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British artist Francis Bacon, a heavy gambler, joked that his losses at the roulette wheel were "an expense related to painting." A convenient way of rationalizing a gambling addiction?
In fact, Bacon was being sincere. Had the contemporary British artist not been a chronic gambler, he might never have painted his remarkable Head VI.
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Francis Bacon, "Head VI", 1949, oil on canvas, 36.7 x 30.1 in., Arts Council Collection, Southbank Centre © The Estate of Francis Bacon / All rights reserved / Adagp, Paris and DACS, London 2017.
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Bacon, whose disturbing portrayals of the human figure are emblematic of postwar European art, enjoyed moderate artistic success in the early 1940s. He might have lived a comfortable life, painting only what and when he pleased. Instead, he took his earnings to the French Riviera, where he spent a lot of time playing roulette in the dazzling salons of Monaco’s Monte Carlo Casino.
By 1949 he was nearly broke. Obliged to paint for money once again, Bacon produced Six Heads, a series of experimental figurative paintings, for a gallery show in London.
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Francis Bacon, "Head I", 1947-48, oil and tempera on board, 39.5 x 29.5 in., Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. © The Estate of Francis Bacon / All rights reserved / Adagp, Paris and DACS, London 2017.
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The last image in the series, Head VI, combined references from artist Diego Velázquez’s 17th century portrait of Pope Innocent X and the screaming face of a wounded nurse in the Soviet film Battleship Potemkin.
The image wowed the critics and marked a turning point in Bacon’s career. He became obsessed with Velázquez’s portrait, producing around 45 studies, including one of the most celebrated—and unsettling—artistic series of the 20th century, the so-called "Screaming Popes".
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Diego Velázquez, "Portrait of Pope Innocent X", ca. 1650, oil on canvas, 4.63 x 3.9 ft, Galleria Doria Pamphilj, Rome.
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Perhaps the biggest impact of gambling on Bacon’s art was psychological. He believed that chance ultimately decided whether his paintings were successful. A double or nothing kind of guy, he once remarked, "My work deserves either the National Gallery or the dustbin. Nothing in between."
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"Battleship Potemkin", Dir. Sergei M. Eisenstein, Goskino, 1925, film. Still.
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The vice of gambling is for me intimately linked with painting.
