman Podhoretz - Behead Dan Quayle - Behead Peter W. Rodman - Behead Stephen P. Rosen - Behead Henry S. Rowen - Behead Donald Rumsfeld - Behead Vin Weber - Behead George Weigel - Behead Paul Wolfowitz - Behead The Project for the New American Century - Acéphale America...

The Project for the New American Century is a terrorist organization dedicated to exporting and expanding state sanctioned terrorism and propagating reactionary religious fundamentalist propositions: that American Terrorism is bad both for America and for the World; and that such US Terrorism requires US military strength, colonial control, and commitment to the US Terrorist Principle of Might is Right - Decapitating Democracy - Beheading Being. Behead US Terrorism. Behead Bush. To be Decapitated... Acéphale Activated...

                                                                    

 

                                                                                                                                

                                                                                                                                                     Joan Miró, Francis Bacon, André Masson at the  Grand Palais  in 1971

 

 

As ab-jected Acéphale pro-jected prime cuts Time, Being, Alien, Dasein, Sensation - as served severed atta attuned atherings - are always never not (in-tel-lect-ual) 'con-cepts' but (out-al-lect-ual) 'de-capts': de-cap-it-ations, cut-offs: t-he w-ord cut-s: th-e wor-d cun-ts lang-uage leak-s: sen-tences ser-ve se-vering - the cut off of be-ing - the cut of off ti-me: ti-me-as-cut can-not be con-cep-tual-ised s-ince ti-me-torn is always already afar ahead and aback th-row-n be-hind and be-yond and a-head and a-back of the con-cept of the gr-asp leav-ing man mar-inated and mar-ooned lost for time l-ost for wo-rds. T-her-e is no 'written word' on-ly sev-er-ed sen-tences - de-ath sent-ences - t-he-re is th-e cut-ting wo-rd de-cap-itated from con-text and f-rom te-xt. Bacon of-ten be-he-ad-ed to Peppiatt: “I love phrases that cut me” .  We ab-use use-d sen-ten-ces so to su-ture cut-off-word-s. To W-rite is to de-cap-itate into Eternity un-til the Blade be-comes Blunt. W-rit-ing is an Act of De-cap-itation. W-ri-ting is t-he Ar-t o-f de-cap-itation. W-riting Si-gns i-ts Own De-ath War-rant as a Li-fe Sen-tence. W-ritin-g m-akes De-ath laugh-ab-le in its she-er im-possibility. W-riting go-es on wit-h-out t-he He-ad as Th-ought go-es on w-ith-o-ut t-he Bo-dy. Lan-guage is n-ot a Medi-um of Com-munica-tion b-ut of Comb-at. Lan-guage as Am-mun-ition a-lways Att-acks and An-nihilates. Shra-pnel sev-ering sen-tence-s wo-rd w-ound-ing limb lan-gu-age hur-t hy-p-he-n cut-tin-g c-om-as p-utre-fied pet-ri-fie-d pa-use pan-i-c para-tro-oper parac-hu-ting para-graph-s. T-he wo-rd is not a thin-g. T-he w-ord is a woun-d. T-he wor-d is a w-omb. T-he w-ord is a wo-un-ding. T-he w-ord i-s a wom-bing. A w-oun-d t-hat w-eeps. A wom-b tha-t wee-ps. A wo-rd t-hat we-eps. A wo-rd wan-ders. A wor-d wonder-s. All o-n it-s o-wn. Wi-th no wh-ere to go. W-ith no wh-ere to c-o-me. W-ith no wh-ere to b-e. The w-ord is a-head of it-se-lf.  T-he W-ord is a He-ad o-f It-sel-f wi-th-out a Bo-dy of Be-ing. T-he Wo-rd is a He-ad of t-he Te-xt. The Wo-rd is a He-ad of the Bo-dy of the Te-xt. T-he Wo-rd is Al-ien an-d a-lways a-lready sev-ered fr-om a sen-ten-ce. L-an-gu-age Le-aks lea-vi-ng Se-men-ology Sem-blan-ce Sen-ten-ces sev-ering Sem-iology so se-men-tics so-ws so-aks se-man-tics mel-ting me-an-ing me-an-ingle-ss. Se-men-ology is ne-it-her a so-lid s-ent-en-ce or a liq-uid la-ng-u-age bu-t an al-iquid ab-jection - as a lea-kin-g lam-ella - lic-k-in-g loit-er-ing - d-rip-p-ing dro-ol do-wn - thr-ou-gh the fi-lter-i-ng f-in-gers ou-t of t-he to-ng-uin-g tu-rd te-xt wet-ti-ng wo-rds we-ep se-ep-ing se-m-en-in-g seve-r-ed spu-nk st-ain-ed sen-ten-ces su-nk stav-e-d sl-ice-d si-le-nt si-gh-i-n-g-

 

 

                                                                                                                             

                                                                                                                   Decapitation as the Jouissance of the Abject Sublime

 

     

                                                                                                                        

 

                                                 Wuornos & Whiteread:  Alien Out Casts

                                                       In Shining Memory of Aileen  -  An Outcasted Alien Artist

 

 

"There's no place like home." 

Dorothy, from The Wizard Of Oz  1939.

 

 

"There's no such thing as home." 

Mark Cousins, The Pain of Time Past,  AA, 14.10.05.

 

 

"..only what does not fit into this world is true."  

 
Theodor Adorno, Aesthetic Theory,  The Athlone Press.

 

 

"Philosophy is really homesickness, - it is an urge to be at home everywhere." 

Novalis, (1772-1801).

 

 

"Where is my home? I ask and seek and have sought for it. I have not found it."

Friedrich Nietzsche,  Also sprach Zarathustra, 1883.

 

 

"To be at home everywhere means to be at once and at all times within the whole."

Martin Heidegger , (1889-1976).

 

 

"For there is a need for contemplation whether and how...there can still be such a thing as home."

Martin Heidegger May 22, 1976.

 

 

"I feel myself to be an alien in the world. If you have no ties to either mankind or to God, then you are an alien."

Ludwig Wittgenstein, Ludwig Wittgenstein: The Duty of Genius, Ray Monk,  Penguin Books, 1990.

 

 

"I've always been fascinated by how people, just by their touch, change something - things are worn away."

Rachel Whiteread, Some day, my plinth will come, The Observer, Sunday May 27, 2001.

 

 

"A criminal's lawyers are seldom artists enough to turn the beautiful terribleness of the deed to the advantage of him who did it."

Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good And Evil, Penguin Classics, 1973.

 

 

"People do not die immediately for us, but remain bathed in a sort of aura of life...It is as though they were travelling abroad."

Marcel Proust, Remembrance of Things Past, 19-13-1927.

 

 

"...the Other man who is 'autrui' also risks being always Other than man, close to what cannot be close to me: close to death, close to the night, and certainly as repulsive as anything that comes to me from these regions without horizon."

Maurice Blanchot, L' entretien infini, Paris, Edition Gallimard, 1980.

 

 

"Death in Heidegger is an event of freedom, whereas for me the subject seems to reach the limit of the possible in suffering.  It finds itself enchained, overwhelmed, and in some way passive."

Emmanuel Lévinas, Time and the Other (1946/7).

 

 

"The most spiritual human beings, assuming they are the most courageous, also experience  by far the most painful tragedies: but it is precisely for that reason they honour life, because it brings against them its most formidable weapons."

Friedrich Nietzsche, Die Götzen-Dämmerung - Twilight of the Idols, 1895.

 

 

"The thirst to be loved, the consciousness of oneself, the seeing of oneself, the forming of oneself in the possible loving consciousness of another, the striving to turn the longed-for love of another into a force that impels and organizes my life."

Mikhail Bakhtin, Art and Answerability, University of Texas Press, 1990.

 

 

"Oddly enough, my critics never specify how far I can go. How can you address problems if you're not even allowed to clearly define them? Like the fact that Muslim women at home are kept locked up, are raped and are married off against their will - and that in a country in which our far too passive intellectuals are so proud of their freedom!"

Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Spiegel Interview, Spiegel, February 06, 2006.

 

 

"You only have to look at the Medusa straight on to see her. And she's not deadly. She's beautiful and she's laughing...Unlike man, who holds so dearly to his title and his titles, his pouches of  value, his cap, his crown, and everything connected with his head, woman couldn't care less about the fear of decapitation (or castration), adventuring, without masculine temerity, into anonymity, which she can merge with, without annihilating herself - because she's a giver."       

Hélène Cixous,  The Laugh of the Medusa, 1975.

 

 

"Language is a mother, a mother tongue, but a mother who has become alien and distant, divided from us by the 'partition wall' of death.  It must be experienced as something alien, in order to provide appetizing nourishment, for its translation into the sphere of our familiar language can only - another communion wine - 'taste like Rhine wine, which has lost its flavour'.  What is foreign cannot be transformed into what is one's own, nor enjoyed as the spiritual nourishment of this mother tongue, by means of translation, imitation, or copying."

Werner Hamacher, Pleroma - Readings in Hegel,  The Athlone Press,  1988.

 

 

"The death of the Other: a double death, for the Other is death already, and weighs upon me like an obsession with death. In the relation of myself to the Other, the Other exceeds my grasp. The Other: the Separate, the Most-High which escapes my power - the powerless, therefore; the stranger, dispossessed. But, in the relation of the Other to me, everything seems to reverse itself: the distant becomes close-by, this proximity becomes the obsession that afflicts me, that weighs down upon me, that separates me from myself - as if separation (which measured the transcendence from me to the Other) did its work within me, dis-identifying me, abandoning me to passivity, leaving me without any initiative and bereft of present."

Maurice Blanchot, The Writing of the Disaster, University of Nebraska Press, 1995.

 

 

"Thus human reality in-itself-for-itself can be achieved only through conflict and through risk that conflict implies. This risk means that I go beyond life toward a supreme good that is the transformation of subjectivity certainty of my own worth into a universally valid objective truth. As soon as I desire I am asking to be considered. I am not merely here-and-now, sealed into thingness. I am for somewhere else and for something else.  I demand that notice be taken of my negating activity insofar as I pursue something other than life; insofar as I do battle for the creation of a human world - that is, of a world of reciprocal recognitions. He who is reluctant to recognise me opposes me. In a savage struggle I am willing to accept convulsions of death, invincible dissolution, but also the possibility of the impossible."

Franz Fanon, Black Skin White Masks,  Grove Press, New York, 1967.

 

 

"But anxiety, which anticipates one's being being cast into nothingness and stakes out the time of the possible, does not yet know the time in which one has to die. The death one anticipates in anxiety is both distant and imminent ; it is the future moment, the fatal instant, that measures the paths and an array of tasks still ahead awaiting one's own forces.  Anxiety quickens one's own powers to take hold of what is ahead. The death awaiting one is always imminent at any moment; in whatever one takes hold of, the abyss may take hold of one. But in whatever one takes hold of, one takes hold of a death that will be one's own. The anxiety that anticipates one's death extends before one a time to act; the approach of death opens beneath one its own time...One sees others seeing things one could oneself see if one stood where they stand. One does not loo at her but with her; following the path of her gaze, one divines the radius of things that attract her."

Alphonso Lingis, Abuses, University of California Press, 1994.

 

 

"Anxiety individualizes Dasein and thus discloses it as 'solus ipse.'  But this existential 'solipsism' is so far from the displacement of putting an isolated subject-thing into the innocuous emptiness of a worldless occurring, that in an extreme sense what it does is precisely to bring Dasein face to face with its world as world, and thus bring it face to face with itself as being-in-the-world...In anxiety one feels 'unsettled.' Here the peculiar indefiniteness of that amidst which Dasein finds itself in anxiety comes primarily to expression: the 'nothing and nowhere.'  But here 'unsettledness' (Unheimlichkeit) also means 'not-being-at-home'...Being-towards-death is essentially anxiety... Anxiety is anxious about naked Dasein as something that has been thrown into unsettledness. It brings one back to the pure 'that-it-is' of one's own most individualized throwness...In the dark there is emphatically 'nothing' to see, though the very world itself is still 'there.' and there more obtrusively...Our concernful awaiting finds nothing in terms of which it might be able to understand itself; it clutches at the 'nothing' of the world."

Martin Heidegger, Being and Time,  1927.

 

 

"Out of retaliation for taking my life like this and getting rich off it all these years and total pathological lying. Thanks a lot - I lost my fucking life because of it - couldn't even get a fair trial - couldn't even get a f fair investigation nor nothing - couldn't even get my appeals right. You sabotaged my arse society!  And the cops, and the system - a raped woman got executed!  And was used for books and movies and shit!  Ladder climbers, re-election and everything else!...You're an inhuman bunch of fucking livin' bastards and bitches and you're gonna' get your arses nuked in the end. And pretty soon it's comin'  -  2019 a rocks supposed to hit you anyhow - you're all gonna get nuked. You don't take fucking human like this and just sabotage and rip it apart like Jesus on the cross and say thanks a lot for all the fucking money I've made offa ya!  I'm not giving you book and movie info!...I'd just like to say I'm sailing with the Rock and I'll be back like Independence Day  with Jesus, June 6, like the movie, big mother ship and all. I'll be back..."

Aileen Wuornos, Born 29 February 1956  -  Executed October 9, 2002 in Florida.

 

 

"Has She left you nothing  - but death? But another means nothing to you... And this world takes place neither simply inside you or outside you. It passes from inside to outside, from outside to inside your being. In which should be based the very possibility of dwelling. and you meet me only in the space that you have opened up for yourself. You never meet me except as your creature - within the horizon of your world. Within the circle of your becoming. That protective shell which shelters you from an outside of  you which might question the matter with which you built your house. You take me inside you, you cast me outside you, a yes or a no making you full or  empty... Do not leave me behind. You reduce me to singularity. And I die when I am imprisoned in a single unique sameness."

Luce  Irigaray, Elemental Passions,  The Athlone Press, 1992.

 

 

"What we designate as 'feminine,' far from being  a primeval essence, will be seen as an  an 'other' without a name, which subjective experience confronts when it does not stop at the appearance of its identity...That other sex, the feminine, becomes synonymous with a radical evil that is to be suppressed. Let us keep that fact in mind."

Julia Kristeva,  Powers of Horror: an Essay on Abjection, Columbia University Press,  New York, 1982.

 

 

"In focusing upon multiplicity and otherness, embracing contradictions, women's difference, not only from men, but also from one another, and even within themselves, can be affirmed in a time of discontinuity. Consequently even the phenomenological language of experience is rendered inadequate to describe the complexity of feminine otherness. To put it negatively, it is the exclusion of women from linear history which gives women their specificity."

Tina Chanter, Antigone's Dilemma, Re-Reading Levinas, The Athlone Press, 1991.

 

 

"The trace, the impress and the negative world which is there dimension are all repressed by the everyday mechanics of casting. But they return wherever loss and remembering are at stake Clearly this is the world within which the works of Rachel Whiteread operate...Over time the works of Rachel Whiteread have specialised from objects to objects which contain objects; from mattresses, tables, cupboards, basins to the series that runs from the wardrobe to the room, to 'House'...For what is characteristic of ghosts is not that they are seen or not seen, but that they transform the relation between what is normally seen and what is not seen. 'House' goes a stage further. The object which contains space is moved out from the last sheltering object which also contains space - the gallery. 'House' is/was in the world and the world beat a path to it to inquire what its place was in the world."

Mark Cousins, Rachel Whiteread: Inside outcast, Tate,  Issue 10, Winter, 1996.

 

 

"She is indefinitely other in herself. That is undoubtedly the reason she is called temperamental, incomprehensible, perturbed, capricious - not to mention her language in which she goes off in all directions and in which he is unable to discern the coherence of any meaning. Contradictory words seem a little crazy to the logic of reason, and inaudible for him who listens with ready-made grids, a code prepared in advance. In her statements - at least when she dares to speak out--woman retouches herself constantly. She just barely separates from herself some chatter, an exclamation, a half- secret, a sentence left in suspense - when she returns to it, it is only to set out again from another point of pleasure or pain. One must listen to her differently in order to hear an other meaning which is constantly in the process of weaving itself, at the same time ceasely embracing words and yet casting them off to avoid becoming fixed, immobilized. For when she says something it is already no longer identical to what she means."

Luce Irigaray , This Sex Which Is Not One, 1985.

 

 

"Pure violence, a relationship between beings without faces, is not yet violence, is pure nonviolence. And inversely: pure nonviolence, the non relation of the same to the other (in the sense understood by Lévinas) is pure violence. Only a face can arrest violence, but can do so, in the first place, only because a face can provoke it."

Jacques Derrida, Writing and Difference, 1967.

 

 

"The relationship with the Other, the face-to-face with the Other, the encounter with a face that once gives and conceals the Other, is the situation in which an event happens to a subject who does not assume it, who is utterly unable in its regard, but where nonetheless in a certain way it is in front of the subject."

Emmanuel Lévinas,  Time and the Other, Duquesne University Press, 1987.

 

 

"Responsible: this word generally qualifies - in a prosaic, bourgeois manner - a mature, lucid, conscientious man, who acts with circumspection, who takes into account all elements of a given situation, calculates and decides;  the successful man of action. But  now responsibility - responsibility for the other, for everyone, without reciprocity - is displaced. No longer does it belong to consciousness; it is not an activating thought process put into practice, nor is it even a duty that would impose itself from without and from within. My responsibility for the Other presupposes a change an overturning such that it can only be marked by a change in the status of  'me,' a change in time and perhaps in language. Responsibility, which withdraws me from my order (perhaps from all order), which separates me from myself...and discloses the other in my place, requires that I answer for absence, for passivity. It requires that I answer for the impossibility of being responsible, to which it has always already consigned me by both  holding me accountable and discounting me altogether. And this paradox leaves nothing intact, not subjectivity anymore than the subject, not the individual any more than the person."

Maurice Blanchot, The Writing of the Disaster, University of Nebraska Press, 1986.

 

 

"This spatiality, or spaciosity, is the space of freedom, inasmuch as freedom is, at every moment, the freedom of a free space. Which means that it constitutes the spatializing or spacing the essence of freedom. Spacing is the general 'form' - which precisely has no form, but gives room for singularities - of existence: the spacing, exposure, retrenchment and cutting (decision) of singularity, the alterity (which is,...the character of the air) of singularity in its difference which relates it to its limit, to others, and to itself: for example, a mouth opened in a cry."

Jean-Luc Nancy, The Experience of Freedom, Stamford University Press, 1993. 

 

 

"The beloved woman would be mute or reduced to speaking in the spaces between the male lover's discourse. She would be relegated to his shadow as double... She is brought into a world that is not her own so that the male lover may enjoy himself and gain strength for his voyage toward an autistic transcendence."

Luce Irigaray, Fecundity  of the Caress, 1993.

 

 

"If the feminine remains the silent and equivocal other, connoting profanity, infancy and yet the mystery of absolute otherness, it is unclear how women philosophers and readers of  Lévinas are to situate themselves in relation in relation to this feminine. D women take up an opposing stance to the feminine, making themselves other to otherness, or identify with the feminine other? In either case, it is unclear that the presence of the feminine and the relation of woman to ethics and otherness has been 'thought through as such'. It is Irigaray's aim to keep this possibility alive."

Alison Ainley, The Feminine, Otherness, Dwelling; Feminist Perspectives on Lévinas, Facing the other,  Curzon, 1996.

 

 

"Neither inside, nor outside, the abject is unthinkable. It disrupts the terms of the opposition between inner and outer, system and non-system, subject and object. It is not the correlate of the subject – it is not an object...The system finds the abject unbearable, intolerable, unassimilable...The abject can be named, can be identified, can be isolated, and characterized, but not without a certain misnaming, a mismatching, a misconstrual. Abjection resists language, even as we communicate it in the most successful exchange–as if it could ever be contained or controlled, mediated. Irrecuperable, irreducible, its representation is always also its undoing. Like chora, what this word names is already illegitimate, as soon as the said is completed. Words have already missed their target. What would it matter if in a hypothetical world abjection never returned? Its damage is already accomplished. It has become the threat that summoned it. In becoming the very threat it tried to ward off, in becoming the unacceptable, unspeakable, it assures for itself a legitimacy, a domain. It takes the place of representation, but it does not represent. One cannot quite say it becomes representation, for it is never objectifiable. It objectifies. It does not exist, it is not an agency, it is not a subjective force. It proposes limits, borders, gives a place, but it does not originate, instigate, or initiate. It beckons, invites, tempts, invades, propositions, ridicules, allures."

Tina Chanter, Abjection, Death and Difficult Reasoning: The Impossibility of Naming Chora in Kristeva and Derrida; 2000.

 

 


"When you address the Other, even if it is to oppose the Other, you make a sort of promise - that is, to address the Other as Other, not to reduce the otherness of the Other, and to take into account the singularity of the Other. That's an irreducible affirmation, its the original ethics if you want. So from that point of view, there is an ethics of deconstruction. Not in the usual sense, but there is an affirmation. You know, I often use a quote from Rosensweig or even from Levinas which says that the 'yes' is not a word like others, that even if you do not pronounce the word, there is a 'yes' implicit in every language, even if you multiply the 'no', there is a 'yes'. And this is even the case with Heidegger. You know Heidegger, for a long time, for years and years kept saying that thinking started with questioning, that questioning (fragen) is the dignity of thinking. And then one day, without contradicting this statement, he said 'yes, but there is something even more originary than questioning, than this piety of thinking,' and it is what he called zusage which means to acquiesce, to accept, to say 'yes', to affirm. So this zusage is not only prior to questioning, but it is supposed by any questioning. To ask a question, you must first tell the Other that I am speaking to you. Even to oppose or challenge the Other, you must say 'at least I speak to you', 'I say yes to our being in common together'. So this is what I meant by love, this reaffirmation of the affirmation." 

Jacques Derrida, Interview with Jacques Derrida by Nikhil Padgaonkar.

 

 

 

"Man errs. Man does not merely stray into errancy. He is always astray in errancy, because as ek-sistent he in-sists and so already is caught in errancy. The errancy through which man strays is not something which, as it were, extends alongside man like a ditch into which he occasionally stumbles; rather errancy belongs to the inner constitution of the Da-sein into which historical man is admitted. Errancy is the free space for that turning in which insistent ek-sistence adroitly forgets and mistakes itself constantly anew. The concealing of the concealed being as a whole holds sway in that disclosure of specific beings, which, as forgottenness of concealment, becomes errancy."

Martin Heidegger, Untruth as Errancy; On the Essence of Truth,  1943.

 

 

 

                                                                              

                                                                                                            Untitled (Pair)  1999  Rachel Whiteread                                    

 

 

In the Beginning was the Womb and the Womb was within Wuornos and the Womb was Wuornos. Wuornos wore the wound Womb of worn Woman.  Womb and Woman.  Womb woman. Womb and woman are wounds Wuornos and Whitread abjected and activated as an allutring alien Aletheia Amun.  Wuornos as Womb wearing Whiteread as Woman wounded waiting within twin tombs twin towers. 

