Bacon & the Gift

At the side of one of Frances Bacon's Pope paintings:

- Awww. He wasn't a happy soul, eh.
- No no, not the happiest...
- I mean, there's no happiness here.. with him.. this one. Poor chap.. what's he doing?
- It says .. Pope. Well he's in pain...
-He's happy now though.
-Who?
-Bacon. In the sky.
-Ah yes.
-Yes...
-depression ...nasty business...
-my cousin's still got it...

and so on...

It felt like upmarket Jeremy Kyle. I don't understand the drawer with Bacon's work. The early work.. the preparatory early drawings he said he never did... all good, interesting, but the meat of it all? Basically: big paintings of lamb chops with razor-like rows of teeth in sunsets. The equivalent of. Decorative. Yawning, aching symbols of pain yet I couldn't feel anything save the pull to buy a little trinket, T shirt or limited edition print from the gift shop. Why does the Tate still STILL STILL chastely call George Dyer his 'closest friend'? Bacon used to be my guilty pleasure .. now he's not that. There seems still to be a hidden narrative that would perhaps raise questions about the work ..if it wasn't so neatly defined, framed, boxed in ... while the boxes - those psychological cages -he paints seem to want to run off the walls and take to the hills. So is it another curating dumb down? I don't know. People seem to love it. It just felt like watching Hellraiser number ten millionth with the nightclub owner who screams at his cupboard begging for the pin guy to give him some pain relief after some uneventful sex. And of course, the portrait of the artist as a miserable screw up, with alcoholism and violence loitering in the wings, falls slap bang into that tired romantic myth.

Still. It let my mind run and start darkly playing with "The Gift", December 23rd. A one off re-enactment performance, probably invited audience only as it will be a challenging piece for me. Post Spank in November and post a trip to aktionistik faschistik freudischtik Vienna. The first year anniversary of my accident. And instead of the op-the MUA - the physios want me to have, I shall be having (doing) this. I nearly died (four seconds between me and Bacon in the sky). Will try to get The Whipping Rooms, Cable St, E1 for it.