Lisa 1957

Editor: We're looking at Francis Bacon's "Lisa" from 1957, a pretty haunting portrait done in what appears to be oil paint. The surface looks almost distressed, or scrubbed away. It makes me wonder, what's *your* first impression, and what do you see happening beneath the surface here? Curator: For me, it's less about psychological depth, and more about the *act* of creation, the material labor itself. Look at how Bacon manipulates the paint – the visible brushstrokes, the blurring and smearing. He's not just depicting a face, but actively deconstructing the traditional portrait. What materials were available? Where was the canvas sourced? Who mixed the paints, if not Bacon himself? Editor: That’s fascinating! So you're thinking less about who "Lisa" is, and more about what Bacon *did* to the paint and canvas to get this effect? Curator: Precisely! The canvas becomes a site of violent manipulation. The very materiality speaks to the anxieties of postwar Europe – scarcity, labor, and a re-evaluation of traditional artistic values. Consider, too, the consumption of images that’s implicit to portraiture, and what that meant in the era of rising mass media. What is the work’s relationship to those economies? Editor: I see your point. I hadn't really considered how the raw physicality of the piece contributes to that feeling. So, in a way, Bacon is using the destruction of the *image* to make a comment on the production of images. Curator: Exactly. It makes one reconsider the inherent connection between labor and visual representation. The making *is* the meaning, here. Editor: Well, I'll definitely be paying a lot more attention to brushstrokes from now on. Thanks for that insight! Curator: And I will be considering Bacon's studio assistants in new depth as I go forward.