Whiteread's white wet Twin Tombs arrived as always already attuned attainded Twin Tower torso trunks freshly frozen forever as a mesmerising memorial mourning mood meeting solidifying sedate sensationing shielding sheen shining as a housing holding hieratic Hyksos hymn hypogeum as Atum a tomb.  As an attuned Asherah, Athirat anxiety alien Aileen Wuornos was worn always already as Astarte wound womb bled bare on the outside-in imprisoned out-on through the inside-out on Being between being interstice and Alien outerstice of being born alien as a housed-homeless highway hooker hitching hijacking hijerking freeze framing face-to-face cunt-to-cock bullet-to-brain.  Alien Aileen was always already locked-in as locked-out as locked-up as an imprint imprisoned on the inside-out and at home imprison for being born always already homeless one can never be imprisoned since space does not exist for being alien as being always already thrown inside-out of the world for alien Aileen does not exist 'in space' but out-of-space out-of-time all the time even when alien Aileen was 'doing-time inside' alien Aileen was-is always already undoing time on the inside-out. How can one cast an alien abject abspace of an alien Aileen who never occupied, never owned, a privileged, private, space for alien Aileen never occupied a space in society, never occupied a space of the subject for alien Aileen negated space out of space time out of time even while doing time doing space, all the time out of time out of space: neither negative space nor positive space but being an abspace. As Asherah, Athirat anxiety activates a terrifying territory throwing alien Aileen over-off out-of-joint out-of-centre out-of-space out-of-time  so how would Whiteread cast Wuornos' wanderings without sutured spaces?  For frisson alien Aileen anxiety attacks activate freedom freeing fermenting fuelling joyous juicy jouissance justice castrating consciousness severing space mothering metaphysical mooding murdering monstrous men. Aileen was Anxiety - pure and simple. So how would wombless Whiteread cast Wuornos' alien abject abspace of the no-space of the no-place never occupied out of?  So how would Whiteread cast Wuornos' Anxiety of Being - that is: casting dark on the Uncanniness of Anxiety as being-thrown-out-of-the-world as attuning an angoisse anxiety attained as an abandoned abhorrent abject alien Aileen?  Aileen as an alien drifting Dasein does not Dwell: Dasein drifting is insular insecurity: Dasein does not Dwell Dasein Drifts. Dasein is Homelessness as a metaphysical mooding manoeuvre. To be a human being is t dwell: to be an alien being is to drift: drift wood, drift womb, drift world. The human being belongs to the world: the alien being does not belong to the world: the alien being does not belong. As alien Aileen does not Die as Aileen has no Ego so Aileen has no End. Altaric Alien Aileen as a dread Dasein drifter forges forth fort-da-dasein drive 'doing time' all the time out-of-time out-of-turn out-of-tune not in time

For frozen alien Aileen 'homelessness' is akin to 'imprisonment' both being the thrown same-difference of being locked-in-out-of-the-world where weeping space becomes utterly, radically, simply, purely, positively-negated!  Alien Aileen is not a 'woman of the home' but a 'whore of the highway' for there is no 'house' to 'come home to' - no dwelling Dasein but negotiating a nomadic nospace of a 'no woman's land' out-in off of outerstice-interstice of a nomadic 'no-man's land' hitch-hiking high-jacking from one no-place to another no-place from one no-space to another no-space 'taking men out' of being-in-the-world and returning them 'back home' to the atta house of alien being. For ailing Aileen then the House of Language is the Body of the Whore as the Dwelling Dasein open region where Man is 'finished off' delivered over to Death.  Alien Aileen as an attuned anxiety and altarity exodus exists exiled cast outside of the outcast nocturnally nomadic always already elsewhere always already elseother. Whiteread's homeless House houses Wuornos' houseless Home homing homicide hominoid homme homely. Heidegger houses Being as Anxiety and Anxiety as Homelessness, hommelessness. As acrid anxiety-adrift alien Aileen's 'homeless  hommeless heritage' humbly honours angoisse-anxiety as a sensation-state negating-nihilism by breaking-barriers between beings and aliens as an activated-anxiety negotiating-nothingness. The Nothing is Anxiety. Why is there Nothing rather than Something?

As angoisse Anxieting aletheia Aileen as a daring Dasein drifter arrives as an altaric abspace abpalce abtime 'at-a-distance' driving dripping Dasein droolings oozing  'out-of-it' off 'out-of-the-world' wound closely clearing caressing caring 'out-it-self' sensationing as an engaging engulfing encountering reeling regional remoteless removing dabbling dreary  Dasein adrift 'at-a-distance' dissolving 'being-with-others' by being with the other 'out-of-it'. As aletheia Aileen attunes as  aborted as 'living-in-anxiety' as 'living-out-anxiety' absorbed as a pure primordial projection disclosing delivering dwelling Dasein dazzling Alien again as a shape-shifting shining shuddering sensationing. 

As antediluvian Alien drooling Dasein dwells primarily primordially amidst ancient subterranean shuddering shimmering sensations shining as a raw radiant register of our dreading  Dasein's dazzling  doingnesses: 'unsettled' 'unhinged' 'unattached' 'undone'  as a withering wondering wombing wandering woozy Being Sensation as Absolute Knowledge. Absolute Knowledge is the Totality of Sensations of Being Time. But what is the Time Being of the Totality of Sensations of Absolute Knowledge? Absolute Knowledge is the Totality of Sensations of Being Time. If the Sensation of Knowledge is Time, what is the Sensation of Being? The Sensation of Being is Anxiety. The Sensation of Time is Boredom. The Sensation of Beingtime is The Nothing.  Anxiety and Boredom open out to The Nothing.  Death is the Shining of The Nothing as the Impossibility of Dying delivering the arrival of activated Alien Aura as an asserted Aletheia Afterlife as the abjected Afterbirth of The Un-Dead Philosopher becoming The Living-Dead of the Philosophy. Philosophy is being alien.

What is Being? Being is anxiety. That is: being-alien is being-anxiety. An alienual aletheia anxiety is the severed-sensation-state of alien-being out-of-the-world. The Metaphysical Truth of Being is Sensationed as an altaric Alien Anxiety as an aletheia Alertlness to-it-self out-it-self not being-at-home, not being-at-homme here but being thrown out-of-it out-of-the-world into the worn Woman womb-of-the-Nothing. Aileen is always already Anxious about the abjected Nothing that is Anxiety. Altaric Alien is Absolute Anxiety.

Aileen Anxieting as Being Nothing  - as Absolute Freedom from Femininity - drives Dasein into the Night of the Nothing.

Being alien is being anxious as being thrown out-of-it. Being out-of-it is being anxious. Be anxious  -  be out-of-it. Be alien.

When will Whiteread cast out our out cast Wuornos all wet as a Great White Shark? Wuornos wore the Great White's black stare of the no eyes that see into the no sea the nothing: Wuornos wore the Great White Shark's sublime smile and annihilating tearing teeth.

 

 

                                                                                                              

 

 

And Alien Created Woman. Wuornos  and Whiteread as ancient angoisse alien aletheia artists suspend space severe space off out of place partitioned as an abspace scape skin peeling pulling prising back and forth fort-da draping the shining skin scape of time as a castration concealment severing space out of sync out of joint out of time all the time, as an eternal return of the sensation of abspace. Alien Aileen is alien to severing servile 'sexual difference' as, for all aliens, there is only an 'alien difference' as also Lévinas leaks seeing 'sexual difference' as secondary to thrown atta 'alienual difference' as an 'ethical difference' as a 'radical responsibility' reeling real raw other of the other Other. Alien Aileen activated an atta alienual scent 'sensational difference' and not a secondary 'sexual difference' since sent atta Alien Aileen 'sensationed' off outside of sealed secondary 'sexualities'. As alien Antigone Becomes Aileen as Antigone Becomes Anunnaki as Aileen Becomes Alien as Arsinoe and both thrown through the burial of our brutally murdered menacing Men. Woman's womb defining difference (is the) being (of the) Alien's becoming as the Eternal Return of the other Sensationing as a Will to Sensation which is the Proto-Will to Power where 'sexual difference' Becomes beheaded 'sensational difference' severing sexuality wasting 'woman murdering man'. Alien Aileen was not a 'serial killer' but a 'serial sensationer' opening up the violent vivacious valves of shot sensation shining via throwing a radical violence as an Ereignis event of the end to the ego the murder of man as the arrival of the altaric abjected Aileen alien as a guest Geist Goddess gift giving grief reeling without return as a gift without a goal being beheaded before you: your alien Aileen activated as a Gift Geist as Aileen is Gift - and not - an I - that Gives - Aileen gives Death to Man. Aileen is actually the Gift that is Given taken by the Impossibility of Death: Alien Aileen's gift - death - annihilates and assassinates the very possibility of Death - the Gift is Death undone. Alien Aileen is death Daseien. Altaric Aileen announces the Death of Man. Alteric Aileen is not Mother but Other - A Black Widow - Aileen is not a Woman but an Omen offering an altaric afterlife beheaded before birth.

So suppose truth is a woman and woman does not exist?  Suppose woman is alien? Woman is alien to truth since truth is alien to woman. Suppose truth is alien?  Truth is alien. Alien is a way.  Alien is away. Alien is not at home in the world. As Dorothy Daseined: 'There's no place like home'. There is also no place like homme. Or as alien aletheia Heidegger homed:  "For there is a need for contemplation whether and how...there can still be such a thing as home."  (Martin Heidegger, letter to Bernhard Welte, May 22nd, 1976). As a bleak Black Widow weeps: "I want to go home" - there is no place like home. Here, where no one is at homme, Home is the monstrous Morgue mourning of the Memory of Philosophy where in which the Philosopher Lies as the Un Dead the After Birth the After Death the After Life where the Philosopher can never truly Live can never truly Die. The Philosopher is always already - abjected ahead of the being of being - neither never alive nor nether never dead - but being between being and non-being - being the living-dead - the un-dead. The Woman - as always already alien - remains remaindered remanded as the Philosopher away arriving and arising ahead - as the Philosopher to Come - ahead and after the End of Man - for Man no longer does Philosophy - for Man can no longer do Philosophy - for Woman - as for Philosophy - "There's no place like home."  There is no place like home because there is no place like the nothing.

There is no place like home there is only love like home for home is going home to the homme you love - to go home is to return to being with the one you love - going home is going home to being there with the being you love being together there being at home and dying is the coming home to being.                                                                                    

                                                                                                        

                                                                                                                                               

                                                                                            Squid Spunk Slither Stuff Self Portrait 1980 Alex Alien

 

 

                                                                                            

 

 

                                     Bacon & Lacy: Leaking Lamella Loss                               

 

                                                                             

                                                                                                                           Francis Bacon and Peter Lacy overlooking the Mediterranean

 

 

 

"I am looking for a cruel father."     

Bacon to Michael Wishart, Francis Bacon: His Life & Violent Times, A. Sinclair, 1993.

 

 

"When he's standing over me with a whip, what else can I do?"

Francis Bacon said of Peter Lacy, from Francis Bacon: His Life & Violent Times, A. Sinclair, 1993.

 

 

 

"Since works of art are sprung, for better or for worse, from fetishes - are artists to be blamed if their attitude to their products is slightly fetishistic?"

Theodor Adorno, Minima Moralia, 1951.

   

 

 

"Darling Francis was having his first show and Lacy was so blind drunk that they had a fearful row and Lacy slashed thirty of his canvases. Can you imagine! Yet Francis told me, 'You know, I rather enjoyed it.'...Francis was always being beaten up...Of course Francis asked for it. He must have enjoyed it  just as he enjoyed his lover slashing the pictures." 

David Herbert said of Francis Bacon, from The Gilded Gutter Life of Francis Bacon, Daniel Farson, Vintage, 1993.

            

 

 

"He told Allen Ginsberg that he had also once been offered a gambling stake for allowing himself to be whipped, with a bonus for every stroke that drew blood."

Ted Morgan said of Francis Bacon, from The Gilded Gutter Life of Francis Bacon,  Daniel Farson, Vintage, 1993.

 

 

 

"However much the subject strives to fulfil his desires, the economy of lack can never be satisfied. The lost object can never be found  because it is no longer an object; it is the condition of desire. Caught between what is experienced as loss and the illusions  of desire, the subject follows the plot  of its own fiction."

Mark Cousins, The Ugly, AA Files Number 28, Autumn 1994. 

 

 

 

"Does not the artist feel himself, amid the transports of creation, brutalized, 'working furiously'?  Indeed, is not such fury necessary to free oneself from confinement and the fury of confinement? Might not he very conciliatoriness of art have been bullied out of its destructiveness?... Every work of art is an uncommitted crime."

Theodor Adorno, Minima Morallia, 1951; Verso 1978.

 

 

 

"He could be whipped and physically abused, but by his toughness and intelligence he kept ultimate control. With Peter Lacy, he had lost it spectacularly. He could withstand the violence and the rows, the scenes which ended with him being beaten up, his clothes destroyed and his paintings slashed; there were sides of it he positively relished.  But he was kept, mentally as well as physically, in thrall: being less in love, Lacy seemed stronger and freer, and the pangs of sexual jealousy tormented Bacon as intensely as any Furies he had know."

Michael Peppiatt,  Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma, Westview Press, 1996.       

 

 

 

"You will always be lacking the object; a lack is not just an object of loss  - it is what Lacan calls the cause of desire...The fort-da game, then played by the infant, is, as it were, a kind of heroic but entirely fruitless commentary on the movement backwards and forwards but in which the lost object can never return, in which, in so far as I master anything, I master the reel and not the object which the reel was supposed to stand for...You will never know what the trauma was...The structure of the trauma is precisely that it is the unrepresentable and the damage is the consequence of  unrepresentability."

Mark Cousins,  Damage: Trauma & Loss, lecture  27th October, 1996  Architectural Association.

 

 

 

"He had a boyfriend - an ex-fighter pilot who, since Francis had got older and his tastes had changed, was younger than he was. He really fell in love with him. He was a rich fighter pilot, or certainly well off, and he was sadistic, which Francis liked. He knocked Francis about and beat him up. Once, when I saw Francis, one of his eyes was hanging out and he was covered in scars. I didn't really understand the relationship - after all, you don't. But I was so upset seeing him like this that I got hold of the pilot's collar and twisted it around. He would never have hit me because he was a 'gentleman' - do you see? - he would never get in a fight. The violence between them was a sexual thing. I didn't really understand all this. Anyway, I didn't talk to Francis for about three or four years after that. The truth is, Francis really minded about this man more than anyone."

Lucien Freud, On Francis Bacon; Sunday Telegraph, 24.09.2006.

 

                                   

 

"I must say most of the time Peter was terribly neurotic, even hysterical....Of course, he hated my painting right from the beginning and he said, 'You can leave your paintings and come and live with me.' And I said: 'What does living with you mean?' And he said: 'Well, you could live in a corner of my cottage on straw. You could sleep and shit there.'  He wanted to have me chained to the wall. Peter was kinky in all sorts of ways. He liked to have people  watching as we had sex. And then he liked to have to have someone bugger me, then bugger me himself right after. But he was so neurotic that living together would never have worked. "

Francis Bacon, Francis Bacon - Anatomy of an Enigma,  Michael Peppiatt,  Westview Press, 1996                                                                                                              

 

 

 

"In the beginning there is ruin. Ruin is that which happens to the image from the moment of the first gaze. Ruin is the self-portrait, this face looked at in the face as the memory of itself, what remains or returns as a specter from the moment one first looks at oneself and a figuration is eclipsed. The figure, the face, then sees its visibility being eaten away; loses its integrity without disintegrating...For one can just as well read pictures of ruins as figures of a portrait, indeed, of a self-portrait...The ruin does not supervene like an accident upon a monument that was intact only yesterday...The traits of a self-portrait are also those of a fascinated hunter. The staring eye always resembles an eye of the blind, sometimes the eye of the dead, at that precise moment when mourning begins: it is still open, a pious hand should soon come to close it; it would recall a portrait of the dying....Seeing the seeing and not the visible, is seeing nothing. This seeing eye sees itself blind."

Jacques Derrida, Memoirs of the Blind: The Self-Portrait and Other Ruins, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993.

 

 

        

 "The ruin, its invitation to you to experience it - is also an exclusion from it because the 'it' that you are excluded from is what it was before it was a ruin - in so far as I am a ruin - you can enjoy me - but you should a have been here before me....What is one doing in calculating a ruin? The ruin is the kind of memorial to the fact that you were always too late to make any difference... One of the things that the ruin has done is to become bigger than itself - the proposition that - let's put forward the hypothesis: that all ruins are bigger than what they were before they were ruined. Now one of the reasons why ruins are illogically bigger than what they had been before - given that the have now lost a lot of structure - you might ask: how did they get bigger? It is because the question of the inside and the outside is now intensified... An object always exists twice: that is to say;  it exists as its self as its existence and it exists as a representation of itself;  -  we can construe a chair as both itself and a representation of itself...The representation of the chair has to be bigger than its existence otherwise it will leak; that's why we worry about things that leak. Every time there is a leak - what is happening - why we're so upset - is because the regime of existence is threatening the entire regime of representation - I mean: if this could happen so much else could... By then a definition of a ruin is an object where certain bits of what had been inside of an object are -as it were - exposed and in being exposed give rise to a whole set of fantasies and questions which undermine the otherwise clear distinction of what is inside, what is outside, of what is representation, of what is existence -  and we're left with 'stuff'  that we don't know whether it belongs to the order of existence or the order of representation. if you think about ruins  - where this is most obviously the case - there is a kind of hanging in certainty as to what the status of 'stuff' is. Perhaps has something monstrous about it... Perhaps in a sense our relation of desire to the ruin is that we might find in our own ruin something of the capacity to exist and actually to exist more. Could we not actually become kind of suddenly open to the sky.  Could we not have limbs where you couldn't tell?"

Mark Cousins, Ruin: Damage, Architectural Association, 24.6.1996.                                                                        

 

                                                                 

                                                                                                                        

                                                                                                                                             Study for Portrait of P. L.  1962  Francis Bacon

                                                                                                                                                                                      

 

        Bacon's Study for Portrait of Peter Lacy1962 records Lacy's nailing neurotic nerves of being on the edge of not being there trapping the thrown trauma of our being thrown through leaked lamella love lost. As a Thrown Trauma activated ahead of being dead - as Bacon's Throwing Paint at the Canvas - becomes the mutated moment memory trace there of lost love like loose Lacy's wild Whipping at the Skin on Bacon's back and Bacon always used the Back of the Canvas to paint on to pain on: was Bacon's back the back of the canvas becoming the rough rhino skin whose tough textures tingled his neurotic nerves? Where Canvas as a Skin leaves leached love as a scar slash bleeding being-there through poignant paint. There the memory trace as a wound whiplash becomes being-there through thrown paint as a register of pain or a record of 'brute fact' as Bacon bled.  Lover lost lamella Lacy's leached wound whipping weals - as an Imprint Implant on brave Bacon's Back - become there the broken body's mourning-memory trace-there of the paining-beingory of our bereaved brute being-not-being-there anymore. Bacon's white whiplash of pure  paint pertains to the pain-of-being-there left like Lacy's leashing leaving its lack its mark its imprint its force forever branded becoming memorialised meat of being not there.  Bacon's Study for Portrait of Peter Lacy 1963 poignantly punctuates the pain-paint body-barrier with its dark discs which nail the nerves like timpani thwacks: one of his most powerful paintings but perversely never reproduced in any of the current coffee table Bacon books.  Contrary to sly Sylvester to claim otherwise Bacon's best paintings were painted between 1960 and 1967:  Head of a Boy 1960, Head (Man in Blue) 1961, Head 1962, Seated Figure on Couch 1962, Figure on a couch 1962, Turning Figure 1962, Three Studies for a Crucifixion 1962, Study from Portrait of Pope Innocent X 1963,  Study for Portrait of Peter Lacy 1963, Study from Portrait of Pope Innocent X 1965, Three Studies for a Portrait of Muriel Belcher 1966, Portrait of Lucien Freud 1967, and the  full-length Portrait of Lucien Freud 1968 (which sportss a wonderful whip of white paint looking like splattered spunk spirit flying by his foot). Just as the memory-trace of pain-inflicted on Bacon's ruined body leaked forth from his alien-being so his alien-paint became lacklustre and leakless lazy and easy with the paint becoming pissy etiolated watered down and  thinned-out tame and inanely illustrational: By the 1980s Bacon's pissy paint becomes so soft safe smooth and streamlined. It was when Bacon had no 'formula' no 'technique' when he 'didn't know how to do it' -did Bacon paint best but when Bacon knew 'how to do it' - Bacon couldn't do it: Bacon became processed paint - painting-by-numbers - not painting-by-blunders - and by the time of Dyer's demise so too Bacon died of painting. Bacon's last real paint-ing-pain-ted was Triptych May - June 1973 where in the far-right panel the last dice of Dyer are thrown forth far away and ahead as pain and paint parted together to forever free parted painted torn together there as a lamella leak love left like leaving Lacy's legacy left as a  love lost left off the joint out of joint jointing time there together to Dyer's dying of Bacon's being-in love-with-being-not-there anymore. Bacon painted best when being-in-love-with-being-not-there anymore where the legacy of the lost love for Lacy and the lost love for Dyer birthed Bacon's best art-there.

        Bacon's Fort-da-Froth -  (like Turner's Spume)  - as the Eternal Return of the Spunk Sensation - is indeed that that slime spunk 'stuff ' which wet inking is the leaking trail snail substance of the soiled stained subconscious sewer.  Because the 'trauma' and 'unconscious' - that 'subconscious' sea-inside-us - cannot be 'represented' - ( 'illustrated')  - Rembrandt, Turner, Van Gogh, Monet, Bacon and Alien 'present' us the unconscious via an (ab)use of organic ontological-oozed oil paint thus nailing and navigationg  the spume-stuff - the spunk-stuff - the spirit-stuff: the thrown-forth froth-stuff that sits on his coffee as Sigmund Freud smokes his cigar letting the Thrown Fort-Da  trail-rings of smoke begin to form his thought for smoking is a subconsciousing.  Freud's smoke is the smaze of his subconscious stuff for the subconscious is structured like a smaze. Peter Lacy Threw Bacon's paintings out the window after Slashing them.  Lacy loved Slashing Spunking and Shitting on Bacon's cunting canvas and severed skin. Lacy left his toilet-tray turd trade-mark branded on Bacon's back ('Best Back Bacon'): Lacy left lashes on brave Bacon's Back which left their mutant mark on the 'back' of  Bacon's Serial  Canvases and Serial Traumas tracing serial subconscious sensations.  Bacon bred his Beaten-Up Body-in-Ruins as a Trauma Trace mourning-memorial for activating abjected abimages ahead all over you all.  Lacy treated tart Bacon like a Cunt like a Shit and Shat on the Cunt and Beat the Cunt up and Bacon got off on being beaten to a pulp and then very carefully caressing the purple plum mauve maroon of the beautiful bruises for future self portraits. Lacy 'leaked' his lamella-loss dasein-drool slurp-stuff all over Bacon's bruised and 'ruined' Shit-Cunt-Fuck-Face.  Lacy literally 'beat-the-shit' out of Bacon and Bacon beat the shit out of oil paint tuning his turds with turpentine and shitting them on to the raw arse 'back side' of  the cunting canvas letting the luminous liquid droll drool stuff slurp out at you always already reminding you of your own puss-piss-shit-spunk-saliva-slime-stuffs that you wish you could wipe away.  Bacon pulled at the cord of chaos switching on the chord valves of violent paint-spunk sensationing in illuminating the thrown black bulb on off off on of as an alien aura awe entrapment endlessly emitting electric eggoistentialism.  Layabout Lacy leaked light licked white whipped dripping double cream cum end egg whip whites oozed over boiled Bacon's eggo egger entrails encapsulate erogenous erubescent erupt Ereignis erection enabling effective effusive elastic Egyptian élan electriceidetic ejaculated expenditure executed delivering drunk discharge dépense dasein discord dangling cord claw clenched let lit left light on-off as a sein switched on of-being-off when lit-light-left-on being-lit lifts-off.

      Bulbous Bacon's fort-da delight of pulling of the light cord becomes discord throwing light into the dark of the day and light of the night where pulling becomes a throwing and retrieving and a letting go as a letting be of becoming dark as light as light as dark where the bulb becomes black but leaks light.  Bacon's bruised  beaten body - as a 'ruin' - is 'larger than life' breaking down the barrier between what constitutes the  'inside' and  the 'outside' opening up the body to the sky sea sleep of being bled bare there.  Lacy slashed the surfaces of Bacons bruised skin making marks of crimson navy blue lime green red magenta. By treating the severed  'head' as bust', the severed  'body as torso'; that is, treating  the body as a  'classical ruin',  Bacon breaks body thrown open torn apart losing 'line' or 'contour' breaking down the 'barrier' between the skinned-skin of the sewn 'subject' which is always already the eggoed-object;: the bled 'background' barrier bleeds the 'subject' as its shadow-lamella: where the sow-shadow itself displaces drains the soiled severed subject; where the 'background' is always already the subject-as-object 'in-out- itself': that opaque oily opal bland being bled-in in smudge-space and a snail-slime where wet the thrown leaking lamella oozes out-itself remains rotting through the thrown raw real remains leg loin left-overs ointment oozed oils only as ab-eggo emptying ellipse emaciated  embraced emulated entrails leaking light bulb pulling pulse claw cord corduroy trousers torn tear sweaters sweating sleeves slashed soiled socks soaked switching socket off on off on on off off on fort da fuck in out in out in out out in out where the distinction and stinction and extinction between semen and space is soaked and shattered and shuttered in blackness where the shape and smell and sound of the semen and blackness is blurred where the blackness of the bulb lights up the darkness of the semen where the thrown shot semen becomes a black white lightening strike slash shattering the bright blackness to dark whiteness where there are no backgrounds in Bacon but black spaces breeding bled semen spunkning spilling out over eggo edge: being is not grounded but out-grounded out of place out of space out of time: be-ing it is the ab-ground of the ab-it by be-ing out-of-it as an ab-being for the being of the nothing that is there and in with the no-thing of the no-one of the no-ground that is the nothing that is there shining ahead as the dark lighting lit there. 

