Francis Bacon’s Head VI can quickly inspire a poem. The claustrophobia within that cage, the tassel that suggests he has been interred with a hornet. That grotesque scream, unmitigated by eyes. Is he caged for our protection; his protection; is it representative of a state of mind or a metaphor for his position; is it pain or aggression?
So many of his works are raw emotion; for me, no other artist hits the gut with such power. All those possibilities carry a different poem; I keep a collage of some of his and other images on our box room wall.