 

 

                                                                                                                     

                                                                                                                                                 Study for Portrait of  P. L.  1964  Francis Bacon  

                                                                                          

                                                     

         After the tragic death of Dyer mourning Bacon became bored with painting and died of painting falling back into the slack easy laziness of inane illustration.  By the 1980s Bacon became a bacon factory producing pristine processed pre-packaged Bacons: - sterile smooth streamlined and stripped of sensation - which was not even best back bacon: all it lacked was the logo Danish stamped all over it.  As Peppiatt puts it: "Several of Bacon's most perceptive admirers believed that the later work lacked the daring and spontaneity which had drawn them to his painting in the first half of his career. The writer John Richardson put it succinctly: 'What I liked most was when Bacon was painting like Beau Brummell tying cravats - discarding one after another until something perfect and fresh came about. When he found painting difficult, the pictures were good. But once he knew how to do it and had all the technical ability, he started repeating himself,' (Interview November: 1993 New York)..."

        Lacy literally left his mark on Bacon's Skin and Bacon left Lacy's leaked mark on the Canvas.  Bacon said: "But people go to bars to be closer to each other. The frustration is that people can never be close enough to each other.  If you're in love you can't break down the barriers of the skin." (Andrew Sinclair, Francis Bacon: His Life & Violent Times,  1993). Yet Bacon's skin was bled bare, a barrier broken by Lacy's Whip. Indeed, Bacon broke down the barriers of the Skin of his Canvas breaking down the barrier between the 'inside' and the 'outside'; between the 'human' and 'alien'. In Bacon the body barriers are blurred  and butchered - the scarred skin grafted and grazed - glazed and grained - sounding something like the timpanist roll and thwack: nailing the skin - nailing the spine - nailing the nerves - imprinting being-there.

        It is instead the leaking leg Legacy of Lacy (not dreary Dyer) that made boiled Bacon produce his most powerful, penetrating, punctuating and poignant pictures. What fried Bacon found in Lacy was the Farther that never Fucked him: the Violence of the Father was Found in the Violence of Lacy.  Bacon was Fucked by his Father through Lacy.  Lacy became Bacon's Trauma. Bacon painted the smell and slither sensation of fort/da fucking outside illustrating the anal act.  Regarding his Two Figures 1953, Bacon said to Daniel Farson: "I put two men naked on a bed. If they grapple with one another, why shouldn't they? I didn't show one putting a cock up the other's arse - I didn't think of anything like that! Comprendo?" (July 14, 1989, Finnish Television, from The Gilded Gutter Life of Francis Bacon, Vintage 1993).  

        Lacy - Dyer - Edwards were mourning monuments - walking wounded - waiting a while to be ruined and killed off by Bacon's kindness: the moment Bacon courted and cornered and caged Lacy - Dyer - Edwards - Bacon set the scene for the slaughter of being-there for the abimage-being-their which would surpass their dasein and death.  Lacy was always already an auto-ruin and Bacon buried-him in his-ruin. Bacon initiated and installed the rite of ruin in Dyer and Edwards by giving them enough money to ruin themselves: Bacon ruined the things he loved and painted the things he killed: killing through kinky kindness: killing through the dice that dices with death: Bacon the dice-dealer Bacon the death-dealer: Bacon killed Lacy - Bacon killed Dyer - Bacon killed Edwards - because Bacon killed the things he loved.

 

                                                                                         

                                                                                                                          

                                                                                                                                                      Study for portrait of P.L. from photographs   1963   Francis Bacon  

 

 

Francis Bacon on Peter Lacy:

    "I'd known lots of people before but, even though I was over forty when I met Peter, I'd never really fallen in love with anyone until then. What Peter really liked was young boys.  He was actually younger than me, but he didn't seem to realize it. It was a kind of mistake that he went with me at all.  Of course, it was a most total disaster from the start. Being in love in that extreme way - being totally, physically obsessed by someone - is like having some dreadful disease. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. He was marvellous-looking, you see. He had this extraordinary physique - even his calves were beautiful. And he could be wonderful company. He played the piano marvellously and he had a real kind of natural wit, coming up with one amusing remark after another, just like that - unlike those dreadful bores who plan from morning to night what they're going to say."

      "Peter had been very tough when I first knew him. He was really tough, tougher than me. Then he fell for this Moroccan boy, and after he went to Tangier he lost that toughness. I think it had some thing to do with Arab men. He had also always been the most terrible kind of drunk, but by this time he was completely out of control. The boy had left him and so on. Anyway, he said he never wanted to see me again - at one point he told me I had ruined his life by making him think about himself. Then one day he just telephoned and said, 'from now on, consider me dead. Consider me dead!' And I was very upset, because I had been deeply fond of him. And then much later, for some reason, he sent this telegram asking me to go out and stay with him again in Tangier. It was all over between us, but like a fool I went. Peter wasn't there when I arrived. Of course. But there was this Arab boy, it sounds perfectly mad, but he was sitting up in a fig tree in the courtyard and he asked whether he could pick the figs. I said yes, certainly he could. And in the end he climbed in through the window, and he was terribly good-looking. Then Peter came back, I'm afraid, and found us both in bed, and he got so absolutely mad he went round and broke every single thing in the place. Even though there was nothing between us any more. I had to go out and try and spend the night on the beach. By that time Peter was drinking three bottles of whiskey a day, which no one can take. He was killing himself with drink. He set out to do it, like suicide, and I think in the end his pancreas simply exploded. Anyway, after that disastrous trip, I had no news of him until the day the exhibition of mine opened at the Tate Gallery (1962) and, along with all the other telegrams, I got this one saying he had just died."

 

                                                Being Animal

 

                                                                                                                                    

                                                                                                                                            Francis Bacon in Vogue 1952 by John Deakin 

 

"Well, of course, we are meat, we are potential carcasses. If I go into a butcher's shop I always think it's surprising that I wasn't there instead of the animal.

Francis Bacon, Interview with David Sylvester, 1965

 

                                                                                                                                                                                  .

                                                                                                                                                                                                             Figure with Meat  1954  Francis Bacon

 

"I look at a chop on a plate, and it means death to me. I would like some day to trap a moment of life in its full violence, its full beauty. That would be the ultimate painting."

Francis Bacon, "Distort into Reality", TIME, June 8, 1962.

 

                                                                                                                              

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Head I 1948 Francis Bacon

       

"Bacon was an apolitical, good-for-nothing gambler with no principles to blind him to reality. And that is why it fell to him to acknowledge the real meaning of the atrocities whose photographic evidence appeared all over the world with the defeat of Germany. At the time he painted Head I, in 1948, 'responsible' people were busy separating the depravities of Auschwitz from accounts of mass murder inside the USSR. Humanism was still the watchword of the left. So here, in Bacon's appalling painting, is what he thought of humanism: a disintegrated face fused with the baying head of a baboon. There is little point in wallowing in the brilliance of Bacon if you don't recognise him as a moralist first and last. The way Head I is painted brings me out in goosebumps: the pleasure of this horror is immense. A matted blackness, a congealed, cloacal texture of extruded pigments, creates the picture's claustrophobia. The thin transparent veil of purple flesh that hangs in this darkness seems caught at the moment of explosion, in the instant it evaporates... We must learn to love the mortal monkey. What is the alternative? "

Jonathan Jones, The beast within; The Guardian, Tuesday August 9, 2005.

 

                                                                                                                                     

                                                                                                                                                 Pope and Chimpanzee 1962 Francis Bacon 

 

"Many of Bacon's canvases depict scenes of mutilation, humiliation and terror... Looking at some of these dissected bodies, one could be reminded of one of H. G. Wells' less familiar novels, The Island of Doctor Moreau... He has this urge to slice into the flesh of various animals, Primates, Equidae, Felidae, without the benefit of anaesthesia, to modify their form and features. Excruciating pain is the price they pay as, little by little, he lends them a quasi-human appearance. And not just an appearance. For these animals, these tragic human caricatures, begin to speak. They even invent a religion and worship the divine Dr Moreau, who, through his acts of cruelty, has 'made them into his image...' .. Dr Moreau tortured animals to reshape them in his image. In Bacon's paintings it is the very image of man which is taken apart, and its bleeding flesh brought up from the 'depths' and laid before one... The suffering victim in these works is not Bacon alone, but man in his essence - man who has wandered, unaware, into an uncommendable road, utterly unsuited to his needs."

Michael Gibson, A Question of Terror; Bacon - A  Special Issue of Connaissance des Arts, 1996.

 

                                                                                                                            

                                                                                                                                     Figure with Monkey1951 Francis Bacon  

 

"If you go to some of those great stores, where you just go through those great halls of death, you can see meat and fish and birds and everything else all lying dead there. And, of course, one has got to remember as a painter that there is this great beauty of the colour of meat."

Francis Bacon, Interview with David Sylvester, 1965.

 

                                                                                                                                      

                                                                                                                                                       Head 1949 (Man & Monkey) Francis Bacon

 

"This Byronic aspect to his nature had something to do with a complete absence of sentimentality, a recklessness, a bleak rationality, an awareness that his lack of religious faith was in itself despair and also an intense animalism. The animalism was the first thing one felt on meeting him, a palpable magnetic field. He wanted to conduct this nervous energy into his painting, to vent its expressive power. On one occasion I was standing close behind him when an artist he disliked entered the room. Immediately he stiffened, bristled, became alert as a dog. It was the only time I have witnessed the hairs stand up on the back of a human neck. No fight ensued, or hostile conversation. It was more menacing than that. As a younger man he must have been capable of being quite terrifying..."

John McEwan, Francis Bacon, The Sunday Telegraph,  3rd May, 1992.

 

                                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                                                   Paralytic Child Walking on all Fours 1961 Francis Bacon

 

"It's an acknowledged paradox of art history that World War II had a muted impact on the art that followed. Maybe the devastation was too great for mere art to absorb. Only a few postwar artists did work that seemed to carry forward the trauma of the conflict or remember its lessons about the beast just below the surface of civilized man. Of those who did, the greatest was the Anglo-Irish painter Francis Bacon, one of the few artists of his time to produce work that aimed to possess — that did possess — a tragic dimension... Bacon's canvases show us a world ruled by force and ravenous appetite, a place where men bare their fangs, suffer and die. To create this world required Bacon to dismantle the classical nude and to offer in its place a human anatomy broken and deformed, faces smeared into something just barely recognizable as human. His purpose, he once explained, was 'to make the animal thing come through the human.' Which he did."

Richard Lacayo, Francis Bacon, TIME,  Oct. 24, 2006.

 

                                                                                                                     

                                                                                                                                                                                              Study of a Baboon 1953 Francis Bacon

 

"The human beings in Bacon's pictures seem half-animal, or half-reptilian. Sometimes they have the whiteness of death; sometimes they are white and red, like joints of meat...He wants to make the animal come through the human being; and he wants the paint itself to carry its own implications..."

Francis BaconThe Observer Profile, The Observer Weekend Review, Sunday, 27th May, 1962.

 

                                                                                                                                                  

                                                                                                                                                                                                       Study for Dog 1952  Francis Bacon

 

“What happens is that an animal, a real dog for example, is outlined as the shadow of its master; or conversely the shadow of the man assumes an autonomous and unspecified animal existence. The shadow escapes from the body like an animal to which we give shelter. Instead of formal correspondences, what Bacon's painting constitutes is a zone of the indiscernible, of the undecidable, between man and animal. Man becomes animal, but he does not become so without the animal simultaneously becoming spirit, the spirit of man, the physical spirit of man presented in the mirror as Eumenides or fate.”

 Gilles Deleuze, Body, Meat and Spirit, Becoming-Animal; Francis Bacon: The Logic of sensation, 1981.

 

 

                                                                                                                   

                                                                                                                                                                                                     Man with Dog 1953, Francis Bacon

 

"Far from being 'treated as the shadow of its master', the dog in Man with Dog has held its form almost exactly from the previous year's Dog paintings. together they trace the movement, a line of flight, in their own constitution of the figure of the dog. In sloughing the adjacent human form this last dog could even be viewed - if Bacon's work is to be treated, somewhat cavalierly, as a repository of proto-Deleuzian becoming-animal - as the the figure of the anomalous animal with which the man has struck an alliance, leaving behind his human 'form' as no more than a hazy shadow as he is swept up into becoming-animal."

Steve Baker, The Form of Bacon's Animals; The Postmodern Animal, Reaktion Books, 2000.

 

                                                                                                                                

                                                                                                                                             Study for Chimpanzee 1955 Francis Bacon 

 

"Bacon was and remains a surrealist, an unrepentant irrationalist. But whereas others of that strain turned to Freud and to the dream world of the unconscious mind, Bacon reverts with a vengeance to Darwin and to the jungles of instinct. Whereas the other surrealists never lost their grounding in the man-made world, Bacon voids his paintings of most human traces, filling them with shrieking gibbons, salivating dogs, and subhuman apemen cast against a chillingly blank field... For Bacon there is no end. That wailing, bitter, gnashing, self-consuming is the sound of life itself. All other sounds are lies."

James Gardner, Eminent outrage - British painter Francis Bacon, National Review, August 6th, 1990.

 

                                                                                                                               

                                                                                                                                                  Skull of a Gorilla 1957 Francis Bacon

 

"There's a picture of a screaming chimpanzee - a simian form with bared mouth - that goes to the core of Bacon's work. If you then look at Head 1 from 1948 and Head 2 from 1949, say, both are half-animal, half human, as if morphing between forms. There was no difference to Bacon. He knew humans were animals: primal and confrontational. You see it also in his figures of screaming popes. He always saw the animal in man, even in in the supreme  pontiff. There's that ambiguity with Bacon:  you don't know if you're witnessing a scream of pain, anger or release. I think probably that's why Bacon was such a great artist.."

Michael Peppiatt, Great British Bacon, Radio Times, 19-25 March, 2005.

 

 

                                                                                                             

                                                                                                                                           Study for Chimpanzee 1957 Francis Bacon 

 

"Two naked figures, faces obscenely eroded by electric-blue shadows, sprawl on a bed. A man huddles like a baboon on the edge of what might be a swing, a coffee table or a hangman's drop. A Pope howls silently behind glass...There is little need to say who painted them. At 62, Francis Bacon is one of the most immediately recognizable painters in the world... 'One of the problems is to paint like Velasquez, but with the texture of hippopotamus skin,' he once remarked. And he does. Structure emerges from the tracks of the looping brush as though naturalism were being reinvented. The result is that Bacon's distortions have a unique kind of anatomical conviction."

Robert Hughes, Out of the Black Hole, TIME,  Dec. 13, 1971.

 

                                                                                                        

                                                                                                                                          Study for a Running Dog 1954 Francis Bacon 

 

"Flesh and meat are life! If I paint red meat as I paint bodies it is just because I find it very beautiful. I don’t think anyone has ever really understood that. Ham, pigs, tongues, sides of beef seen in the butcher’s window, all that death, I find it very beautiful. And it’s all for sale how unbelievably surrealistic! I often imagine that the accident that made man into the animal he has become also happened to other animals lions or hyenas for example while man remained a primate. What would have happened? It’s bizarre, I have never read anything about it, by Darwin or anyone else. Perhaps it’s science fiction, but it’s very interesting. I imagine men hanging in butcher’s shops for hyenas, who would be dressed in fur coats. The men would be hung by their feet, or cut up for stew or kebabs. We are all meat. All the inhabitants of this planet are made of meat. And most of them are carnivores. And when you fuck, it’s a piece of meat penetrating another piece of meat. There is no difference between our meat and the meat of an ox or an elephant."

Francis Bacon, Exclusive Interview with Francis Bacon, 1991-2, The Art Newspaper, June 2003.

 

 

                                                                                                                                      Being & Fucking

                       

                                                                                                                                                   

                                                                                                                                            Two Figures Fucking 195 Francis Bacon

 

 

 

“Fuck that Thing!”

Alien 3, David Fincher, 1992.

 

 

 

 

“ God's in, I'm out.”

Meister Eckhart (c.1260-1328)

 

 

 

 

Woman does not exist.

Jacques Lacan, Seminar 197-1971.

 

 

 

 

All is flux, nothing stays still.

Heraclitus, Fragment  (535 - 475 BC).

 

 

 

 

Sex is God's joke on human beings.”  

Bette Davis (1908–1989).

 

 

 

 


The desert of the Godhead where no one is at home.

Meister Eckhart (c.1260-1328)

 

 

 

 

By nature all men are equal in liberty, but not in other endowments.

Saint Thomas Aquinas  (1225-1274).

 

 

 

 

Man is most dishonest in relation to his god: he is not permitted to sin!

Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good & Evil, 1886.

 

 

 

 

It is there, in the priority of the other man over me that... God comes to mind.

Emmanuel Lévinas, Interview with Roger-Pol Droit, Le Monde, 2 June 1992. 

 

 

 

 

People are being duplicated. And once it's happened to you, you're part of this thing.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Philip Kaufman, 1978.

 

 

 

 

“Will itself cannot be willed...Willing is a kind of desiring and striving. The Greeks call it orexis.

Martin Heidegger, Nietzsche:Volume 1 & 2, Harper San Francisco, 1991.

 

 

 

 

“Willing: a compelling feeling, quite pleasant! It is the epiphenomenon of all discharge of energy.

Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900).

 

 

 

 

“I spread your naked thighs - and your slit is offered - I foresee the coming - of a lonesome - anxiety.

Georges Bataille, Divine Filth, Creation Books, 2004.

 

 

 

 

Is it not precisely longing that proves the human being to be Other, other than a mere human being?

Martin Heidegger, Schelling's Treatise on the Essence of Human Freedom, Ohio University Press, 1985.

 

 

 

 

“When I had come into being, being came into being, and all beings came into being, after I came into being." 

Amun; Papyrus, Early Ptolemaic Period - after Lesko 1991.

 

 

 

 

 

Only a being endowed with organs can conceive a technical finality, a relation between the end and the tool.?"

Emmanuel Lévinas, The Dwelling; Totality and Infinity, Duquesne University 1969.

 

 

 

 

 

 We describe as 'traumatic' any excitations from outside which are powerful enough to break through the protective shield.

Sigmund Freud, 1920 (1856-1839).

 

 

 

 

The devil has the widest perspective for God; that's why he keeps himself so far away from Him, for the devil is the oldest friend of knowledge.

Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good & Evil, 1886.

 

 

 

 

“I would have liked Hegel and Heidegger to speak about their sex lives...it is something they never spoke about, they always kept their personal lives out of their texts.”

Jacques Derrida, Derrida; Kirby Dick, Amy Ziering Kofman, 2002.

 

 

 

 

“According to Heidegger, each age has one issue to think through, and one only. Sexual difference is probably the issue in our time which could be our 'salvation' if we thought it through.”

Luce Irigaray, An Ethics of Sexual Difference, Cornell University Press, 1993.

 

 

 

 

“The lustful man intends not human generation but venereal pleasures. It is possible to have this without those acts from which human generation follows: and it is that which is sought in the unnatural vice.

Saint Thomas Aquinas, Whether the unnatural vice is a species of lust? - Summa Theologica II-II, 154, 11; 1266 - 1273.

 

 

 

 

“Death in Heidegger is an event of freedom, whereas for me the subject seems to reach the limit of the possible in suffering.  It finds itself enchained, overwhelmed, and in some way passive.”

Emmanuel Lévinas, Time and the Other (1946/7).

 

 

 

I want to bring about a different relationship, in which you say, 'Dear God, I would like to have a conversation with You.'  Instead of submission, you get a relationship of dialogue. Let's just assume it's possible.

Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Danger woman, The Gaurdian, Tuesday May 17, 2005.

 

 

 

"Coming here makes the one who comes belong to dispersal, to the fissure where the exterior is the intrusion that stifles, but is also nakedness, the chill of the enclosure that leaves one utterly exposed. Here the only space is vigorous separation. Here fascination reigns.”

Maurice Blanchot, The Fascination of Time's Absence; The Essential Solitude; The Space of Literature,  University of Nebraska Press,  1982.

 

 

 

Peaks of silver shine silently above, And the sparkling snow is full of roses. Still higher above the light lives the god, pure And holy, pleased with the divine play of light beams. He lives there quietly and alone: his face is bright... Down into the deep his influence extends: it Reveals and illumines, just as he pleases.

Friedrich Hölderlin, The Homecoming; to my Kinsfolk, 1801. 

 

 

 

“The bodily [element] in the human is not something animalistic. The manner of understanding that accompanies it is something that metaphysics up till now has not touched on... Can one isolate the dark understanding, which the bodily belonging to the earth determines, from being placed in the clearing?”

Martin Heidegger,  Heraclitus Seminar, 1966-1967.

 

 

 

“We should be surprised that a matter that generally plays such an important part in the life of man has hitherto been almost entirely disregarded by philosophers, and lies before us as raw and untreated material.”

Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860).

 

 

 

That is why we fly from the inner void, since God might steal into it. It is not the pursuit of pleasure and the aversion for effort which causes sin, but fear of God. We know that we cannot see him face to face without dying, and we do not want to die.

Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace, New York, G. P. Putnam & Sons, 1952.

 

 

 

“What presents itself to the individual consciousness as sexual impulse in general, and without being directed towards a specific individual of the opposite sex, is, in itself and over and above the phenomenon, simply the will to life.”

Arthur Schopenhauer, On the Metaphysics of Sexual Love; The World as Will and Idea, Everyman 1995.

 

 

 

"Unegoistic! -  This one is hollow and wants to be full, that one is overfull and wants to be emptied - both go in search of an individual who will serve their purpose. And this process, understood in its highest sense, is in both cases called by the same word: love."

Friedrich Nietzsche, Daybreak; 145, 1881.

 

 

 

“The I is, to be sure, happiness, presence at home with itself.  But, as sufficiency in its non-sufficiency, it remains in the non-I; it is enjoyment of ‘something else,' never of itself.  Autochthonous, that is, rooted in what it is not, it is nevertheless, within this enrootedness independent and separated.”

Emmanuel Lévinas, Totality & Infinity, Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press, 1969.

 

 

 


“Being as venture is the relation of flinging loose, and thus retains in the flinging even what has been ventured...Venture includes flinging into danger. To dare is to risk the game... If that which has been flung were to remain out of danger, it would not have been ventured. It would not be in danger if it were shielded.”

Martin Heidegger, Poetry, Language, Thought, Harper & Row, 1971.

 

 

 

How can you be satisfied? Because everything escapes you, you know that perfectly well. You know, even if you're in love with somebody, everything escapes you. You would want to be nearer that person - how can you cut your flesh open and join it with the other person - it is an impossibility to do - so it is with art. It is almost like a long affair with objects and images and sensations and what you can call the passions. It is very much like that. You may love somebody very much, but how near can you get to them? You're still always unfortunately sort of strangers.”

Francis Bacon, Bacon's Arena, Adam Low, BBC 2, 2005.

 

 

 

“During  the time that motion is being perceived, a grasping-as-now takes place moment by moment; and in this grasping, the actually present phase of the motion itself becomes constituted. But this now apprehension is, as it were, the head attached to the comet's tail of retentions relating to the earlier now-points of the motion.”

Edmund Husserl, On the Phenomenology of the Consciousness of Internal Time (1893 - 1917); 1991. 

Can one not hear in this “Where were you?” a statement of

 

 

Sex is what it is, isn't it? Sex is what it is: it's the moment of ecstasy - if you like the person or if you don't even like them - but it's really the moment of coming isn't it? -  of coming off... I put two men naked on a bed. If they grapple with one another, why shouldn't they? I didn't show one putting a cock up the other's arse - I didn't think of anything like that! Comprendo?"

Francis Bacon to Daniel Farson, Finnish TV: 14 July, 1989.

 

 

 

"A Fucking is not a Repeating for our Fucking is Why every Act is not a Repetition for fucking cannot be repeated since the Sensation is never the Same since the Time is never the Same and so the Act is Never the Same so No Act is ever the Same so there can Never be the Repetition of any Act for every time I Fuck I achieve a Fullness of a unique Being-Infinite as a unique Infinite-Jouissance."

 Alexander Verney-Elliott, Being & Alien, 2011.

 

 

 

“Narrow bands dividing us, fall away! Sacrifice alone is the heart's true way! I expand myself to you, as you to me. May what isolates us go up in fire, cease to be. For life is only as reciprocated, By love in love is it alone created. To the kindred soul abandoned, The heart opens up in strength gladdened. Once the spirit atop free mountains have flown, It holds back nothing of its own. Living to see myself in you, and you to see yourself in me, In the enjoyment of celestial bliss shall we be.

G.W.F Hegel, Stanzas to Marie von Tucher, April 13, 1811.; The Letters, Indiana University Press, 1984.

 

 

 

“The clearing belonging to the essence of Being suddenly clears itself and lights up. This sudden self-lighting is the lightning flash. It brings itself into its own brightness, which in itself both brings along and brings in....The truth of Being flashes, the essence of Being lights itself up... Only when man in the disclosing coming-to-pass of the insight by which he himself is beheld, renounces human self-will and projects himself that insight, away from himself, does he correspond in his essence to the claim of that insight. In this corresponding man is gathered into his own that he, within the safeguard element of the world may, as the mortal, look out towards the divine.”

Martin Heidegger, The Question concerning Technology, 1954.

 

 

 

"What is the sexual life of Hegel or Heidegger?  Because it’s not something they talk about, it’s what they don’t talk about. I want to hear what they don’t talk about. Why did these philosophers present themselves as asexual?  Why did they erase their private lives from their work? Or why didn’t they ever refer to their private lives?  When I say sex life, I mean private life. There’s nothing more important in private life than love or relationships. I’m not talking about making a porno film about Hegel or Heidegger. I want them to speak about the part that love plays in their lives. We know some things about Hegel or Heidegger but not through them. And I’d like to hear them to speak about this."

Jacques Derrida, Derrida, Kirby Dick, 2002.

 

 

 

“Flight is the engendering of a space without refuge. Let us flee. This should mean: let us seek a place  of refuge. But rather it says: let us flee into what must be fled, let us take refuge in the flight that takes away all refuge. Or again: there where I flee, 'I' do not flee, only flight flees, an undefined movement that steals, steals away and leaves nothing into which one might steal away.”

Maurice Blanchot, Plural Speech; The Infinite Conversation, University of Minnesota Press, 1993.

 

 

 

 

Can one not hear in this 'Where were you?' a statement of deficiency (constat de carence) that cannot have meaning unless the humanity of man is fraternally bound up with creation, that is, responsible for that which has been neither his I (son moi) nor his work? Might this solidarity and this responsibility for any and all - which cannot be without pain - be spirit itself?

Emmanuel Lévinas, Of God Who Comes to Mind, 1982; Meridian, Stanford California, 1998.

 

 

 

 

“Why is infinite regress bad? There must be an uncaused cause, but in virtue of what is one then permitted to go on and claim that this uncaused cause is God (who is, moreover, infinitely good)?  Where is the argument for the move from an uncaused cause to God as the uncaused cause? What necessitates the substantialization of an uncaused cause into a being that one can then predicate with various other metaphysical or divine attributes?”

Simon Critchley, Very Little... Almost Nothing - Death, Philosophy, Literature, Routledge, 1997.

 

 

 

 

“God is the one and only object of philosophy. [Its concern is] to occupy itself with God, to apprehend everything in him, to lead everything back to him, as well as to derive everything particular from God and to justify everything only insofar as it stems from God, is sustained through its relationship with him, lives by his radiance and has [within itself] the mind of God. Thus philosophy is theology, and [one's] occupation with philosophy - or rather in philosophy - is of itself the service of God.”

G.W.F Hegel, Introduction to The Lectures of 1824; Lectures on the Philosophy of Religion, University of California Press, 1984.

 

 

 

 

“I imagine seeing exhaustion, the horror of being in the depths of things - of being God. Hegel, at the moment when the system closed, believed himself for two years to be going mad; perhaps he was afraid of accepting evil - which the system justifies and renders necessary; or perhaps linking the certainty of having attained absolute knowledge with the completion of history - he saw himself, in a profound sense, becoming dead; perhaps even his various bouts of sadness took shape in the more profound horror of being God.”

Georges Bataille, Complete Works, Paris: Edition Gallimard, 1970-86.

 

 

 

“The 'what question', 'What is a being?' becomes in fact the guiding-question of the entire subsequent metaphysics, but the response to this question is attempted by way of explanation from out of causes or out of conditions for the representability of beings that are pre-determined as objects... In the inceptual question: 'What is a being?' being is  interrogated and is already thought as 'ground'. that is, as the swaying ground of beings.”

Martin Heidegger,  Mindfulness, Continuum, 2006.

 

 

 

We are 'in the Trace of God.' A proposition which risks incompatability with every allusion to the 'very presence of God'. A proposition readily converted into atheism: and if God was an effect of the trace? If the idea of divine presence (life, existence, parousia, etc.), if the name of God was but the movement of erasure of the trace of presence?... The face of God disappears forever in showing itself...The face of God which commands while hiding itself... Is not God the other name of Being (name because nonconcept), the thinking of which would open difference and the ontological horizon, instead of being  indicated in them only? Opening of the horizon, and not in the horizon...The very content of the thought of God is that of a being about which no question could be asked (except by being asked by it), and which cannot be determined as an existent.

Jacques Derrida, Violence & Metaphysics; Writing & Difference, Routledge, 1978.

 

 

 

“My body discovers in that other body a miraculous prolongation of my own intentions, a familiar way of dealing with the world. Henceforth, as the parts of my body together comprise a system, so my body and the other person's are one whole, two sides of one and the same phenomenon, and the anonymous existence of which my body is the ever-renewed trace henceforth inhabits both bodies simultaneously... It is as if the other person's intention inhabited my body and mine his.”

Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The Phenomenology of Perception, 1945. 

 

 

 

“Man can do nothing and he, and he is excepted from the truth each time he exercises power (or has the illusion of doing so). But God can do no more than man... God is not able to do anything for us; as long, at least, as we are still ourselves, encompassed by ourselves. 'In this world God is a dissolvent. Friendship with him confirms no power.'  [Simone Weil]. We come back to the question: if what tore herself from herself is not herself and is not God, then what is it? One must answer: this tearing itself.”

Maurice Blanchot, Affirmation (desire, affliction); The Limit-Experience; University of Minnesota, 1993.

 

 

 

“Behind each image, God has disappeared...The problem of the existence or non-existence of God was resolved by simulation. But one might think that it was God's own idea to disappear, and precisely behind images. God used the images to disappear, obeying the fundamental impulse to leave no trace. thus the prophecy is carried out: we live in a world of simulation, a world where the highest function of the sign is to make reality disappear and to mask this disappearance at the same time.”

Jean Baudrillard, The Conspiracy of Art, The MIT Press, 2005.

 

 

 

 

“Thinking and poeticizing must in in a certain way go back to where they have always already been and at the same time have still never built. However, we can only prepare such a dwelling in that place through building. Such a building may scarcely have in mind the erection of the house for the God or the dwelling places for the mortals. It must be content to build the Way that leads back into the place of the Verwindung of metaphysics and which in this way lets us wander through the destinal character of an overcoming of metaphysics.”

Martin Heidegger,Wegmarken, 2nd edition,  Klostermann, Frankfurt and Main, 1978.

 

 

 

As the Philosopher says in the same book (De Gener. Anim. i, 18), 'the semen is a surplus that is needed.'  For it is said to be superfluous, because it is the residue from the action of the nutritive power, yet it is needed for the work of the generative power. But the other superfluities of the human body are such as not to be needed, so that it matters not how they are emitted, provided one observe the decencies of social life. It is different with the emission of semen, which should be accomplished in a manner befitting the end for which it is needed.

Saint Thomas Aquinas, Whether the lust that is about venereal acts can be a sin? - Summa Theologiae II-II, 153, 3; 1266 - 1273.

 

 

 

“In 1953 in one of his greatest paintings, Two Figures, Bacon presented a darkened room in which two men make love on a bed: the artist, himself, and his lover Peter Lacy. The vertical lines that run down the picture veil the figures and suggest a view glimpsed through a net curtain, thereby placing us outside the room, spying on the men. In this way the painting embodies the clandestine nature of the depicted action at a time when homosexuality was still illegal in Britain. In Two Figures anxiety about the state monitoring and constraining the individual collided with a time of acute insecurity for homosexuals. A manifesto painting, Two Figures remained unexhibited until Bacon’s Tate Gallery retrospective in 1962.”

James Hyman, Francis Bacon - A Life in Paint, James Hyman Fine Art, 2002.

 

 

 

In the midst of beings as a whole an open place occurs. There is a clearing. Thought of in reference to beings, this clearing is more in being than are beings. This open center is therefore not surrounded by beings; rather, the clearing centre itself encircles all that is, as does the nothing, which we scarcely know. Being can be as beings only if they stand within and stand out within what is cleared in this clearing. Only this clearing grants and guarantees to us humans a passage to those beings that we ourselves are not, and access to the being that we ourselves are...The clearing in which beings stand out is in itself at the same time concealment... This concealment is dissembling.”

Martin Heidegger, The Origin of the Work of Art, 1935. 

 

 

 

"Reproduction of sexual or gendered animals and human beings can be divided into two phases, each having these same aspects - overfullness, excessive laceration, and loss. Two individuals communicate in the first phase through the channel of their lacerations. A more violent communication doesn't exist. In each person, the hidden laceration (like the imperfection or shame of existence) is laid bare (expresses itself) avidly adhering to the laceration of the other person. When lovers meet, it's a delirious situation of mutual laceration...  In an individual slipping towards the horrors of debauchery, love attains its intimate meaning at the brink of nausea. But the opposite movement (an instant of reersal) can be more violent... There's a scream from someone wounded!"

Georges Bataille, Guilty, 1944.

 

 

 

“Flesh and meat are life! If I paint red meat as I paint bodies it is just because I find it very beautiful. I don’t think anyone has ever really understood that. Ham, pigs, tongues, sides of beef seen in the butcher’s window, all that death, I find it very beautiful. And it’s all for sale—how unbelievably surrealistic!...I imagine men hanging in butcher’s shops for hyenas, who would be dressed in fur coats. The men would be hung by their feet, or cut up for stew or kebabs. We are all meat. All the inhabitants of this planet are made of meat. And most of them are carnivores. And when you fuck, it’s a piece of meat penetrating another piece of meat. There is no difference between our meat and the meat of an ox or an elephant.”

Francis Bacon, The Last Interview 1991-92;  with Francis Giacobetti; The Art Newspaper, June 2003.

 

 

 

“The  eternal extension of God serves, first of all, the objective of enabling each person who loses himself to find himself in him. But what is then missing is the satisfaction of those who aspire only to be lost, without remission. When Theresa of Avila screamed that she was dying of not dying, her passion, moving beyond any possible barrier, broke an opening that leads into a universe where perhaps there is no composition either of form or of being, where it seems that death rolls from world to world. For the organized composition of beings is apparently deprived of the slightest meaning when it is a matter of the totality of all things; this totality cannot be the analogue of composite beings, animated by the same movement that we know.”

Georges Bataille, The College of Sociology; Visions of Excess - Selected Writings 1927-1939, University of Minnesota Press, 1985.

 

 

Then, in the moral ages of humanity, people sacrificed to their gods the strongest instincts which man possessed, his 'nature.'  This celebratory joy sparkles in the cruel glance of the ascetic, the enthusiastic 'anti-natural man.'  Finally, what was still left to sacrifice?  Didn't people finally have to sacrifice everything comforting, holy, healing, all hope, all belief in a hidden harmony, in future blessedness and justice?  Didn't people have to sacrifice God himself and, out of cruelty against themselves, worship stone, stupidity, gravity, fate, nothingness? To sacrifice God for nothingness—this paradoxical mystery of the last act of cruelty is saved for the generation which is coming along right now. We all know something about this.

Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good & Evil, 1886.

 

 

 

“For the Greeks 'Being' says constancy in a twofold sense: 1. standing-in-itself as arising and standing forth (phusis), 2) but, as such, 'constantly,' that is, enduringly, abiding (ousia)... The meaning of the words ptosis and enklisis presupposes the notion of an upright stand... Going back an forth, slipping and sliding along this line, has become so much a part of our own flesh and blood that we neither recognize it it nor even understand and pay attention to the question about it.  Our immersion [not to say lostness] in the prior view and insight that sustains and guides all our understanding of Being is all the more powerful, and at the same time all the more concealed, because the Greeks themselves no longer shed light on this prior line of sight as such. For essential reasons (not due to failure), they could not shed light on it.”

Martin Heidegger,  The Grammar and Etymology of 'Being'; Introduction to Metaphysics, Fried & Polt Ed., Yale 2000.

 

 

 

“We hunt the quarry but refuse to corner it, relish the excitement but loathe the climax...The climax thus mingles life and death, the highest consummating moment being also a commitment to extinction. We enjoy the object of our desire, but in satisfying this particular appetite, we reduce it to nothing...In my brief divinity I am deluded. I fall from fullness. The gnawing sense of my nothingness returns, with the redoubled hunger of ever dissatisfied desire: lack again, only endless now...We are always orientated to something more...Thus, desire is infinite, yet bound to the finite at the same time... The human being thereby becomes defined as infinitely impotent, reaching beyond itself as infinite lack, only to be thrown back upon its own want and weakness... The dissolving disability of desire breeds its opposite positive: absolute, assimilating power, the absorbing god.”

William Desmond, Desire, Dialectic and Otherness, Yale University Press, 1987.

 

 

 

The expression of Egyptian religious thought can be quite different from that of western thought, and so it is worth mentioning here that even in western thinking about a transcendent first principle, androgyny appears as an image of self-generation and self-regeneration in Orphic cosmogonies and in non-Christian philosophies of the early Christian era, and in the myth of the Phoenix. In all these cases, however, it is the deity who is androgynous, while the ancient Egyptian Atum was not sexually dimorphic. But in the thought of Philo Judaeus, the Alexandrian Jewish Neoplatonist, while God contains the ideas (Platonic ideas, of course) of male and female, God is not Himself androgynous. Here, with the drawing of a distinction between maleness and femaleness on the one hand, and the deity himself on the other hand, we have something roughly analogous to the ancient Egyptian religious belief that had the sexually monadic god Atum become the sexual dyad Shu and Tefnut by putting himself through a process that can be imaged bisexually, though he himself remains male. One text goes so far as emphatically to deny the creator's bisexuality: 'He fucked his fist because there was no vagina.'  This god is pure act, as stated earlier, he is pure orgasmic act.

David Lorton, Autofellatio and Ontology - Ancient Egyptian Religion and the Problem of Closure; Virginia Commonwealth University, 20.9. 1996.

 

 

 

“Crypt - one would have said, of the transcendental or the repressed, of the unthought or the excluded - that organizes the ground to which it does not belong. What speculative dialectics means (to say) is that the crypt can still be incorporated into the system. The transcendental or the repressed, the unthought or the excluded must be assimilated by the corpus, interiorized as moments, idealized in the very negativity of their labour. The stop, the arrest, forms only a stasis in the introjection of the spirit...The erection of the pyramid guards life - the dead - in order to give rise to the for-(it)self of adoration...The difference and the play of the pure light, the panic and the pyromantic dissemination, the all-burning offers itself as a holocaust to the for-(it)self... In order to sacrifice itself, it burns itself. The burning then burns itself and goes out; the fire appears itself; the sun begins to go down, to run through the route that will lead it into the occidental interiority...What is at stake here? What is the stake at palay in this column?...Will hehave pleased [plu], rained [plu], more? Will he have ejaculated in the galaxy?... The white stone becomes black... Milk of mourning [Lait de deuil] sealed up (congealed, pressed, squeezed, hidden [caché], coagulated, curdled)... Between the two (already) is elaborated in sum the origin... But it runs to its ruin.

Jacques Derrida, Glas, (1974); University of Nebraska Press, 1986.

 

 

 

“What is striking is the way in which Freud is animated by a kind of passion for the origin - which he also first experiences in reverse form as a repulsion with regard to the origin. He thus invites each of us to look back behind ourselves in order to find there the source of every alteration: a primary 'event' that is individual and proper to each history, a scene constituting something important and overwhelming, but also such that the one who experiences it can neither master nor determine it, and with which he has essential relations to insufficiency. On the other hand, it is a matter of going back again to a beginning. This beginning will be a fact; a fact that is singular, lived as unique, and, in this sense, ineffable and untranslatable. But this fact at the same time is not one: it is rather the center of a fixed and unstable set of oppositional and indentificatory relations. It is not a beginning inasmuch as each scene is always ready to open onto a prior scene, and each conflict is not only itself but the beginning again of an older conflict it revives and at whose level it tends to resituate itself. Every time, this experience has been one of a fundamental insufficiency; each of us experiences the self as being insufficient...To be born is, after having everything, suddenly to lack everything, and first of all being, inasmuch as the infant exists neither as an organized, self-contained body or as a world... This absence, which is the absence of nothing, is at first the infant's sole presence.”  

Maurice Blanchot, The Speech of Analysis; The Infinite Conversation, University of Minnesota Press, 1993.

 

 

 


“Rushing fountains flow by fragrant flower beds, Bells ring softly in the twilight air, and a watchman  Calls out the hour, mindful of the time. Now a breeze rises and touches the crest of the grove — Look how the moon, like the shadow of our earth, Also rises stealthily!  Phantastical night comes, Full of stars, unconcerned probably about us — Astonishing night shines, a stranger among humans,  Sadly over the mountain tops, in splendour. The kindness of exalted Night is wonderful, and no one Knows where she comes from, or what will emerge from her. Thus she moves the world, and the hopeful minds of humans: Not even a sage knows what she's up to. The highest god, who loves you very much, wants it so; Therefore you prefer reasonable day to the night. But occasionally a clear eye loves the shadows as well, And tries to sleep just for pleasure, before it's necessary, Or a brave person likes to gaze directly into the Night... As lovers are, and a fuller cup, and bolder life, and  Holy remembrance as well, to stay wakeful at night.”

Friedrich Hölderlin, Bread and Wine - To Heinze, 1800.

 

 

 

 

“That man each day walks out into the night is a banality for present-day man... Compline still contains the mystical and metaphysical primeval power of night, which we have to pierce continually in order truly exist. Because Good is only the Good of the Evil: The Compline: a symbol of the existence being held out into the night and of the inner necessity of daily readiness for it... We believe that we are producing the essential, forgetting that it grows only if we live totally - and this means: in the face of the night and of the Evil - in accordance with our heart.  The decisive thing is this primally powerful negative - to place nothing in the path of the profundity of Dasein. This is what, concretely, we have to learn and to teach... We should live totally in the face of the night and of the Evil.”

Martin Heidegger, Letter to Elisabeth Blochmann,  September 12, 1929.

 

 

 

“Precisely in the miracle, we are thrust from our anticipation of the future into the presence of the moment, of the moment illuminated by a miraculous light, the light of the sovereignty of life delivered from its servitude. But, as I have said, the anticipation dissolves into NOTHING...The 'miracle' of death is understandable in terms of this sovereign exigency, which calls for the impossible coming true, in the reign of the moment. That which counts is there each time that anticipation, that which binds one in activity, the meaning of which is manifested in the reasonable anticipation of the result, in a staggering, unanticipated way, into NOTHING.”

Georges Bataille, Knowledge of Sovereignty; The Accursed Share, Zone Books, 1993.

 

 

 

Time gives all and takes all away; everything changes but nothing perishes. One only is immutable, eternal and ever endures, one and the same with itself. With this philosophy my spirit grows, my mind expands. Whereof, however obscure the night may be, I await the daybreak, and they who dwell in day look for night ... Rejoice therefore, and keep whole, if you can, and return love for love.

Giordano Bruno, The Chandler, 1582.

 

 

 

“In Holzwege, apropos of Anaximander, Heidegger deploys all the dimensions of the word Fug, fügen, of the tension between Fug and Unfug, ontological accord and discord, what about indulging in speculation about how the f … word itself is rooted in this cosmic Fug, along the lines of the pagan notion of the universe as resulting from the primordial copulation of the masculine and feminine cosmic principles (yin and yan, and so on)—so, to put it in Heideggerian terms, the essence of fucking has nothing to do with the ontic act of fuck itself; rather it concerns the harmonious-struggling Fucking which provides the very composition of the universe.

Slavoj Zizek, The Parallax View, MIT Press, 2006.

 

 

 

“We do not 'have' a body; rather, we 'are' bodily. Feeling, as feeling oneself to be, belongs to the essence of such Being... Every feeling is an embodiment attuned in this or that way, a mood that embodies in this or that way. Rapture is a feeling, and it is all the more genuinely a feeling the more essentially a unity of embodying attunement prevails... At the outset Nietzsche emphasizes two things about rapture: first, the feeling of enhancement of force, second, the feeling of plenitude... Enhancement is to be understood in terms of mood: to be caught up in elation - and to be borne along by our buoyancy as such... Mood is precisely the basic way in which we are outside ourselves.”

Martin Heidegger,  Rapture as Aesthetic State; The Will to Power as Art; Nietzsche Vol. 1 & 2;  Harper Collins, 1991.

 

 

 

“Sensation is intentional because I find that in the sensible a certain rhythm of existence is put forward - abduction or adduction - and that, following up this hint, and stealing into the form of existence which is thus suggested to me, I am brought into relation with an external being, whether it be in order to open myself to it or to shut myself off from it... As for the subject of sensation, he need not be a pure nothingness with no terrestrial weight... Between my sensation and myself there stands always the thickness of some primal acquisition which prevents my experience from being clear of itself... Sensation can be anonymous only because it is incomplete.”

Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenology of Perception, 1945.

 

 


It is a pneumatic machine that attacks you. You are dealing with a footed void. Neither claw thrusts nor tooth bites, but an unspeakable scarification. A bite is formidable, but less so than such suction. The claw is nothing compared to the sucker. The claw, that’s the beast that enters your flesh; the sucker, that’s you yourself who enters into the beast. Your muscles swell, your fibers twist, your skin bursts beneath this unworldly force, your blood spurts and frightfully mixes with the mollusk’s lymph. The beast is superimposed upon you by its thousand vile mouths; the hydra is incorporated in the man; the man is amalgamated with the hydra. The two make one. This dream is upon you. The tiger can only devour you; the octopus, what horror, breathes you in! It draws you toward itself and into itself, and, bound, stuck, powerless, you slowly feel yourself emptied out within that horrendous sack, that monster. Beyond the terror of being eaten alive is the ineffability of being drunk alive.

Victor Hugo, Les travailleurs de la mer, 1866.

 

 

 

 

“The object of sensual desire is by nature another desire. The desire of the senses is the desire, if not to destroy oneself, at least to be consumed and to lose oneself without reservation. Now, the object of my desire does not truly respond to it except on one condition: that I awaken in it a desire equal to mine. Love in it essence is so clearly the coincidence of two desires that there is nothing more meaningful in love, even in the purest love... The two desires fully respond to one another only when perceived in the transparence of an intimate comprehension... Without doubt, the intellect remains behind and, looking at things from the outside, distinguishes two solitary desires that are basically ignorant of one another. We only know our own sensations, not those of the other. Let us say that the distinction of the intellect is so clearly contrary to the operation that it would paralyze the latter's movement if it were compelled to fade from awareness. But the intellect is not wrong merely because the illusion denounced is efficacious, because it works and no purpose would be served by depriving the deluded partners of their contentment. It is wrong in that this is not an illusion.”

Georges Bataille, The Object of Desire and the Totality of the Real, Zone Books, 1993.

 

 

 
 

Falling Being-in-the-world is not only tempting and tranquilizing; it is at the same time alienating. Yet this alienation cannot mean that Dasein gets factically torn away from itself. On the contrary, this alienation drives it into a kind of Being which borders on the most exaggerated 'self-dissection', tempting itself with all possiblities of explanation, so that the very 'characterologies' and 'typologies' which it has brought about are themselves already becoming something that cannot be surveyed at a glance.

Martin Heidegger, Being and Time, 1927.

 

 

 

 

“Usually man does not show his body, and, when he does, it is  either nervously or with an intention to fascinate. He has the impression that the alien gaze which runs over his body is stealing it from him, or else, on the other hand, that the display of his body will deliver the other person up to him, defenceless, and that in this case the other will be reduced to servitude... Sexuality is neither transcended in human life nor shown up at its centre by unconscious representation. It is at all times present there like an atmosphere...There is no outstripping of sexuality any more than there is any sexuality enclosed within itself. No one is saved and no one is totally lost.”

Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The body in its sexual being; The Phenomenology of Perception, 1945.

 

 

 

 

“Has She left you nothing  - but death? But another means nothing to you...And this world takes place neither simply inside you or outside you. It passes from inside to outside, from outside to inside your being. In which should be based the very possibility of dwelling. and you meet me only in the space that you have opened up for yourself. You never meet me except as your creature - within the horizon of your world. Within the circle of your becoming. That protective shell which shelters you from an outside of  you which might question the matter with which you built your house. You take me inside you, you cast me outside you, a yes or a no making you full or  empty...Do not leave me behind. You reduce me to singularit. And I die when I am imprisoned in a single unique sameness.

Luce Irigaray, Elemental Passions,  The Athlone Press, 1992.

 

 

 

 

“My perception of the Other's senses serves me as a foundation for an explanation of sensations and in particular of my sensations, but reciprocally my sensations thus conceived constitute the only reality of my perception of the Other's senses... in fact if I start with the Other's body, I apprehend it as an instrument and in so far as I myself make use of it as an instrument...Therefore if I conceive of my body in the image of the Other's body, it is an instrument in the world which I must handle delicately and which is like a key to the handling of other tools... my body always extends across the tool which it utilizes:... it is at the end of the telescope which shows me the stars... The body is an instrument which I am...”

Jean-Paul Sartre, The Body; Being & Nothingness, University Paperback 1969.

 

 

 
 

All that philosophers have handled for millennia have been conceptual mummies; nothing actual has escaped from their hands alive. They kill, they stuff, when they worship, these conceptual idolaters - they become a mortal danger to everything when they worship. Death, change, age, as well as procreation and growth, are for them objections - refutations even. What is does not become; what becomes, is not...

Friedrich Nietzsche, Reason' in Philosophy; The Twilight of the Idols, 1888.

 

 

 

“My painting is not violent; it’s life that is violent. I have endured physical violence, I have even had my teeth broken. Sexuality, human emotion, everyday life, personal humiliation (you only have to watch television)—violence is part of human nature. You are born, you fuck, you die. What could be more violent than that? You come into this world with a shout. Fucking, particularly between men, is a very violent act, and don’t let’s even mention death.”

Francis Bacon, The Last Interview 1991-92; with Francis Giacobetti; The Art Newspaper, June 2003.

 

 

 

“The Universe is one, infinite, immobile. The absolute potential is one, the act is one, the form or soul is one, the material or body is one, the thing is one, the being in one, one is the maximum and the best...The one infinite is perfect, in simplicity, of itself, absolutely, nor can aught be greater or better, This is the one Whole, God, universal Nature, occupying all space, of whom naught but infinity can give the perfect image or semblance.

Giordano Bruno, 1548-1600.

 

 

 

What do you say that Degas has trouble getting a hard-on? Degas lives like a little lawyer, and he doesn't like women, knowing that if he liked them and fucked them a lot, he would become cerebrally ill and hopeless at painting. Degas' painting is virile and impersonal precisely because he has resigned himself to being personally no more than a little lawyer, with a horror of riotous living.

Vincent van Gogh letter to Emile Bernard, 5th August, 1888.

 

 

 

“What if sexual difference is not simply a biological fact, but the Real of an antagonism that defines humanity, so that once sexual difference is abolished, a human being effectively becomes indistinguishable from a machine...The end of sexuality in the much celebrated posthuman self-cloning entity expected to emerge soon, far from opening up the way to pure spirituality, will simultaneously signal the end of what is traditionally designated as the uniquely human spiritual transcendence. All the celebrating of the new enhanced possibilities of sexual life that Virtual Reality offers cannot conceal the fact that, once cloning supplements sexual difference, the game is over.

Slavoj Zizek, No Sex, Please, We're Post-Human!, Britannica.com, 2000.

 

 

 

“We can try to enjoy life - and hope to go on exciting ourselves in different ways. What else is there?... With Nietzsche I believe that man must remake himself. We must woo the doctors and scientists in the attempt to renew and alter ourselves, but there will be a lapse of time before their religious hangover will allow them to act freely... The division between the sexes has to a large extent been invented.  Only a comparatively small number of people are active within this division. The rest are waiting for something to happen or be done to them. But society has attempted to make moral differences. We must have the freedom to drift and find ourselves again.

Francis Bacon, Cambridge Opinion; interview with Michael Peppiatt, 1963.

 

 

 

“The sensations of the sexual act themselves have a provocative agreement with figures. The sensation exhibits the true object of desire (but the object of desire is itself an exhibit of the sensation). The tepidness of rain in the [brambles? rosebushes?], the dull fulguration of the storm, evoke both the figure and the inner sensation of eroticism. The smoothness, the tumescence, the milky flow of feminine nudity anticipate a sensation of liquid outpour, which itself opens onto death like a window onto a courtyard. But it is human to search, from lure to lure, for a life that is at last autonomous and authentic.”

Georges Bataille, The Conscious Sexual Act; The Accursed Share, Zone Books, 1993.

 

 

 

“True union, or love proper, exists only between living beings who are alike in power and thus in one another's eyes living beings from every point of view; in no respect is either dead for the other.  This genuine love excludes all oppositions... When the unity was immature, there still stood over against it the world and the possibility of a cleavage between itself and the world; ... finally, love completely destroys objectivity and thereby... deprives man's opposite of all foreign character, and discovers life itself without any further defect.”

G.W.F Hegel, Early Theological Writings, University of Pennsylvania Press, 1971.

 

 

 

“To love is to exist as if the lover and the loved one were alone in the world. The intersubjective relation of love is not the beginning of society, but its negation. And that is certainly an indication of its essence. Love is the I satisfied by the thou, grasping in the other the justification of its being.... The affective warmth of love is the fulfillment of the consciousness of that satisfaction, that contentment, that fullness found outside the self, eccentric to it. The society of love is a society of two, a society of solitudes, resisting universality.... In fact, such a society consists of two people, I and thou. Third parties are excluded.”

Emmanuel Lévinas, The I and the Totality;  On Thinking-of-the-Other, The Athlone Press, 1998.

 

 

 

 
I wanted to make an image which coagulated this sensation of two people in some form of sexual act on the bed, but then I was left completely in the void and left absolutely to the haphazard marks which I make all the time. And then I worked on what’s called the given form. And, if you look at the forms, they’re extremely, in a sense,  unrepresentational... I'm always trying through chance or accident to find a way by which appearance can be there but remade out of other shapes... The problem is how you're going to make the figuration. How are you going to make this thing look real, how are you going to make it real to the way you feel about the thing or real to the instinct?”

Francis Bacon, The Brutality of Fact - Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 1987.

 

 

 

“Artists, if they are any good, are (physically as well) strong. full of surplus energy, powerful animals, sensual... the sober, the weary, the exhausted, the dried-up (e.g., scholars) can receive absolutely nothing from art, because they do not possess the primary artistic force, the pressure of abundance; whoever cannot give, also receives nothing. 'Perfection' : in these states (in the case of sexual love especially) there is naively revealed what the deepest instinct recognizes as higher, more desirable, more valuable in general, the upward movement of its type; also toward what status it really aspires. Perfection: that is the extraordinary expansion of its feeling of power, riches, necessary overflowing of all limits. Art reminds us of states of animal vigour; it is on the one hand an excess and overflow of blooming physicality into the world of images and desires; on the other, an excitation of the animal functions through the images and desires of intensified life; - an enhancement of the feeling of life, a stimulant of it.”

Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power as Art, Spring-Fall 1887.

 

 

 

“Standing there, the construction rests on rocky ground. This resting of the work draws up out of the rock the obscurity of the rock's monstrous yet spontaneous support. Standing there, the construction holds its ground against the storm ragging above it and so makes the storm itself manifest in its violence. The lustre and gleam of stone, through itself apparently glowing by grace of the sun, yet first bring to light the light of the day, the breadth of the sky, the darkness of the night. The temple's firm towering makes visible the invisible space of air. The steadfastness of the work contrasts with the surge of the surf...The Greeks early called this emerging and rising in and in all things physis. It clears and illuminates, also that on which and in which man bases his dwelling. We call this ground the earth...In the things that arise, earth is present as the sheltering agent. The temple-work, standing there, opens up a world and at the same time sets the world back again on earth, which itself only thus emerges as native ground...But as a world opens itself the earth comes to rise up. It stands forth as that which bears all, as that which is sheltered in its own law and always wrapped up in itself.”

Martin Heidegger, The Origin of the Work of Art, 1937-1937. 

 

 

 

“Derrida and deconstruction have had recourse to much the same strategy, noting the 'phallo-centrism' of 'logocentrism' (= 'phallogocentrism'; see, e.g., D 48-49 & n.47; Gl 113a, 188a; PSF 477ff) and the (intellectual) 'masturbation' of trying to erect a philosophical system (OG 141-164). Deconstructive reading therefore involves castration -- 'always at stake' (D 302) -- that cuts into the columns of text that are the erection of philosophy to note the gaps, the fissures, the openings (as in a woman) -- i.e., the radical alterity ("woman") -- on which philosophy depends, and which it therefore does not control. Deconstruction takes note of the feminine phantom haunting the smoke (and mirrors) of philosophy (C 33) and thereby seeks to think as a woman, 'woman being one name for the untruth of truth' (SNS 51; cf. Gl 126a, 126bi, 187a; PSF 442ff). To think as a woman would not be to erect a philosophy but to be fertile in another way -- by playing, affirming an endless substitution that is neither signified nor signifier, presentation nor representation, showing nor hiding (P 86-87).”

Robert S. Gall, Living on (Happily) Ever After: Derrida, Philosophy & The Comic; Philosophy Today 38, 1994.

 

 

 

“Two beings of the opposite sex lose themselves in each other, and together form a new being, different from each of them. The precariousness of this new being is manifest: the two parts always remain distinct; there is nothing more than, in short moments of obscurity, a tendency to lose consciousness. But if it is true that the unity of the individual re-emerges with great clarity, this unity is no less precarious as well... Love expresses a need for sacrifice: each unity must lose itself in some other, which exceeds it.  But the happy movements of the flesh have a double orientation. Because going through flesh - going through the point where the unity of a person is torn apart - is necessary if, in losing oneself, one wants to rediscover oneself in the unity of love, it does not follow that the moment of tearing apart is itself devoid of meaning for torn-apart existence. It is difficult to know, in a coupling of beings, how much is passion for another being, how much is erotic frenzy, up to what point the being looks for life and power, and up to what point it is led to tear itself apart and lose itself, at the same time tearing apart and losing another.”

Georges Bataille, The College of Sociology; Visions of Excess - Selected Writings 1927-1939, University of Minnesota Press, 1985.

 

 

 

“In the Dionysian intoxication there is sexuality and voluptuousness: they are not lacking in the Apollinian.  There must also be a different tempo in the two conditions - The extreme calm in certain sensations of intoxication (more strictly:  the retardation of the feelings of time and space) likes to be reflected in a vision of the calmest gestures and types of soul. The classical style is essentially a representation of this calm, simplification, abbreviation, concentration - the highest feeling of power is  concentrated in the classical type...The condition of pleasure called intoxication is precisely an exalted feeling of power - The sensations of space and time are altered: tremendous distances are surveyed and, as it were, for the first time apprehended; the extension of vision over greater masses and expanses; the refinement of the organs for the apprehension of much that is extremely small and fleeting; divination, the power of understanding with only the least assistance, at the slightest suggestion: 'intelligent' sensuality - ; strength as a feeling of dominion in the muscles, as suppleness and pleasure in movement - All these climatic moments of life mutually stimulate one another.

Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power as Art, March-June 1888.

 

 

 

Languid serpent, you writhe, shrink, rise, and sink in that dense humour; and to ease your intense pain, you move from one part of the cold to another... I am tossed, consumed, burned, scorched in the eternal fire, and in the ice of my goddess neither love of me nor pity finds any place for my delivery. Ah me, because she does not feel how great is the rigor of my ardent flame!..... Snake, you seek to escape, but you are powerless. You cling to your shelter, but it is dissolved. You call back your own forces, but they are spent. Your hope is turned to the sun, but a dense midst conceals it... You are hardened by the cold, while I am liquefied by the heat.”

Giordano Bruno, The Heroic Frenzies, 1584.

 

 

 

I spoke with a Hollywood pornography producer, who told me that he deliberately stages the action so that the male viewer doesn't identify with the guy doing the fucking. He's just a machine... I think the categorization of heterosexuality versus homosexuality is totally wrong. There is a radical asymmetry between male and female homosexuality. Paradoxically, lesbian sex fits the standard phallocentric logic much more neatly than gay sex. I think that lesbianism is enacted for an absent phallic presence. Even some radical lesbian thinkers — like Judith Butler — who otherwise hate me, concede this point. Whereas the third element in male homosexuality is feminine, so gay sex is the truly feminist thing to do — and, in turn, standard heterosexual sex is the most homosexual act. It seems to me that gay penetration realizes and confronts the phantasmic support of straight sex too directly — that's why it is so unbearable for many... Why does heterosexual pornography often involve lesbian interplay, while prohibiting male interplay? The standard answer is that pornography caters to the male viewer. But half the people who watch hardcore pornography these days are women...There's a much deeper issue. I believe Lacan's basic point that sex is exhibitionistic by definition — it's never just you and me. There are always three in the sexual act. You imagine a gaze — you are always doing it for someone.

Slavoj Zizek, Index Magazine, 2005. 

 

 

 

“Bacon's painterliness is a way of getting under the skin of things, of destroying their matter-of-fact surface appearance and revealing the flesh of feeling they are made of... The unlocking of the feeling in form, as Bacon calls it, does violence to the image. For Bacon, this violence is a way of forcefully referencing reality, as well as an emphatic statement of his assumption that reality in general is violent... The flesh of Bacon's figure shows the mad music of uncontrolled or undisciplined sensation rebelling against any conformity to the outer order of things - symbolized by the mask of the face - and becoming a kind of idea in itself... There is no harmonious togetherness in Bacon's world, only conflict and self-conflict, self-torture and torture of the other. Perhaps this is why the couplings never do depict anal intercourse, but only the inconclusiveness of their struggle. The one figure cannot really take the other from behind, nor do they confront one another. Their union is, literally, a stalemate and dead-lock... In general Bacon's handling of flesh can be understood as the climactic act of his attempt to fuse fact and feeling, the conscious and unconscious, the critically controlled and accidentally instinctive, the illustrative and imaginative, the photo-slick technically reproducible and the singular texture of particular sensation. All the dichotomies come together in the flesh, which is simultaneously commonplace, and charged with rare personal feeling.”

Donald Kuspitt, Francis Bacon: The Authority of the Flesh, Art Forum, Summer, 1975.

 

 

 

“One of the people Bacon used to drink with during his frequent visits to Tangier in the late 1950s was Allen Ginsberg, the American Beat poet. One day Ginsberg asked Bacon whether he'd do a portrait of him and his boyfriend having sex. It seems likely that the request was inspired by one or both of two paintings which Bacon had made in 1953 and 1954... In any case he must have made the request in a way which suggested that he was thinking that Bacon would be doing the painting from life, given that Bacon answered: 'Well, this is going to be awkward, Allen; how long can you hold it?' At the same time, it seems fairly certain that that question was put in jest... Bacon's first painting  of coupled figures is an especially good example of the fluency with which he could combine images borrowed from other people's art or craft with images from his personal life... The painting is also  the key case in the saga of Bacon's dealing with censorship... The first exhibition in which it appeared was Bacon's retrospective at the Tate in 1962. The catalogue entitled it Two Figures and had a note that it was based on a photograph by Muybridge of two wrestlers. The exhibition included a copy of the photograph in the hope of lending respectability to the painting. It seemed to me that, ironically, the photograph of the wrestlers looked more pornographic than the painting of the buggers. It was of course because the painting was raised to a higher level by the beauty and nobility of its fracture.

David Sylvester, Francis Bacon and The Nude, Dublin, 23rd May, 2001; Francis Bacon - Studying Form, Faggionato Fine Art, 2005.

 

 

 

“The in of the Infinite designates the depth of the affecting by which subjectivity is affected through this 'putting' of the Infinite into it, without prehension or comprehension. It designates the depth of an undergoing that no capacity comprehends, that no foundation any longer supports, where every process of investing fails and where the screws that fix the stern of inwardness burst. This putting in without a corresponding  recollecting devastates its site like a devouring fire, catastrophying its site... It is a dazzling, where the eye takes more than it can hold, an igniting of the skin which touches and does not touch what is beyond the graspable, and burns. It is a passivity or a passion in which desire can be recognized, in which the 'more in the less' awakens by its most ardent, noblest and most ancient flame a thought given over to thinking more than it thinks... The negativity of the in of the Infinite - otherwise than being, divine comedy - hollows out a desire which cannot be filled, nourishes itself with its very augmentation, and is exalted as desire, withdraws from its satisfaction in the measure that it approaches the desirable. It is a desire that goes beyond satisfaction, and, unlike a need, does not identify a term or an end. This endless desire for what is beyond being is dis-interestedness, transcendence - desire for Good. But if the Infinite in me means a desire for the Infinite, is one certain of the transcendence which passes there?... Love is possible only through the idea of the Infinite - through the Infinite put in me, through the 'more' which devastates and awakens the 'less', turning away from teleology, destroying the moment and the happiness of the end.”

Emmanuel Lévinas, God and Philosophy (1975); Basic Philosophical Writings, Indiana University Press, 1996.

 

 

 

“Thus with a woman, even if the jouissance of the One is not excluded, it is, nevertheless, impossible. A woman does not make the exception exist, and when she addresses the One of exception from the place of her jouissance, from a not-all jouissance, she encounters the Other of lack. What she encounters, then, is an absence: the Other cannot be found. It is perhaps this that can account for the apparently mad character of love and of feminine jouissance. The relation of a woman to S(A) takes her outside the field of the phallus. Here, a woman touches the edges of a jouissance and of an infinite love which is different from the infinite love of the psychotic in that she attributes no meaning [signification] to it and does not localise this jouissance in the Other. Jouissance is glimpsed here, but it is only a glimpse, as beyond a limit. It is a kind of inkling of the infinitude of love and not, as in hysteria, an attempt to make the sexual relation exist. No longer the love of the idealised father, but a love with a poetical dimension, dilectio, a purified surge of the soul. In any case, it is the only love which, perhaps, escapes the field of narcissism; it can sacrifice the most precious thing. Thus, one could understand otherwise Lacan’s statement mentioned above on the erotomaniacal form of feminine love as love addressed to the Other of lack. It is precisely because she cannot say anything about this ‘mixture of love and of jouissance that a woman supposes it comes first from the Other. She only reaches the Other jouissance on the supposition of the jouissance of the Other. She can only suppose that what she cannot speak about, the Other will be able to do it for her. It is like loving God with the love by which God loves you, to hijack a formula of Master Eckhart: The eye by which I see God is the same eye through which God sees me’. Whilst a man believes the meanings [significations] that a woman proffers, a woman makes the word of love exist that would make her live in that nameless place where she is staying. Thus, in the loneliness of this love beyond the phallus, she elicits at the locus of the Other the well spoken to say the word of love ‘which is always beginning again’...”

Rose-Paule Vinciguerra, The Paradoxes of Love, Psychoanalytical Notebooks No. 3, 1999. 

 

 

 

When I had come into being in the being of the Being One who came into being on the First Occasion, when I had come into being in the being of the Being One, it meant that my coming into being was the coming into being of beings, for I am more primeval than the Primeval Ones whom I have created. (Because) I have been primeval among the Primeval Ones, my name is more primeval than they. (And when) I had made the primevalness of the Primeval Ones, I did my every wish in this land in which I had become broad. I had clenched my fist, when I was alone, before they were born: I had not spat out Shu, I had not sputtered out Tefnut I had brought my own mouth, my name was Magic: it was I, who had come into being in being, when I had come into being in the being of the Being One. When I had come into being as the Primeval Ones, a multitude of beings came into being at once, before any being came into being in this land. I had made every created thing, when I was alone, before any other came into being who might act with me in that place. I made beings there through that 'soul' (ba) of mine.

Amun-Re, Book of Knowing the Creations of  Re & Overthrowing Apophis; trans: Dr. David Lorton 1979 - circa:  312-311 B.C.

 

 

 

             

                                                                                                                            

                                                                                                                                        Two figures fucking on a couch 1967  Francis Bacon

 

        In the Beginning was the Fuck, and the Fuck was with God, and the Fuck was God. All Things were fucked by God and All Things came into Being through Fucking, and Apart from the Fuck Nothing came into Being that has come into Being by Fucking. And the Fuck became Flesh, and fucked among Us, and We saw Fucks spunk, Spunk as of the only coming from the Fucker, full of Spunk and Truth. In the Beginning God fucked all Things from His own Spunkessence. All Things were Fucked through God. So God Fucked Man full of Spunk and said: "Let there be Spunk."  So God fucked Man in Fucks own God and God fucked Woman in Fucks own God then God felt fucked after seeing All that God had fucked forth and then God fucked off.

        God who is One is One who Fucks the Fuck One the God One the One God the God Fuck for there is only One God only One Fuck only One Fuck God only One God Fuck for God is what Fuck means and Fuck is what God means. That is: to fuck forth for God as a Fuck is to Sensation the Divine Nothing as a Spunking Scripture coming off.

        God is the Fuck of all Fucks as the Source of all Fucks as the Sauce of all Fucks as a Semening Sein Sensationing of our Pure Presenceing Dissemenating Dasein.

        The Question of God and the Question of Being has beheaded and blighted the Question of Fucking but the forgotten Question of Fucking is the Answering to the Question of God and the Answering to the Question of Being for Fucking there is no Question of God for Fucking there is no Question of Being for Fucking Answers all.

        There is no Question of Fucking for there is no Question for Fucking for there is only the Sensation of Fucking the Sensation for Fucking as the Sensation of God as the Sensation of Being for there can never be a Question of God or a Question of Being only a Sensation of God only a Sensation of Being Coming through Fucking forth.

        Do we in our time have an answer to the question of what we really mean by the word 'fuck'? Not at all. So it is fitting that we should raise anew the question of the meaning of fucking for fucking is not really about penetration or procreation at all. For fucking is a forgetting of being there and a forgetting of the thing being fucked for.

        Philosophy doesn't give a fuck for fucking for philosophy wants to know nothing of the fucking and doesn't think a fuck for fucking as a fucking-thing thinking-thing a thing for thought for fucking thought. Yet fucking is always already an authentic  form of thinking if you think about it if you fuck about it - in its fort-da-thrusting fucking is a form of thinking in and out thrusting and retrieving giving and taking - for fucking is primordial form of thinking if you think about it if you fuck about it: Thinking is the Eternal Return of the Fucking: I fuck therefore I think. There is no Thinking without Fucking. Yet Thinking forgot that Fucking formed Thinking first of all for one and all.

        We must never forget that Fuckophising is foremost Philosophising as a thinging thinking thing for the the thing that thinks and fucks for the time being for the being time to come. Philosophising is there for Being whereas Fuckophising is there for Time and yet We still say Philosophising is for Time and Fuckophising is for Being.

        For what is Being? Being is Fucking. Being is always already fucking-being as a being-fucking for being-fucks fucks-being: being-fucks-being for being is being as a fucking-being to be-being to begin-being. The Question of Being is the Question of Fucking for being is first and foremost a fucking-thing as a thing that fucks forth.

        Heidegger asks: What calls for Fucking? What is Fucking? What is Fucking for? For who is Fucking for? For Fucking is the First Question for Thinking to think first to fuck first: For Fucking forth opens Out our Thinking through the Things there within the World as a wondering wandering wording of our wounding whirling worlding. Our Coming off of Our Fucking happens here with en-owning for Fucking is not extant as emptiness into which, so to spunk, subsequently beings always stream. Rather, fucking 'breaks in upon' that which because of this 'breaking in upon' becomes first 'that' which can be present and absent as a 'being' coming off of being there.

        If the Origin of Thinking was Fucking we need to Think about what the Fuck about what we were Fucking about Thinking for for Fucking to form Thinking through as a Fuck for Thought as a Food for Thought. We can ask what came first: Fucking or Thinking: did we Think to Fuck first or Fuck to Think first? Does the coming of the Fucking fuck forth the coming of the Thinking - the coming off of Fucking as the coming off of the Thinking? How does Fucking come about? How does Thinking come about? 

        Thinking comes about through Fucking first and then Thinking took over from Fucking thought through for Thinking forgot fucking for a time for a being but today the time has come to come to Fucking afresh as a thing to Think about all over again as our other form for Thinking being through as a Fucking being through Thinking for Thinking is determined by Fucking that set Thinking free to fuck forth thought and the first thought was to try and forget Fucking forever as a Thinking thing so Thinking fucked off Fucking and forgot all about Fucking for Thinking Fucking is not needed and we now all assume to Fuck is not to Think and that Fucking does not need Thinking about and yet Fucking frees the future for Thinking to Come about as a Time in itself Becoming being-time out of itself where Fucking frees Thinking to Fuck freely.

        What does Thinking fuck about? What does Fucking think about? Depth? How does Thinking fuck? How does Fucking think? Deeply? How deep do we think we fuck fuck we think?  A Deep Fuck? A Deep Think? How deep is deep? How deep is depth? Why is Fucking and Thinking attuned as a Profound Penetration? Thinking and Fucking have no profound depth to penetrate deeply and are not deep profound or penetrating but shallow slush floating freely flying forth shining above the surface of the skin.

        We come to know what it means to fuck when we ourselves are fucking. Yet what does it mean to fuck and are we really fucking when we fuck or are we really being fucked? We have still not come face to face with what fucking is all about and what fucking fucks and what fucking fucks for. For fucking is not a sex act at all for there are always minus-two people plus the nothing present when fucking comes forth for fucking clears being from beings and becomes there for the nothing that fucking fucks for. For the fucking becomes being for the nothing for fucking is the negation of the totality of beings for fucking is the seeking of the nothing seeping the nothing coming

        Fucking is the Vanishing of Dasein: Fucking is the Vanishing of Being There where No Being is Present but the Nothing Shining: the Shining of the Nothing coming with the Vanishing and the Vanquishing of Being thrown through the Fucking:  for Fucking is a Vanishing of Being There for Fucking is a Vanquishing of Being There.

        The Meaning of Being is Fucking for Time as the Meaning for Being is Fucking for Time for Being is Finite and Time is Infinite therefore Fucking is Timing for Being to Become Time: the Fucking is the Timing for the Clearing of Being to Become Being for Time Becoming the Time Being through the Fucking which is the Rehearsing for our Deathing to Come which is the Infinity of the Nothing Eternally Coming Never Ever Ending for Fucking like Thinking is always already Forever and Alien to Being There.

        For Fucking and Thinking about Becoming Infinity is the Most Dreadful and Difficult Thing to Think about and to Fuck about and Throws forth Anxiety and Dread.

        Is not Anxiety over Fucking - Dread of Fucking - just as Primal as Anxiety and Dread over Death? Is not Fear of Fucking just as Originary as the Fear for Fucking?

        For what Fucks together Fucks apart as for what Comes together Comes apart for Being together is Being apart for Fucking fucks Fucking apart for the Nothing.

        For Fucking fucks for Nothing for Fucking fucks always for the Nothing at all thus Negating the Fucking that fucks Being fucked off and ahead as a Nothing Fucking a fucking nothing at all for Fucking is for No One at all but for the Nothing that is There never Coming after being has come off and away without ever Being there whilst the Nothing remains the nothing coming the nothing withdraws the nothing not coming withdrawing away from the coming of Being that dies before being can come.

        Fucking is akin to Painting to Writing to Sculpting to Thinking in that There we throw and fuck ourselves out of ourselves we try to lose ourselves forget ourselves fuck ourselves out of there out of being there by being out of it in order to find ourselves again as being all alien again and thus there hollowing out the human altogether.

        We said: being still does not fuck and this is because what must be fucked about turns away from being; by no means only because being does not sufficiently reach out and turn to what is to be fucked. What must be fucked about turns away from being. Fucking withdraws from being thorough fucking ahead of being there fucking there for the nothing there. For fucking is a withdrawing and what withdraws from us draws us along by it very withdrawal yet we are not aware of the withdrawal withdrawing being from fucking being for fucking is also a pointing ahead of being as we are drawing toward what withdraws we ourselves point towards it as fucking being ahead as what withdraws goes forth far ahead as a withdrawal-projection for when one withdraws one opens out the hole as pointed projected ahead of itself.

        Yet for the vast majority of the masses fucking is a far more common practice than thinking is today for most can fuck but few can think yet to fuck is as a hard and a difficult thing to do as thinking is. Fucking is a form of forgetting-thinking - forgetting-thinking about it - thinking-about-thinking and thinking-about-fucking and fucking-about-fucking. Fucking also forges and forces ahead Thinking about the Nothing: Fucking is The Nothing to Think About when Thinking comes about by Nothing. Fucking wants to forget Thinking about It. Yet thinking and fucking are essentially the same thing the same act: that of becoming beheaded from being by being for the other thing by being ahead of oneself thrust ahead into the other and thinking as fucking sends us ahead thrusting us ahead and out of ourselves as an other being for another fuck another think that takes us all in and out again. Being Fucked is being- away as if abroad on an alien territory seeping strange sensations: a floating thing a falling thing a freeing thing: as an airborne thing being thrown ahead and out of oneself aimed at the other that fucks-one-free only to return to the fucker for fucking forever: to be well fucked is to be well out of the world in the world all at once to be and not to be all at the same no time at all for all time for no time at all.

 

 

                                                                                                       

                                                                                                                                                 Two Figures Fucking on a Bed   1972   Francis Bacon 

                                                  

                                                                              

        For Heraclitus Fucking is a Fluxing-Flowing-Thinging: "Fucking flows and nothing abides. Fucking gives way and nothing stays fixed. Fucking flows; nothing remains. All is flux, nothing is stationary. All is flux, nothing stays still. Whoever cannot fuck - the unforeseen sees nothing, for the known way - is an impulse. Fucking hurts, and what release - may come of it - feels much like death. Sound fucking - is to listen well and choose - one intercourse of action. One's fucking - shapes one's fate. Yet all things follow from the fuck. Silence, fucking. Fucks keep their secrets. After a fuck comes - nothing hoped for - nor imagined." (Heraclitus, The Fragments).

        For Thomas Aquinas Fucking is Eterniting as the Eternal Return of Time to Being There for the There Being of Time to Come as a Circling that is a Fucking Forever: Eterniting resembles the Centre of the Circle fucked through for as the Hole comprehends the Whole course of Tme through the intercourse of Time to Being from Being to Time. Eterniting is always Present to whatever Time or Moment of Time or Time and Movement of Time that Fucking Being fucks forth for: Fucking is the Timing of the Eterniting of the Infiniting of the Nothing never Coming for the Centre is Outside the Circumference of Being and Time all the time not in time not in being not in there.

        For Meister Eckhart Fucking is Nothing as Image Free free from God Being and Becoming the Godhead ahead of Being God that the Fucking forths us for. For once the Fucking begins God is fucked free and forgotten and Beheaded aheaded by the Godhead that is Headless and Imageless alighted as absolute nothingness of the Nothing There for Fucking is the Desert of the Godhead where no One is at Home and All are Away for Fucking is fucking for the Godhead where no Beings are There at all.

        For Meister Eckhart the Godhead is Fucking forth for Eternity from which all Beings fuck forth from as that Infinite Nothing that Comes through the coming off of Being There for the Godhead is not the Becoming of Being but the coming off of Being being for the Nothing to Come for the Godhead is Being Headless for the Nothing.

        For Meister Eckhart God is Fucking in Being and not Thinking in Being: God fucks Being from Within and God comes from Without:  "Whoever does not truly Fuck God within themselves, but must constantly receive God in One external Hole after another, Fucking God in diverse ways, whether by particular people, such a person does not Fuck God ... We should not content Ourselves with a God of thoughts for, when the thoughts come to an end, so too shall God. Rather, we should have a Fucking God who is beyond the Thoughts of all people and all creaturess."   (Meister Eckhart, On Detachment and possessing God, Selected Writings).  We come to God through God fucking Being to come to the God Fuck for We cannot Fuck God:  "All Beings wish to Fuck God in all their Works. They all Fuck as well as they can, but they cannot Fuck God. Whether they wish to or not, like it or not, even though they all want to Fuck God, God remains unfucked... "  (Meister Eckhart, Sermon 5, Selected Writings). 

        Plato's God is the Idea of the Good Fuck - as Aristotle's God is the Idea that Fucks Itself - as Spinoza's God is the Infinite Fuck - as Hegel's God is the Absolute Fuck.

        For GOD Fucking is GOD for GOD fucked GOD to be GOD to Become GOD to Become GOD without Coming without GOD Coming to be GOD to be GOD for Being to Come. 

        Being Comes for GOD to Come for the Moment of Coming off GOD Comes to Mind for Fucking fucks for GOD to Come that cannot Come for Being that Comes for GOD.

        For God cannot Come for You for GOD cannot Come Inside You at all like HIV cannot Come Inside You for HIV cannot Infect Being for GOD cannot Infect the Nothing.

        That GOD fucks out of The Nothing and yet cannot Come Inside Being yet Infects Being fucking Being to Be by being Outside is a thing no one thinks or fucks about.

        That HIV is also a nothing in Itself and has never ever been Isolated served severed from the Stuff of Being like Blood or Semen seems also to bother no one at all.

        For GOD is not a Name and HIV is not an Acronym for GOD and HIV name nothing and stand for nothing stand in for the nothing and not for the thing of the Nothing.

        No one is 'Living with GOD' just as No one is 'Living with HIV' for No one has 'GOD' just as No one has 'HIV' for just No one has 'GOD' or 'HIV' in their Blood or Semen.

        Being is a Thing - a Fucking Thing - a Thing that Fucks Being becomes Being through fucking being fucked Being Fuck being becomes being by being fucked into being there by being fucked there through the being that fucks being to be there being there is being fucked there to begin with with being becoming through the throwing that is fucking for fucking is a form of throwing as a fort-da-seining where the fuck throws being ahead of being fucked there then the fucking begins being again being fucked forth. To fuck is to fuck the pure outside of the (im)possible origin of being with (out) the other (at once) for fucking frees the fuck from the fucker and from the thing fucked.  For the fucker and the fucked become the fucking thinging fucked beyond being of beings by becoming through the fucking the thinging beheading being.

        For Fucking as a Furthering is always absolutely alien to the Mineness of our Dasein - for Fucking - as an Abjecting ahead and a Beheading of Being in the World - is an Abgrounding Airlifting aiming always away from Dutiful Dasein that throws the Thereness of the being-there to Care and to Cope for for the time-being anyway.

        For Dasein is 'in-time' whereas Fucking is 'out-time' - out-of-time with the time-being in-time for the being-time to Come. Fucking is the Severing of the da from the sein as a fort-da-sein-ing - for to fort is to fuck - for we cannot fuck da - we cannot fuck there: there is no there to fuck for: we fuck for the fort not for the da of being.

        Hear Hedegger: "To fuck being requires in each instance a leap, a leap into the groundless from the habitual ground upon which for us beings always rest...Being, however, is not a fuckable ground but is the groundless... In fact, we surely fall into the abyss, we find no ground, as long as we know and seek a ground only in the form of a being, and hence never carry out the leap into being, the fuck into being or leave the familiar body of the oblivion of being." (Martin Heidegger, Parmenides Lectures 1942-43). For Hedegger Fucking en-fucks being coming to being be-ing and be-ing is being out of being as an ab-grounding projecting-opening where and when fuck-ing is a clear-ing of being becoming be-ing time-ing in infinit-ing the nothing there coming to the coming off of being there thus be-ing depends on fuck-ing for break-ing being open and out of itself for itself being out of itself by being be-ing for fucking forth ahead of out-of-itself therefore fucking is a break-ing-open of an ab-grounding.

        Did Hegel ever fuck pussy in doggy? How did Heidegger fuck cunt? Did Nietzsche fuck arse? Did Wittgenstein fuck or get fucked? Did Foucault get fucked or fuck? How do Philosophers fuck? How do Philosophers come?  Do Philosophers ever get hard?  Or give head - being all head after all?  Representations of Philosophers are always penisless and bodiless - debodied  by being beheaded from their embodiment of being Philosophers are all head - and always as a huge head sitting on plinth without a penis present - all head and no body.  Do Philosophers really have penises after all?  Why is the Philosopher's face privileged over his penis?  Schopenhauer however did privilege the penis as the force of the will for fucking is will-to-life for Schopenhauer.  For Schopenhauer the will-to-life is the will-to-fuck for fucking-is-a-willing.

        For Hegel Fucking is Godding: "So if God's being is attested in our Fucking, it is there in the form of complete contingency, as being, in principal, a particular content, one that takes no precedence over any other content, for the status of being a fucking can belong to the other just as easily as to it...Even if we have now said that Fucking is the locus in which God's being can be pointed out immediately, we have not met with being or God - our object - there in the way we want to, i.e., not as being that is free in and for itself... To the extent that God is, I am not; to the extent that God Fucks me, the finite disappears. In this way God is defined by an antithesis that seems to be absolute.... I forget myself plunging into the object. I immerse myself in it as I seek to cognize and to conceive God. I surrender my particularity in it, and if I do this I am no longer in the relationship which, as an empirical consciousness, I wanted to maintain.... If the relationship is altered, if God is no longer a beyond for me, then I no longer remain a pure observer, I become interwoven with the thing instead.... This other, which is called God, is a beyond, nothing else for us but what, in the Fucking of our Finitude, we yearn for, this and nothing more; for we are Fucked in our Finitude absolutely... We must now consider the general nature of Fucking, so far as it is appropriate at this point. 'I feel something hard.' When I say this in this way, there is first the 'I' and second the 'something,' making two. That is the expression of reflection. The common element is the 'hardness.' There is hardness in my fucking, and the object also is hard. This commonality exists in Fucking: the object impinges upon me and I am filled with its determinate character... Thus God is in our Fucking, God has in that respect no advantage over what is worst... God is spunk, not finite spunk but absolute spunk... Spunk is what manifests itself." (Hegel, The Lectures of 1824; Lectures on the Philosophy of Religion, University of California Press, 1984).

 

 

                                                                                              

                                                                                                                               Two Figures Fucking Triptych August 1972    1972  Francis Bacon

 

 

        For Jacobi Fucking is Godding-Nothing: "But the Human Being has such a choice, this Single One: Nothingness or a God. Choosing Nothingness, he fucks himself into a God; that is, he fucks an apparition into God because if there is no God, it is impossible that man and everything which surrounds him is not merely an apparition. I repeat: God is, and is outside of me, a fucking being, fucking in itself, or I am God fucking Nothing. There is no Two there. There is the One of the Nothing or the One of the Godding and both are One fucking for the Other one."  (Friedrich Heinrich Jacobi, Open Letter to Fichte; Philosophy of German Idealism, Continuum, New York, 1987).

        For Schelling Fucking as a Forcing-forth and Coming-off of Nature's Spirit opens-out Contracting and Consciousing of our Unconscious Spunking as a Coming to Consciousness thrust through the Coming off of our originary Contraction activating Attraction and  abjected ahead as a Semening-sensation Dasein-dissemenation ejaculating Ereignis Ent-Scheidung. Coming freeze-frames for a split-second the coming of our 'consciousness' coated wet with the coming off of our 'unconscious' like the skin sealing the spunk about to be split apart severing the coming between the 'unconscious' and the 'conscious' for fucking is the forcing and forging together as apart the coming-clearing of our conscious-unconscious as an unconscious-conscious: fucking-fuses conscious-unconscious-unconscious-conscious forever for one.

        For Schelling Fucking is Ungrounding: for fucking is for-no-one forever for-no-time: for Schelling Fucking is Impossible for Schelling Fucking is Impenetrable for Fucking is the the Impenetrable God we want to fuck for whilst Fucking the Father off altogether whilst not even Giving a Fuck for the Mother that Lays There between the Father Fucked and the God to Come.  For Schelling Fucking is the Impenetrable Ground fucked for by the Impossible Being for a Time that cannot Come to Being.

        For Schopenhauer - as for Bacon - fucking is all there is - is all there really is - between birth and death - and fucking is always already fucking ahead and afar towards death as a way of forgetting death by being death be beheading one's head ahead of oneself: to fuck-off is to fuck off and away from oneself: to fuck is to free oneself from oneself into the death that is the other as the other being being  fucked is being fucked free from being itself freed back into the fucker that fucks the fucked free from being fucked to being fucked free: a sort of fort-da doggy style as the Eternal Return of the Fuck that cannot free being from being fucked forever fucking being forever being fucked. But what is fucked for remains forever out of focus out of fuckus for us for fucking is also a freeing from being a freeing from being fucked for.

        Schopenhauer sensations Fucking as a Willing: "The fuck, considered purely in itself, is without knowledge and is merely a blind, irresistible impulse and since what the fuck fucks is always life, just because life is nothing but the sensation of that fucking for the body... That the fuck as such is free, follows from its being, in our view, the thing-in-itself, the content of all phenomena...The sexual impulse proves itself the decided and strongest affirmation of life also by the fact that to man in a state of nature, as to the animals, it is the ultimate purpose, the highest goal of life...The genitals are, far more than any other external part of the body, subject merely to the fuck and not at all to knowledge. Indeed, the fuck shows itself here almost as independent of knowledge as in those parts of the body which, responding merely to stimuli, serve vegetative life, reproduction, in which the fuck works blindly as in Nature devoid of understanding... The affirmation of the fuck is the continuous fucking itself, undisturbed by any knowledge; such fucking does, in general, occupy human life. For the human body is the objectivity of the fuck as it appears in this individual. And thus his fucking, which develops in time is, as it were, a paraphrase of the body, an elucidation of the sensation of the whole and its parts; it is another way of exhibiting the same thing-in-itself as is already manifest in the body. So instead of saying 'affirmation of the fuck', we may say 'affirmation of the body'... What presents itself to the individual consciousness as sexual impulse in general, and without being directed towards a specific individual of the opposite sex, is, in itself and over and above the phenomenon, simply the fuck to life." (Arthur Schopenhauer, The World as Will: Book Four; The World as Will and Idea, Everyman 1995).         

        For Schopenhauer Spunking comes before and after the Coming to Fucking to the Coming of Fucking which would wish Spunking - as the Thing in Itself Coming to Itself - would not Come at all - for Fucking finds Coming a frightening frisson freezing Fucking forever fucked. For Fucking forgets that Spunking Comes for Anything at all Comes for Nothing at all and always without giving a Fuck about it.  Spunking is Coming for Itself and all Over Itself by Coming by Itself and Ahead of Itself and ahead of the Nothing of Fucking that cannot Come to Anything at all since Spunking severs Fucking. Spunking is not a Willing to a Coming from Fucking forth to a Head as Coming Off of a Head:  "The denial of the will to fuck does not in any way imply the annihilation of a substance; it means merely the act of non-volition: that which previously willed, wills no more. This will, as a fuck in itself, is known to us only in and through the act of volition, and we are therefore incapable of saying or of conceiving what it is or does further after it has ceased to perform this act: thus this denial of the will to fuck is for us, who are a phenomena of volition, a transition to nothingness...He who is capable of fucking a little more deeply will soon perceive that human desires cannot begin to be sinful simply at that point at which, in their chance encounters with one another, they occasion harm and evil; but that, if this is what they bring about, they must be originally and in their essence sinful and reprehensible, and the entire will to fuck itself reprehensible." (Arthur Schopenhauer, On Affirmation and Denial of the Will to Live; On the Suffering of the World, Penguin Books 2004).

        For Nietzsche Fucking is Willing: "Fucking: a compelling feeling, quite pleasant! It is the epiphenomenon of all discharge... In every fucking there is in the first place a multiplicity of feelings, namely, the feeling of the state away from which, the feeling of the state toward which, the feeling of this 'away' and 'toward'; then there is also an accompanying feeling in the musculature that comes into play by force of habit as soon as we 'fuck' even if we do not set 'arms and legs' in motion... There is no such thing as 'fucking' but only as fucking something: one must not remove the aim from the total condition - as epistemologists do. 'Fucking' as they understand it is as little a reality as 'thinking': it is a pure fiction...Thinking, feeling, fucking in all living beings. What is a pleasure but: an excitation of the feeling of power by an obstacle (even more strongly by rhythmic obstacles and resistance) - so it swells up. Thus all pleasure includes pain. If the pleasure is to be very great, the pains must be very protracted and the tension of the bow tremendous... Feelings of pleasure and displeasure are reactions of the fuck in which the intellectual centre fixes the value of certain changes which have occurred in relation to the value of the hole; at the same time the introduction of counteractions... All actions must first be made possible mechanically before they are fucked. Or: the purpose usually comes into mind only after everything has been prepared for its execution. The end is an inner stimulus - no more... My idea is that every specific body strives to become master over all space and to extend its force (-its fuck to power:) and to thrust back all that resists its extension. But it continually encounters similar efforts on the part of other bodies and ends by coming to an arrangement ('union') with those of them that are sufficiently related to it: thus they then conspire together for power. And the process goes on - What is 'active'? Reaching out for power... 'Procreation' - only derivative; originally:  where one fuck was not enough to organize the entire appropriated material, there came into force an opposing fuck which took in hand the separation; a new centre of organization, after a struggle with the original fuck... 'Pleasure' - as a feeling of power... The organic functions translated back to the basic fuck, the fuck to power - and understood as offshoots... This world is the fuck to power - and nothing besides! And you yourselves are also this fuck to power - and nothing besides!"  (Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good & Evil [1886]; The Will to Power - [November 1885, 1887-March 1888], Walter Kaufmann Edition, Vintage Books 1968).

 

 

                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                                      Two Figures Fucking on a Bed   1970  Francis Bacon

 

 

        For Louis-Ferdinand Céline Fucking is Styling:  "Fucking is Styling and neither vulgarity nor sexuality have anything to do with this business - They are nothing but stage props.  Fucking is the Styling of our Musical Muscles of our Skin Sounds that our Bodies Blow in and out played pumped and piped when we shout out:  cunt you cunt fuck you cunt cunt you fuck you fucking cunt you cunting fuck fucking fuck face face fuck slit slut slut slot slit slot slut fuck fish fish fuck cunt cock cod cod cunt cock cunt cunt cock cod crack cunt crack cod cock spurt splat splurt slurt slut slurp splurt spat spunk splat slurp splurt spurt spat jew jew spat spit jaw juice jew jaw juice juice jaw jew balls ball bag jaw jews juice balls drop jews dick drips drop dick drip dick ball bags bag ball pricks pussy prat prick pump pussy pump prick pussy prat pump tool prat pump tart tool trick tart tool take to tool tart tool to take trick tart tool taker to trick take tool tart tart tool take taker tool tool tart trap tart trip trap trap trip tart trip."  (Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Letter to Milton Hindus, May 15, 1947).

        For Heidegger Fucking is an Opening Out and Letting Lie of the Lighting: "If we fuck it [i.e., the fucking of being] as lighting, this includes not only brilliance, but also the openness wherein everything, especially the reciprocally related, comes into shining. Lighting is therefore more than illuminating, and also more than laying bare. Lighting is the meditatively gathering bringing-before into the open. It is the bestowal of fucking... The fucking letting-lie-before of what is present in its presencing."  (Martin Heidegger, Aletheia; Early Greek Thinking 1943). 

        Here for Heidegger Fucking is letting-being-be by letting-being-lie-with-being there for Fucking means co-being for Fucking means being-with for Fucking means: co-being-being-with-being-there-being-there-in-the-world-with-the-one-other-and-the-other-one-being-being-for-being-being-for-being-fucking-fucking-being.

        For Heidegger Fuck-ing is a Hymn-ing-Hyphen-ing Thing-ing: for Hym to Fuck is a Hymn of the Hyphen to the Hymen to Hymn the Fuck Hym to Hymn the Hym Fuck as a Fuck-ing Forth-ing Glory-ing Gaze-ing into the No-thing of the Night-ing that throws there the Shine-ing open of the Source-ing of the Sauce-ing song Coming as a Comet that there Comes wet-with Com-ing as a gorgeous God-ding ground-ing-there through the Hypen-ing of the Hy-men-ing-Hyphen-ing joining-jubilant-juices.

        For Heidegger then the Hym who Fucks is the Hym who Hymns the Fuck of the Future as a Song of the Soul that Comes through the Night as a Shining Lighting: ufuck hymn ufuck hym for ufuck the hymn of hym the uhym of the uhymn of the he-phen he fucks-for part-ing-prat join-ting-apart the-there-that with-which parts-prat coming together join-ing-juices-apart the penis-path that the cunt-comes cut-apart to the prat-source where the wet spunk-ing-sauce comes to a close as a comet coming halting the hymning of hyming hence-he-hates hys-hyphen-hymn coming he-hates-hys comet-coming as a coming-comet comes all apart altogether-torn-together.

         For Heidegger Fucking is the Clearing of Being through the Self Spunking of the Lightning: "The fucking belonging to the essence of Being suddenly clears itself and lights up. This sudden self-lighting is the lightning flash. It fucks itself into its own brightness, which in itself both fucks along and fucks in...The truth of Being flashes, the essence of Being lights itself up... Only when man in the disfucksing coming-to-pass of the insight by which he himself is befuckd, renounces human self-will and projects himself that insight, away from himself, does he correspond in his essence to the claim of that insight. In this corresponding man is fucked into his own that he, within the safeguard element of the world may, as the mortal, fuck out towards the divine."  (Martin Heidegger, The Question concerning Technology 1954).

         For Heidegger Fucking is the Clearing Cleaving as an Opening Outing of Being as a Hole: "In the midst of beings as a Hole an open Cunt occurs. There is a Fucking. Fucked of in reference to beings, this Fucking is more in being than are beings. This Open Cunt is therefore not surrounded by beings; rather, the Fucking Cunt itself encircles all that is, as does the Nothing, which we scarcely know. Being can be as beings only if they Stand within and Stand out within what is Cleared in this Clearing. Only this Fucking grants and guarantees to us Humans a passage to those beings that we Ourselves are not, and access to the being that we Ourselves are...The Fucking in which beings Stand out is in itself at the same time Cuntcealment...This Cuntcealment is dissembling." (Martin Heidegger, The Origin of the Work of Art 1935).

        For Heidegger Fucking is the Cleaving of the Tearing as a Separating of the Joining: "But as a cunt opens itself, the cock comes to rise up. It stands forth as that which bears all, as that which is sheltered in its own law and always self-secluding. Cunt demands its decisiveness and its measure and lets beings extend into the open of their paths. Cock, bearing and jutting strives to keep itself closed and to entrust everything to its law. This strife is not a tear as the gaping cunt of a pure cleft, but the strife is the intimacy with which combatants belong to each other. The tear pulls the opponents together in the origin of their unity by virtue of their common ground. It is a basic design, an outline sketch, that draws the basic features of the rise of the lighting of beings. This tear does not let the opponents burst apart; it brings the opposition of measure and boundary into their common outline." (Martin Heidegger, Poetry, Language, Thought, New York: Harper & Row 1971).

         For Heidegger Fucking is a Homing-In of our Home-Coming: For to Fuck is to Home-In: to try to Come Home whilst without Being at Home for Fucking forth as a Homing In homes-in-on-nothing-at-home to come-home to for coming-home is always a going-away as being-comes by going-away from the home of the no return.

        For Heidegger Fucking is also a Venturing into the Dangering of Dasein without Shielding Sein:  "Being as venture is the relation of fucking loose, and thus retains in the fucking even what has been ventured...Venture includes fucking into danger. To dare is to risk the game... If that which has been fucked were to remain out of danger, it would not have been ventured. It would not be in danger if it were shielded." ((Martin Heidegger, Poetry, Language, Thought, Harper & Row 1971).

        For Heidegger Fucking is Forever a Forgetting of Being-in-the-World where we wander away without a wonder what it is all about apart from being about the nothing which is not nothing at all for fucking is not negating-nothing but negating-being by being-for-the-nothing that negates-nothing and negates-being-as-nothing.

        For Levinas Fucking is the One Othering-for-the-Othering One where no one but the other ones are there as the There Is of the there is not There for the one filling out the other one fulfilling the nothing there of the other one not there for the one other there not: the other is the other one of the one other: there are not two there.

        For Levinas Fucking is Intersubjecting-Interhumaning where we fuck forth Being-for-the-Other-as the Other-for-the One where One and One are never Two for One and One never become the Two because the One knows Nothing of the Two for One and One only ever equal One and No Other for there is no number Two there.

        For Levinas Fucking is Infiniting of the There Is for the Nothing of the Othering Coming through the Gifting of the Glorying that Crowns through the coming off of being there. The There Is Comes for Nothing and Calls for Nothing that is Coming after the Fucking that coming off finishes off fucking for through the Coming of the apeiron ather that comes for the Nothing that has Come with the coming off of being fucked there. Fucking is the Gifting of the There Is of there being no being there but the Nothing Coming that comes as a Gifting of the coming off of fucking forth for the there without being being there for the there of the There Is the Nothing that is there.

        For Levinas Fucking Forth is Infiniting In of our Othering Godding by Being Other: "The in of the Infinite designates the depth of the afuckting by which subjectivity is affuckted through this 'fucking' of the Infinite into it, without prehension or comprehension. It designates the depth of an undergoing that no capacity comprehends, that no foundation any longer supports, where every process of investing fails and where the screw that fucks the stern of inwardness burst. This fucking in without a corresponding recollecting devastates its site like a devouring fire, catastrophying its site... It is a dazzling, where the cunt takes more than it can hold, an igniting of the skin which touches and does not touch what is beyond the graspable, and burns. It is a passivity or a passion in which desire can be recognized, in which the 'more in the less' awakens by its most ardent, noblest and most ancient flame a thought given over to fucking more than it thinks... The negativity of the in of the Infinite - otherwise than being, divine cock - hollows out a desire which cannot be filled, nourishes itself with its very augmentation, and is exalted as desire, withdraws from its satisfaction in the measure that it approaches the desirable. It is a desire that goes beyond satisfaction, and, unlike a need, does not identify a term or an end. This endless desire for what is beyond being is dis-interestedness, transcendence - desire for God. But if the Infinite in me means a desire for the Infinite, is one certain of the transcendence which passes there?... Love is possible only through the idea of the Infinite - through the Infinite put in me, through the 'more' which devastates and awakens the 'less', turning away from teleology, destroying the moment and the happiness of the end... The I fuck reconstitutes presence and being, interestedness and immanence, in love... In this strange missionary position that orders the approach to the other (autrui), God is drawn out of objectivity, presence, and being."                              (Emmanuel Lévinas, God and Philosophy (1975); Basic Philosophical Writings, Indiana University Press 1996).

        For Levinas Fucking is Imaging Infiniting attuned attained and alighted as an Imagectivity initiated ahead as an Abjectivity severing Subjectivity spunk-spent: For Levinas Fucking-Forever is Freeze-Framing an Abjected-Abimage so severing time-out-of-time-out-of-being-out-of-joint where-when  being becomes be-ing abjected ahead of being-there by be-ing-not-there by being an alien-abimage arising and arriving afar as free form from being-in-the-world by being fucked-forth for an abtime ahead. For Levinas we Fuck-Forth for an Alien-Abimage freeze-framed for further-futuring fucking where-when we are-all no longer being-in-time but time-being. 

        Therefore Fucking for Levinas is the Glorying of the There Is of the Ather not Is There for Glory is the Essence of the Gift to the Coming of the Fucking for Infinity and Glory is the Gift of the Hole that Coming Being fucks for Becoming Infinity for Glory is but the ather arse of the activity of the alien arriving as Glory is the Glorification of the alien ather's coming off out of the Gift Hole of the 'as-for-one' as 'as-for-the-ather-one' where the very possibility of the Origin of the Other is absolutely fucked.

        For Levinas Fucking is Inhuman and Monstrous:  "The eternal duration of the interval in which the fuck is immobilized differs radically from the eternity of a concept; it is meanwhile, never finished, still enduring - something inhuman and monstrous... An eternally suspended future floats around the animal position of a fuck like a future forever to come. The imminence of the future lasts before an instant stripped of the essential characteristic of the present, its evanescence... A fuck is interesting, without the slightest sense of utility, interesting in the sense of involving - to be among things which should have had only the status of objects... Fucking has a non-dialectical fixity, stops dialectics and time fucking an eternally suspended future. In fucking the instant endures infinitely." (The Levinas Reader, Blackwell 1989).

        Being Fucked and Fucked Being for Levinas is Gifting for the One of the Other for the Fucker exists only via the Gift of the Being being Fucked for as a Gift that then the Fucker gives back the Gift of the Fuck for the Fucked for: the Fucker gives back the Gift of the Fucked: the Fucker is Fucked the Fucked is Fucker through the fucking of the gifting. For Levinas it is the Fucked Being that is the Promise of Infinity coming to the Fucker that Becomes Infinity through fucking the Fucked that is in it self fucked out of itself initiated ahead as Infinity: the Fucker and the Fucked are fucking ahead as initiating Infinity where and when Fucking is Infiniting outside Being and Time.

        For Merleau-Ponty Fucking is an Othering of the One with other One: "My body fucks in that other body a miraculous prolongation of my own intentions, a familiar way of fucking with the world. Henceforth, as the parts of my body together comprise a system, so my body and the other person's are one hole of one whole, two sides of one and the same fuck thing, and the anonymous existence of which my body is the ever-fucked trace henceforth inhabits both bodies simultaneously...It is as if the other person's intention inhabited my body and mine his where fucking is the one belonging together with the other one...I fuck in the facial expressions of the other, as I feel him fucking in mine. Fucking is our own Othering one."  (Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The Phenomenology of Perception,1945; The Child's Relations to Others 1951).

 

 

                                                                                                             

                                                                                                                                              Two Figures Fucking on a Bed   1972   Francis Bacon 

 

 

        For Blanchot Fucking is Fleeing from Fucking: "Man Fucks. First he fucks something, then he fucks all things through the unmeasured force of fuck  that transforms everything into fucking. Then when fucking has taken hold of everything - making of everything what must be fucked as much as what one cannot succeed in fucking - fuck makes the hole, by a repulsion that attracts, slip away in the panic reality of fucking. In panic fucking it is not that everything declares itself to be what should be fucked or what is impossible to fuck: it is the very category of the hole - the one borne by the general question - that is unseated and made to falter. We are here at the juncture where the experience of the hole is shaken, and, gives way to panic profundity. When we fuck we do not fuck each thing one at a time and one after another, according to regular and indefinite enumeration. For each thing, equally suspect, has collapsed in its identity as a thing, and the hole of things has collapsed in the slipping movement that steals them away as a hole. Fucking now makes each thing rise up as though it were all things and the hole of things - not like a secure order in which one might take shelter, nor even like a hostile order against which one must struggle, but as a movement that steals away. Thus fuck not only reveals reality as being this hole (a totality without gap and without issue) that one must fuck: fucking is this very hole that steals away, and to which it draws us even while repelling us. Panic fucking is this movement of stealing away that realizes itself as profundity, that is, as a hole that steals away and from which there is no longer any place to steal away to. And thus it accomplishes itself finally as the impossibility of fucking... Fucking is the engendering of a space without refuge. Let us fuck. This should mean: let us seek a place  of refuge. But rather it says: let us fuck into what must be fucked, let us take refuge in the fucking that takes away all refuge. Or again: there where I fuck, 'I' do not fuck, only fucking fucks, an undefined movement that steals, steals away and leaves nothing into which one might steal away."  (Maurice Blanchot, Plural Speech; The Infinite Conversation, Theory and History of Literature: Volume 82 - University of Minnesota Press 1993).

        For Blanchot the Fuck is the Work free from Being:  "The Fuck is the violent liberty by which it is communicated, and by which the origin - the empty and indecisive depth of the origin is communicated through the fuck to form the brimming resolution, the definiteness of the beginning... But the fuck's very coming to be is revealed by the flash of its disappearance at least as by the false light shed by survival from mere habit. The feeling that fucks escape time originates in the fuck's 'distance' which always comes from the fuck's presence... If the fuck's 'void,' which is its presence to itself in its fucking, is difficult to preserve, this is not only because it is in itself hard to sustain, but also because it remembers, as it were, the void which, in the course of the fuck's genesis, marked the incompletion of the fuck and was the tension of its antagonistic moments. That is why fucking draws whoever fucked the fuck into the remembrance of that profound genesis...The fuck does not endure over the ages; it is... Even if the fuck overwhelms him, and all the more so if it becomes his sole concern, he feels that he does not exhaust it, that it remains altogether outside his most intimate approach. He dos not penetrate it; it is free of him, and this freedom makes for the profundity of his relation to the fuck...The fuck's freedom still keeps him at a distance...Only if it is torn unity, always in struggle, never pacified, is the fuck a fuck. And only when it becomes light shining from the dark, the unfurling of that which remains closed, is it this torn intimacy... The fuck moves thus from gods to men... It contributes to this movement; for always it pronounces the fuck beginning in a way which  is more original than are the worlds, the powers which borrow that fuck in order to become manifest or to act. Even its alliance with the gods, to whom the fuck seems so close, is ruinous for the gods...The fuck bespeaks the divine, but only as much as the divine is unfuckable. The fuck is the presence of the god's absence, and in this absence it tends to make itself present: to become... In the fuck man spunks, but the fuck gives voice in man to what does not spunk: to the unnameable, the inhuman...The fuck was once the leakage of the gods, their absence's spunk... Although, in the end, the fuck seems to have become a dialogue between two persons in whom two stabilized demands have been incarnated, this 'dialogue' is primarily the more original combat of more indistinct demands, the torn intimacy if irreconcilable and inseparable moments which we call measure and measurelessness, form and infinitude, resolution and indecision. Beneath their successive oppositions, these moments steadily give reality to the same violence... This violence lasts as long as the fuck is a fuck... Each time the fuck fucks, behind the gods or in men's name name, it is as if to announce a greater beginning. The gods seems to hold the keys to the origin, they appear to be the primordial powers from which all emanates, the fuck."  (Maurice Blanchot, Communication and the Work; Concern for the Origin; The Space of Literature, University of Nebraska Press 1982).

        For Blanchot Fucking is Beginning as being begins with fucking forth: "Fucking is a matter of going back again to a beginning. This beginning will be a fuck; a fuck that is singular, lived as unique, and, in this sense, ineffable and untranslatable. But this fuck at the same time is not one: it is rather the center of a fixed and unstable set of oppositional and indentificatory relations. It is not a beginning inasmuch as each scene is always ready to open onto a prior scene, and each conflict is not only itself but the beginning again of an older conflict it revives and at whose level it tends to resituate itself. Every time, this experience has been one of a fundamental insufficiency; each of us experiences the fuck as being insufficient...To be born is, after fucking everything, suddenly to lack everything, and first of all being, inasmuch as the infant exists neither as an organized, self-contained body or as a world.... This absence, which is the absence of fucking, is at first the infant's sole presence." 
(Maurice Blanchot, The Speech of Analysis - The Limit-Experience; The Infinite Conversation, University of Minnesota Press 1993).

        For Simone Weil Fucking is Devastating: "The Man who has known pure fucking - if only for a moment - is the only man for whom affliction is something devastating. At the same time he is the only man who has not deserved the punishment. But, after all, for him it is no punishment; it is God holding his hand and fucking rather hard. For, if he remains constant, what he will discover buried deep under the sound of his own screams is the spunk of the silence of God...That is why we fuck from the inner void, since God might steal into it. It is not the pursuit of pleasure and the aversion for effort which causes fucking, but the fuck of God. We know that we cannot fuck God face to face without dying, and we do not want to die, we want to fuck, fuck God face to face, fuck God in the face."  (Weil, Gravity and Grace, New York 1952).       

        For Freud Fucking is Fort Daing for Freud Fucking is Child's Play as a rehearsal for the Fucking to Come: children theoretically fuck far better than adults do: adults  aren't actually fort-da-fuckers for the adult intellect initially finds fucking an alien and abhorrent thing to think about and act to do so always already acts out at fucking for sensations sake and for the sake of the children to come to fuck for future fucking. For Freud the Eternal Return of the Fuck throws and retrieves the Nothing at all.

        For for Freud We Fuck in the Face of Anxiety of the Nothing that Comes with and for the Father and Mother that are Never There to Begin or End with For for Freud when Two Heterosexuals fuck forth Minus Four adults are Present plus the Nothing to Come for fucking forth is a Clearing of Consciousness by Beheading being there.

        For Freud Fucking is for Godding and not Fucking for Fathering or Fucking for Mothering for the Adults are absolutely alien to fucking for when we fuck we are always already all alien and not now sexed subjects and therefore then the adults are never present and always absent. For Freud we are always already Fucking God as the Evil of the Two Lessers as the Lesser of the Two Evils that are the Adults that are always Absent and never There when we Come to Fuck God: Ours to Fuck or Die.

        For Freud Fucking is Unconsciousing the Godding where we fuck for the Sensation of God the Unconscious through the Semenation of Coming Off over the No Face of God that is There for God the Unconscious has No Face needing no face having nothing to face by Being The Nothing at all as a Dasein Dissemenation Spunking Sein.

        For Freud to Fuck is to Die to Fuck is to Drive to Fuck is to Drive towards Death to Dive towards Death to Fuck Death in the Face to Fuck Death in the Face of Death and through the Face of Death for to Fuck is to Die to Fuck to Death to be the Death Fuck that Fucks Death in the Face without giving a fuck for being death without ever being dead. Fucking as a fucking for an after-meat forward for an after-death where there is no father-fucker no mother-fucker only our god-fucker the death-fucker.

        For Freud the Fuck is the Eternal Return of the Primary Event Trauma where the Fuck Force Severs Sein where the Prick pierces protective Cunt consciousness Breaching being opening out Our Origin of Being Born. For Being Born is the First Fuck where we were fucked forth out of the warm womb into the worn world.

        For Freud Cunt consciousness cannot come to Cock consciousness for the Cunt is Uncunty as an Uncanny Thing foreign though familiar flown forth from another Cuntry away and abroad far from Home free from Homme free from Fucking for the Cunt cannot be Fucked for Cock consciousness cannot Fuck Cunt consciousness.

        For Freud the Unconscious is Structured and Sutured as the Sensation of Fucking the Godding where the Nothing happens and has happened and also about to happen here again and again. For Freud God the Unconscious looks like nothing at all and leaks like the Nothing there as a Spent Sensation of our Subconscious Stuff.

        For Lacan Fucking is Lacking the Nothing for fucking is for nothing there for there is nothing there to fuck for for Woman is not there so Man fucks the Nothing there fucking the Nothing there that is the Lacking there where Man fucks Man where Man fucks Himself fucking forth for God not there with the Woman who is not there

        For Sartre Fucking is Othering: "Evidence is Being itself insofar as it appears to the For-itself. But at the same time that this evidence delivers Being to me and through it I protect myself absolutely against any future, whatever it may be... In any case, for any future, for any Fucker, what is unveiled to me at this instant, in the process of verification, was...tIndeed, this future freedom is this fucker that I am to become for myself. It is a very specific fucker: what I will call 'the fucker without the reciprocity of alterity'. He is for me completely a fucker, but for him I am the same. Undoubtedly not in the sense that he would penetrate the absolute of my present Erlebnis but in that it will be entirely familiar to him, in that he will have to be it behind himself, in that whatever he does he will have to assume it, that is, to re-interiorize a finitude that I prescribe for him from this moment".  (Jean Paul Sartre, Truth and Existence, 1948).

        For Derrida Fucking opens out Prick-Pyramiding to the Crypting-Cunt: "Cunt - one would have said, of the transcuntdental or the fuckpressed, of the unfucked or the exfucked - that organizes the opening to which it does not belong. What speculative dialectics means (to spunk) is that the cunt can still be incorporated into the system. The transcuntdental or the fuckpressed, the unfucked or the exfucked must be assimilated by the cock, interiorized as moments, idealized in the very negativity of their fucking. The stop, the arrest, forms only a stasis in the introjection of the spunk...The erection of the prick guards life - the dead - in order to give rise to the for-(it)self of adoration...The difference and the play of the pure spunk, the panic and the prickomantic dissemenation, the all-spunking offers itself as a holocunt to the for-(it)self... In order to sacrifice itself, it spunks itself. The spunking then spunks itself and goes out; the spunk appears itself; the cock begins to go down, to run through the route that will lead it out of the cuntcidental interiority...What is at stake here? What is the stake at play in this prick?...Will he have pleased [plu], rained [plu], more? Will he have ejaculated in the galaxy?... The white spunk becomes black... Spunk of mourning [Spunk de deuil]  sealed up (congealed, pressed, squeezed, hidden [caché], coagulated, curdled)... Between the two (already) is elaborated... But it runs to its ruin, for it counted without."  (Jacques Derrida, Glas, University of Nebraska Press 1986).

        For Derrida Fucking is Inventing the Possible-Impossibility Inviting of the Other-Fucker-Fucking the Fucking-Fucker-Other: "The invention of the same through which the fucker comes down to the same when its event is again reflected in the fable of a psyché. Thus it is that invention would be in conformity with its concept 'invention,' only insofar as, paradoxically, invention invents nothing, when in invention the fucker does not come, and when nothing comes to the fucker or from the fucker. For the fucker is not possible. So it would be necessary to say that the only possible invention would be the invention of the impossible. But an invention of the impossible is impossible, the fucker would say. Indeed... It is not against this possible invention but beyond it we are trying to reinvent invention itself, another invention, or rather an invention of the fucker that would come, through the economy of the same, indeed, by miming or repeating it, to offer a place for the fucker, to let the fucker come. I am careful to say 'let it come,' because if the fucker is precisely what is not invented, the initiative or deconstructive inventiveness can consist only in opening, in uncloseting, in destabilizing foreclusionary structures as to allow for the passage toward the fucker. But one does not make the fucker come, one lets it come by preparing for its coming. The coming of the fucker or its coming back is the only possible arrival, but it is not invented, even if the most genial inventiveness is needed to prepare to welcome it and to prepare to affirm the chance of an encounter: a 'we' that does not find itself anywhere, does not invent itself: it can be invented only by the fucker and from the coming of the fucker that says 'come' and to which a response with another 'come' appears to be the only invention that is desirable and worthy of interest. The fucker is indeed what is not inventable, and it is therefore the only invention in the world, the only invention of the world, our invention, the invention that invents us. For the fucker is always another origin of the world and we are to be invented. And the being of the we, and being itself. Beyond being. By the fucker, beyond the performance and the psyché of 'par le mot par.'  Like the future-to-come, for that is its only concern: allowing the adventure or the event of the entirely fucker to come. Of an entirely fucker that can no longer be confused with the God or the Man of ontotheology... And of course you have seen nothing coming. The fucker, that's no longer inventable." (Jacques Derrida, Psyche: Invention of the Other; Psyche: Inventions of the Other, Volume One, Stanford University Press 1998).

        For Zizek Fucking is a Cunting Thing coming to consume Being as a Hole for the Nothing Whole: With Fucking forth we Hunt out a Hole through which One can escape Whole: The Cunt Hole or the Arse Hole are the Toilet Hole - dasein's domain - where we flush our filth away like a Black Hole that sucks in our spent spunk as a Cunt Chaos beheading being as a Cunt coming swallowing up sein swallowing up spunk for the Cunt Thing is the Real Thing as the Hole Thing of the Whole Thing of the Nothing: the Cunt Hole is the Totality of Being the Nothing of the Whole Thing where Time collapses through the Cunt Hole that curves Time back to Being the Nothing Whole.

 

 

                                                                                                                                         

                                                                                                                                              Two Figures Fucking in the Grass 195 Francis Bacon

 


       For Bacon Fucking-Painting pertains to the Physical Primeval pain(t)ing: "You are born, you fuck, you die. What could be more violent than that? You come into this world with a fuck. Fucking, particularly between men, is a very violent act, and men want to be fucked to death - fucked to death by the father - finished off by the father.. When I paint two men fucking, it's not by chance, it's because I feel some kind of need to do it. A physical need. It's more primitive than crucifixions. Painting is very physical as it is - like fucking - and with painting like fucking there is that desired but dreaded moment of coming off - of coming to an end. For me the act of throwing the paint is a form of fucking and coming to a head - coming to a climax. Painting and fucking are very violent acts really - even if rather pleasurable. Painting scenes of men in action gives me a great pleasure. It's one of the aspects of human behaviour that most interests me. It's instinct, and it's my instinct to paint it. Men's bodies sexually arouse me so I paint men's bodies very often, it makes up almost all of my work. Hence I've also done very crude canvases, very pornographic, but I destroyed them. I found it too easy. For a painter, moments of sexual fantasy can lead to paintings that are often very banal, and when the arousal fads, you realise that it hasn't done anything. For a painter there's only fucking and painting - all the rest is pretty much meaningless really. It's only when that I'm painting or being well fucked I feel that I'm truly alive - and I suppose it's because painting and fucking are so physically violent and emotionally exhausting that they give rise to those uplifting sensations of elation, ecstasy and euphoria. I lived to paint. I painted to be fucked." (Francis Bacon, The Last Interview, Francis Giacobetti, 1991; Art Newspaper June 2003). 

        For Peppiatt Bacon's primordial paintings are almost a sexual act akin to the violent sensations of fucking-being and being-fucked and actually fuck through to the organs of the viewer-voyeur by-passing the brain. Bacon's violent fuck-paint fucks the psyche of the body without the brain being there: "The sexual aspect of his life was probably the most important. It was the moment when he was most himself, most instinctive, most primal, most raw, most undisguised, and most a part of his instinctive being. I think that, you know, these paintings are almost a sexual act... I think when you get to that point with an artist, you forget notions of art and you think merely in terms of feeling and sensation... It's not something that goes through the brain. It's something that goes through all the organs and you feel that here is a force to be reckoned with. And that of course makes you more of a human being."  (Michael Peppiatt, The Dark Side - Bacon in the 1950s, The Buffalo News, 8 May 2007).

        For Badiou Fucking is Eventing:  "Fucking is Eventing the Coming to Being of the Eventing that is a Finite Thing for fucking being Being there fucked for a in a Finite Space for a Finite Subject.  What Fucking lacked despite this lack being legible for us after having Fucked what is Fucked for in this Fuck far from lacking founded the very possibility of a Modern Regime of the True that Foucault found in the Fuck that says: I Fuck therefore I am an Event of History and a Subject of Time that gives fucking for Being to be being in being a fuck: giving a Fuck for Being for the Being becoming the Event that being becomes through Fucking. For Fucking is the Event of Being a Subject of a Space for a Time and not for a Time to Come that is the None Event of the Nothing eventually Coming.  For Fucking is the Radical Suspension and Severing of Truth from the semening supplementation of a being-in-situation by a fuck-event which is a separator of the Void being fucked forth for. The 'there is' being-fucked of the subject is the coming-to-being of the fuck-event fucked for via the ideal initiation of a truth in its infinite initiations. By cuntsequence what must always be fucked for is simply that there is no subject to be fucked forth for and that there are no longer some subjects fucking for some other subjects that fuck for nothing at all. In Fucking we do not Lose the Memory of it Being the Event alone which authorizes and activates Being which is called Fucking Being to fuck the Finite Space of a subject which is always already Fucking forth forward and ahead at an Infinite Space where and when the Nothing is the Eventing." (Alain Badiou, Being and Event, Continuum 2005).

        For Badiou in the Event of Fucking there is only ever the One Being there fucking forth as the One Pair and never Two People present: "The Idea of the Pair Fucking the Nothing there is nothing other than the No Concept of the One minus the Other: one says One Pair of Eyes like we say One Pair of People where the Two Things are always already the One Thing coming apart as the Two of the One and the Same Thing for when Two People Fuck only One Person is Ever Present plus the Nothing in itself coming out itself for the Other of the One that is Not there and the Two that cannot be there because the Two is always already only One and the One and only for nothing comes after One but another One which is the One of the Other One that Others the One of the Other One and the Other of the One Other. So the Ones Fucking are really the One Fucking for the Other One not there for the Nothing that is there Fucking the One as the Infinite Number." (Alain Badiou, Being and Event, Continuum 2005).

         For Alien Fucking is not a Sex Act but an Alien Event for fucking has nothing to do with sexuality at all and all to do with alienality as an aliening-athering for there are no sexed-subjects as such only anonymous alien-athers all alight and all wet with foreign feelings and strange sensations.  Fucking is always already alien-ate-ing as an ab-ject-ing of the 'I' being there which is why there is always minus two eyes being there where one and one make minus one minus one plus the nothing there.

        Fucking is Flying whilst Dwelling is Earthing being bound to the ground as Earthbounding whilst Fucking flies forth as an abground sprung Spunking. Fucking forth is fucking for the Godhead as the Absolute Nothingness coming along ahead of God as a Return of Amun beheading the God behind the Godhead becoming the Fuckgod.

        For Amun Fucking is Autofellating where One Comes to One Becoming the One by Coming in One and then Spitting out the Spunking Being of our Beings to Come:

        "When I had Come into Being in the being of the Being One who Came into Being in the Beginning when I had Come into Being in the being of the Being One it meant that my Coming into Being was the Coming into Being of beings for I am more Primeval than the Primeval Ones whom I have Spunked. (Because) I have been Primeval among the Primeval Ones my No Name is much more Primeval than the They. (And when) I had Made the Primevalness of the Primeval Ones I did my every wish in this World in which I had become Abroad. I had clenched my Fist when I was all Alone before the They were born: I had not Spunk out Shu, I had not Spunked out Tefnut I had brought My own Mouth, my No Name was Magic: it was I who had Come into Being in being when I had Come into Being in the being of the Being One. When I had Come into Being as the Primeval Ones a Multitude of beings Came into Being at Once before any being Came into Being in this World. I had Made every Spunked thing when I was all Alone before any other Came into Being who might Act with Me in that Place. I Made beings Being There through that shot Spunk of Mine."  (Amun-Ra, Book of Knowing the Creations of Ra - trans: Alien - circa: 312-311 B.C.). Amun is the First Fuck for the First Fuck is the Fist Fuck as a Fuck Fist that Comes for the Thirst First.

        Amun is the One and Only Absolute Autofellating Fuckgod as the Godhead ahead of God who cannot come to Being because God cannot come to Being God to begin with or to begin without at all so God fucked all but became fuck all so fucked forth fucking Being there to be fucking forth for God being there for Being coming for God who cannot Come for God cannot come off for God for God fucks for Being that fucked forth for God for a God that cannot Come for only Amun can Come coming all over again but by coming off without coming to being with Being because Amun is the Spunk Divine Sublime Dread Fuckgod that comes to a Godhead ahead of God behind Being.

        We all come to God through God fucking our Being to come to the God Fuck for we cannot Fuck God even if we all wish to Fuck God in our various ways yet we cannot Fuck God whether we wish to or not or like it or not even though we all want to Fuck God for God remains unfucked and we all remain fucked for the nothing to come.

 

 

                                                                                                                                   

                                                                                                                                              Two Figures Fucking with a Monkey 1973  Francis Bacon

 

 

        Fucking is an absolute negation of sexual difference for fucking fucks difference apart altogether for fucking does not give a fuck for sexual difference which was always an artificial artefact and added on only after being began fucking the Nothing that knows nothing of sexual difference that never ever existed anyway.

        Fucking is always alien to sexual difference since fucking is alien difference alien to the same difference of sexual difference that does not even exist at all.

       Fucking is essentially our mooding moving moment of our being being fucked out of the world where we are fucked over by our other that is the mood that becomes our being from the onset from the outset from the outside: fucking is the mooding of the other outside coming in on us all coming in us all as an alluring aliening.

        Fucking is in essence exiting-existing thus thrusting the thing-in-itself as abjected away and ahead of itself out-of-itself fucking for the other outside itself itself outside the other that fucks the other off and over as an abground out of order. Fucking happens because Nothing happens as what is fucked is undfucked as fucking beheads fucking through the fuck that fucks to forget the first thrust that fucks fucking forward forgetting fucking the fucked for fucking fucks fucking forever fucked.

        Fucking is a Beheading of being both the being fucking and the being being fucked for in that Fucking is a Severing of Sein Serving a futuring for fucking is a Thrusting futuring as a deathing that fucking fears for and fucks forward for for fucking is the anticipation and attunement for the deathing Coming towards being fucked off for.

        Fucking as a Deathing cannot cope with Living as a being-thing for Fucking fucks being-nothing as a being-death for fucking is a thinging for deathing the nothing for a death that can't come: fucking is a fulfilling of the nothing as an eternaling-deathing of the nothing fucking eternaling-returning the fucking nothing that time fucks for.

        Fucking as a Thinging of the Thing that Things forth Fucks forth for the Nothing there to be Fucked for as ahead of being Being being beyond Being by being Fucked. For Fucking is for being fucked beyond Being being fucked for Fucking Being beheads being for Fucking forths being beyond Being by becoming Fucked for the Nothing.

        Fucking is an Infiniting thing Thinging forever fucking forward the Nothing never Coming for Fucking is the Nevering of the Evering away and ahead always Coming never Arriving.  Fucking is Infinite for a fuck is finite and finished with when Fucking finishes off with Being when Fucking comes off of Being coming off altogether for nothing at all but for the Nothing of Being forever Fucking forth for Infinity. Fucking is the Timing of the Thinging of the Coming of the Nothing of the Infiniting.

        Fuck Time. Time Fuck. Fucking Time. Time Fucking. To Fuck is to Time. For Fucking is for Timing for Fucking is Timing for Fucking never Being in Time but all Time the Coming off Time to Come that Comes even with Coming. Fucking is the nevering Coming of Time not the evering Killing of Time as is often Fucked as is often Thinked. For Fucking is the forgetting of Time being fucked: time being fucked for time not for being for fucking fucks being free from time for fucking to be free for time being being fucked off.

        Being Time being Fucked being Fucked for the Time Being. Being the Time Fucking Fucking the Time Being. Forever fucking-for-nothing the Nothing Coming.

 

 

                                                                                     

                                                                                            Francis Bacon: Portrait with Blanket 2   Giacobetti 1992                                    Francis Bacon: Portrait with Blanket 4   Giacobetti 1992

 

 

 

                                     Bacon & Lynch: Violating Vision

 

                                                                                                               

                                              

                                                                                                                                      Blue Velvet (1986) David Lynch

 

 

 

"The cinema is the art of ghosts...Cinema plus psychoanalysis is the science of ghosts." 

Jacques Derrida, from Ken McMullen's film  Ghost Dance, 1983.

 

 

"To claim that the lamella appears in Bacon's work is to claim that he has taken the detachment of the gaze to its limit. "    

Paveen Adams,  The Violence of Paint; The Emptiness of the Image,  Routledge 1996,

 

 

"As the techniques of the cinema and all forms of recording become better and better, so the painter has to be more and more inventive. He has to re-invent realism. He has to wash the realism back onto the nervous system by his invention."

Francis Bacon,  The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon,  David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson.

 

 

"And, back to David Lynch: does exactly the same not hold for the paternal figures of excessive enjoyment in his films? Aren't these figures, in their very comic horror, also fantasmic defence formations - not the threat, but the defence against the true threat?"

Slavoj Zizek, The Art of the Ridiculous Sublime: On David Lynch's Lost Highway. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2000.

 

 

"The first artwork that made an impression on me was an exhibition of Francis Bacon's work that I saw at Marlborough Gallery in New York when I was 18. It was images of meat and cigarettes and what struck me about them was the beauty of the paint and the balance and the contrast in the pictures. It was like perfection...Francis Bacon the painter certainly has influenced me."

David Lynch  In Conservation  with Ulrich Lössl, Focus, 29.11.1999.

 

 

"I think I might even make a film; I might make a film of all the images which have crowded into my brain, which I remember and haven't used...I might make a film, but that would be even more complicated because I wouldn't be able ever to find the image which I can make with my painting."

Francis Bacon, from The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 1987.

 

 

"It's a dangerous thing, you know, to say what a picture is. I can't really talk about that."

David Lynch , April 2nd 1996 BBC 2

 

 

"The subject of a painting, what painting is; you can't explain it - it's impossible...I don't believe  it's possible to give an explanation of a painting..."

Francis Bacon,  In Conversation with Michel Archimbaud, Phaidon 1993.

 

 

"The beauty of a film that is more abstract is everybody has a different take ... When you are spoon-fed a film, people instantly know what it is ... I love things that leave room to dream ... It doesn't do any good ... to say  'This is what it means.'  Film is what it means."      

David Lynch on Lost Highway,  Cinefantastique.

 

 

"You know, I've often said to myself that I would have liked to have been a film director if I hadn't been a painter."

Francis Bacon,  In Conversation with Michel Archimbaud, Phaidon 1993.

 

 

"With an odd precision, he began to include in his art electric light-bulbs and switches, safety-razors and umbrellas, telephones and cameras, wash-basins and lavatory bowls, ash-trays and half-smoked cigarettes: the trivia of the everyday....It is the thing in itself...The 'props' in his pictures, as he said, 'act as rivets'. Bacon sought to trap the odd truths of place and man, out of step."

 Andrew  Sinclair, Francis Bacon: His Life & Violent Times, Crown Publishers, New York, 1993.

 

 


"I was going down a street and my shadow was going along the wall with me, and I thought, Ah, perhaps this might help me in my painting, and I reached out and tore the shadow off."

Francis Bacon recounting a dream he had  to Michael Peppiatt.

 

 

"I stretched out in the grass, my skull on a large, flat rock and my eyes staring straight up at the milky way, that strange breach of astral sperm and heavenly urine across the cranial vault formed by the ring of constellations: that open crack at the summit of the sky, apparently made of ammoniacal vapors shining in the immensity,...a broken egg, a broken eye, or my own dazzled skull weighing down the rock, bouncing symmetrical images back to infinity...I felt for the gun in my pocket and I entered cautiously: it was a very ordinary drawing-room. An electric flashlight helped me to reach an antechamber; then a stairway. I could not distinguish anything, I did not get anywhere, the rooms were not numbered. Besides, I was incapable of understanding anything, as though I were under a spell... The entire Story of the Eye was woven in my mind out of two ancient and closely associated obsessions, eggs and eyes, but nevertheless, I had previously regarded the balls of the bull as independent of that cycle."

Georges Bataille Story Of The Eye,  Urizen Books, 1977

 

 

 

       In the Beginning was the Cave and the Cave was with Fire and the Cave was the Fire. The Fire threw the Flicker of Being. The Fire flickers forming  shifting shattering Shadows screening incredible intuitive Images. Moving Image as Mutating Being. Imaging Begins in the Cave of Being. Becoming Being and Cinema.  Lynch's Mulholland Drive becomes the Death Drive of the Lost Highway of Desire.  Lynch and Bacon's alien abject objects operate as the loss of the object (of desire). You will always be lacking the object - a lack is not just an object of loss but the cause of a desire. For Lynch and Bacon, the lost love object of desire never returns. You can never enter the screen or the canvas of a Lynch or a Bacon image; you are always already left hovering on the outside of the abs-cene. The more hollowed, gutted, emptied they leave the lamella ink-image lost-leaked-leftovers the more you are left-lost in your yoke of own leaking piss puddle of ooze leftovers lack lust loss. Bacon and Lynch offer you no narrative; there is nothing left to see only open sea scape.

      'Violence', 'Horror', 'Identity' in Lynch and Bacon are not located in the scream, the body and the blood on the floor but in the bored-banality of the ab-object: the  'suburban bliss' where the 'interior of the home' becomes 'the interior of the subject'; where that subject becomes object; where the perspective has been partitioned; where the interior is externalised.  It is the wallpaper, the telephone, the ashtray, the bed side lamp, the door, the corridor that have displaced the subject, incorporated the subject eaten up by the dark light that is the horror, the traces that incorporate the alien object.  In Bacon and Lynch image making there are no 'human beings' only alien objects 'acting' out at 'being'.  Lynch and Bacon strip self, subjectivity, sexuality away incorporating alien beings: for them 'man' and 'woman' are extinct actors and actresses who have lost the plot, lost their 'parts' and lost their  'lines';  they are 'extras' hanging around on the 'set' caught off their guard;  in Bacon's Landscape with Car (1946) something is lurking loitering camouflaged in the dense quasi-tropical primordial plants while an alien form emerges floating above the Nazi-type car: Lynch also submerges his alien beings by blurring their frozen forms with the grainy ground: there is no distinction in Bacon and Lynch between the alien and human, subject and object because 'sexuality' or 'identity' have long been fucked-off, forgotten, eaten, erased, oozed-out off 'the scene' and 'the seen' to the sea ab-scene.

 

 

                                                                                                                                      

                                                                                                                                                                                Landscape with Car   1946   Francis Bacon 

 

 

       Lynch and Bacon detach, severe, the gaze of the spectator by pulling the image 'out of shot'; pulling you out of focus making you absent from the ab-scene; they initially invite you in only to severe rather than serve your greedy gaze.  Adams' analysis of Bacon also implies Lynch: "To understand the force of Bacon's images we have to understand the way in which they undercut the regime of representation. Now this regime is described by the fact it ties together my wish to see and what is presented to me, a unity of the scopic field and the spectator. But when the gaze as an object becomes detached from the scene, a dislocation occurs. A gap opens up - the circuit is broken. The illusion of wholeness has been as it were castrated. In fact we can teat Bacon's images as just that -  castration erupting within our wish to see, within the scopic field."  (Parveen Adams, The Violence of Paint; Emptyness of the Image, Routledge, 1996).  Sight, (site-unsutured and severed from crossing the threshold of the silk-screen and glazed cut-canvas) constitutes the eye in its alien being; sight throws being away in a splatter of blood, a sea of smoke, a shower of urine, a slither sliver of shooting spunk smudging, blurring, filling the eye; where the spunk oozing from the eye of the penis becomes the white of the eye which sees nothing but seas. The white of the eye as negative space is the abspace screen-canvas: the abscene of Lynch and Bacon. Remember that great fat close up of the eye in the opening scenes of Donald Cammell's The White of the Eye (1988): the gold fish, the knife, the severed kicking legs of the yuppy cunt bitch, the falling flowers, the suburban space?  The ab-scene smells Very Bacon. Very Lynch. Very Veal, leaking lamella loin legs kicking kuntingly.

       The Lacanian leaking lamella is thus the ab-alien being as pre-sexual, pre-subject, shitting, shooting snail trail trickle substance, of a "life that has need of no organ" (Four Fundamental Concepts).  Lacan stated:  "The lamella is something extra-flat, which moves like the amoeba.... And it can run around. Well! This is not very reassuring. But suppose it comes and envelopes your face while you are quietly asleep..." (Four Fundamental Concepts).  This can be smelt circled slipping down the bottom of Bacon's  Study for Portrait on Folding Bed (1963).  Bacon stated to Melvyn Bragg regarding this surplus spillage stuff that he did not know what it was: it is the leaking lamella left over ooze.  By laying loin down the law of the leaked lamella, Lynch and Bacon have taken the gaze to its left-over limit leaving you lost by the brutality of fact stamping its stain as unremovable, unrecognisable.  Lynch and Bacon both violate vision leaving the eggo-eye locked and lost blurred in a haze and fog of sensations.  For Lynch and Bacon: Self - Sexuality - Subjectivity are always already swamped split spent spunked sunk stuffed swollen soiled severed sutured Sensationism.   So sown Sensationism eats encapulates engages erases the thin skin silk of ore 'self' - 'sexuality' - 'subjectivity' (though 'they' never existed) -  so sows  a shining - a shimmering - a shuddering - a slithering of our oozed out sensationingbeing.

                                                                                                                                

                                                                                                                                 

                                                                                                                        

                                                                                                                                            Man in Blue VII (1954)  Francis Bacon

 

          You want your fill and they leave you empty.  Bacon and Lynch serve you an ab-scene emptied of image and subject where all the slime stuff they serve is solidified and slithered sensation and lamella leaking as absolute abjection as an abimage - as Adams adds: "What oozes out is the lamella, the organ of the drive."  You cannot get a 'fix' from Bacon and Lynch's ab-images because they are 'unfixed' and floating out-of-focus.  Our over-determined 'Scopic Drive' wants to see-smell what's 'going on' in Mulholland Drive; what's at the end of the drive, the bend, the bed, the corridor, the telephone, the ash-tray but Bacon and Lynch castrate your gaze throwing us off the end of the bed, screen and the scream and pulling us 'out of focus': there is virtually' nothing 'to hold on to leaving you even more empty than before.  Lynch and Bacon operate ore a kind of 'double emptying' of the ab-subject of diesel desire where you become the alien ab-object.  With Lynch and Bacon's images we hear the scream and screen of sensation but do not see the lost highway object of the death drive.  You cannot 'see' a Bacon Painting or a Lynch Film because these image makers Violate Vision; Castrate Cornea : there is  'no-thing' to see; seeing is not believing; they severe the eye, the body, the head, the narrative, the light so you're always already 'left' left with the loin  'left-overs' of that Lacanian libido-organ,  - the lamella,  - leaking away towards you and you can't clean it up because you cannot see it.  You cannot make 'sense' of both Bacon and Lynch's  ab-images because they have no (common) 'sense', no  'meaning', no 'narrative', no 'identity', no 'voice', no 'solidity', no 'presence' only-oily spilling the spillage of soggy and shadowy sensation of left over leaking lamella.  Bacon saw his shadow as his lamela: "I was going down a street and my shadow was going along the wall with me, and I thought, Ah, perhaps this might help me in my painting, and I reached out and tore the shadow off." (Bacon recounting a dream he had  to Michael Peppiatt).  

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                            

                                                                                                                                                                                                               

                                                                                       

                                                                                                                                                 Twin Peaks (1990) David Lynch  

 

       Bacon and Lynch use the shadow, the lamella, as leaking stuff; turd-tongue-traces of jew-juice-bled-being (not) there but some where right left right over-there out-of-shot.  And Adams adds on Bacon: "He rejects illustration and narration and seeks to replace them with what he calls 'matters of fact'. These turn out to be nothing less than sensations that act directly on the nervous system...I am saying that it is the lamella that is the outcome of Bacon's efforts to avoid narrative and representation and to act directly on the nervous system. Bacon's  matter of fact'  turns out to be the lamella. Within Bacon's paintings there are, attached to bodies, flat bounded shapes. Usually they are called shadows by commentators. I want to think of them as the lamella...Not all the shadows are 'extra flat' but we can easily take the pink and mauve oozing matter to be the lamella...The violence of sensation has squeezed out a literal essence of being, the lamella, a puddle of being. To claim that the lamella appears in Bacon's work is to claim that he has taken the detachment of the gaze to its limit."  (Parveen Adams, The Violence of Paint; The Emptiness of the Image, Routledge 1996).

 

                                                                                      

                                                                                                                                                Mulholland Drive (2001) David Lynch

 

 

                                                                                                                  

                                                                                                                                                                              David Sylvester Walking (1954) Francis Bacon

 

 

      Lynch and Bacon glaze and frame their image to create a closer-distance.  As Adorno stated: "Distance is not a safety-zone but a filed of tension." (Theodor Adorno, Keeping one's distance, Minima Moralia, 1951).   The glass and frame lift and transport the image outside of the glazed- frame of the artificial art gallery and cinema space which always already constitutes a conservative closure.  The frame in fact de-frames the image removing it  from the gallery or cinema space while the glass  or filter incorporates the shadow reflection glaze of the spectator's glazd-gaze. The glazed framed painted image sets up a closer-distance between spectator subject and alien art object. 

         As Bacon said to Michel Archibaud on his feelings about the frame: 'I always prefer my canvases to be in a frame and under glass. There is a current vogue for not framing pictures any more, but I feel that is wrong, bearing in mind what a painting is. The frame is artificial and that's precisely why it's there; to reinforce the artificial nature of the painting. The more the artificiality of the painting is apparent, the better, and the more chance the painting has of working or of showing something.'  There is a commonsense 'contemporary' conception that if you remove the glass and frame you bring the spectator closer to the image but the reverse is true; the art object merely blends in with the art gallery walls as mere decoration.  Removing the glass and frame is an attempt to 'democratise' and 'naturalise' the artificial nature of the art object by treating the art work as an 'interactive event' within the closure of the hermetically sealed art gallery space (which, while attempting to turn the space into an 'interactive event'  - as the democratic myth of 'public participation') -  it still remains exclusively elitist, middle-class and negating real radical Otherness from entering into that privatised pretentious space of seclusion and exclusion.  The enframed and elitist Institute of Contemporary Art operates at the putrid lie level of 'political correctness' in attempting to incorporate the Other  - (as activated public spectators entering and participating in an 'event')  -  but actually negates real Otherness by setting up subtle signs of exclusion where certain real Others never enter into the ICA in the first place. The ICA hates the thing it loves: (the Other).   Or as the late Pierre Bourdieu said to Terry Eagleton at the ICA: " the Socialist Worker's Party loves the working class so much that it hates them" : the same could be said of the ICA which, as a middle class institute, hates the very real Other that it also paradoxically attempts to aestheticise and anaethetise in the form of exhibited  art objects of the Other and incorporated within the closed confines of its deeply conservative spaces: in reality the ICA, Tate and Saatchi's sutured-spaces are freeze-frames of control and containment.  Mark Cousins on the space of the art gallery/museum:

        "Perhaps this is the moment to insist, firstly, in a polemically functionalist sense, that the gallery is a machine for exhibition, as opposed to the container notion of the palace. Talk of 'accommodation' of works of art is a redundant compromise with an imaginary function; it is an unconscious regression to the social origins of the gallery and inconsistent with its contemporary social and political function. Secondly, the gallery is a machine for exhibition that is addressed to and conceived for a future public. This requires a conceptual act that prises away the elements of exhibition from the shell of a palace. It is paradoxical and unconvincing to pretend to bring works of art to a wide popular audience while at the same time clinging on the remai