Showing posts with label Body w/o Organs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Body w/o Organs. Show all posts

4 Jul 2012

Difference & Sensation: Deleuze's Spinozistic Affect


by Corry Shores
[Search Blog Here. Index-tags are found on the bottom of the left column.]

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The following is my presentation at the Nederlands Genootschap voor Esthetica (Dutch Association of Aesthetics) Utrecht Expertmeeting Kunstfilosofie in Utrecht, November 2011


Corry Shores

Difference & Sensation:
Deleuze's Spinozistic Affect



Photobucket
(Animation above is my own, made with GIMP and Unfreeze,
image from Spinoza, Opera vol. 2, archive.org
, p.233)

Deleuze is commonly considered an anti-phenomenologist. However, I would like to explore the phenomenological value of his aesthetical ideas regarding affection and bodily sensation. The aim of this presentation is to offer a Spinozistic interpretation of certain concepts in Deleuze’s Francis Bacon book. For this aim, I draw primarily upon Deleuze’s writings on Spinoza’s affection. We will regard affection phenomenologically as involving a sort of affective awareness of bodily-given phenomena. We do this because Deleuze explains Spinoza’s kinds of knowledge in terms of the rhythm of affection.

Deleuze specifically refers to affective awareness as ‘the phenomenon of passage.’ It is the lived transition that we undergo when affections transfer us from one bodily state to another.


There are two primary dimensions, then, to such affective alterations.

One is the physical composition of bodies that becomes changed by the affection. The other is the dynamic of the alteration. Deleuze combines these two dimensions of affection, the compositional and the dynamic, by analyzing two sorts of infinities in Spinoza’s theory of affection, namely, extensive and intensive infinities. There is a cryptic diagram in Spinoza’s Twelfth Letter: the ‘letter on infinity.’ Deleuze’s novel interpretation of the diagram shows how it illustrates the two infinities.


Spinoza writes of the diagram that “all the inequalities of the space lying between the two circles ABCD in the diagram exceed any number, as do all the variations of the speed of matter moving through that area.”


We find similar diagrams in Spinoza’s Principles of Cartesian Philosophy. In the left diagram, both semi-circles share the same center. The space between their circumferences is everywhere the same. However, if the semi-circles do not share the same center, then the space between their circumferences will be everywhere unequal.


He also has us consider the circulation of water moving through the space between offset circles. And on account of the geometry of the non-concentric circles, every place along the circuit has a different width and hence “the fluid body that moves through the tube ABC receives an indefinite number of degrees of speed.”

The infinity diagram would then seem to be a hybrid of these two other figures.


Yet, Spinoza explains in his 81st letter that the infinity here is not obtained from the fact that there are more parts than can be counted. Instead, the diagram according to Deleuze, illustrates a mode’s infinite division into differential relations between infinitely small partitions.

Now, although Spinoza’s ‘letter on the infinite’ predates the inception of differential calculus, Deleuze locates in it what he considers to be seminal calculus notions. To explain the concept of infinitely small vanishing values, Deleuze guides us through the remarkably simple and illuminating visualization in one of Leibniz’ letters.


The diagonal line moves to the right, which diminishes the top triangle, all while increasing the bottom one; yet, because the triangles stay proportionally similar throughout the alteration, the ratio between the smaller one’s legs always remains proportional to the ratio between the larger one’s legs.


Photobucket
(Animation above is my own, made with OpenOffice Draw and Unfreeze)

The vanished triangle, Deleuze says, is not actually there, but is there “virtually,” because the vanishing lines have not yet entirely merged together at the corner. So the infinitely small legs of the smaller triangle are still distinct from each other and from the corner they are collapsing upon; and yet, they also do not extend beyond it. Thus, they do not bear extensive magnitudes but rather only intensive ones, which we will treat as degrees of variation. The philosophical idea here – difference without terms – is essential to Deleuze’s Spinozistic notion of affection. And it will allow us to see how Deleuze can use Spinoza’s diagram to illustrate both the intensive and extensive infinities that are involved in affection.

Photobucket
(Thanks en.wikipedia.org/ A.Greg)

Extensive bodies, for Spinoza, are divisible until reaching what he calls simplest bodies. Simplest bodies form compounds when ones moving at the same or at different speeds maintain a fixed relation in their mutual motions and when “the laws or nature of one part adapts itself to the laws or nature of another part in such wise that there is the least possible opposition between them.”

These infinitely small simplest bodies are never found alone, but rather only in infinite sets. These sets reciprocally unite with other infinite sets to compose a more complex body. These compound bodies are then combined with other bodies, and so on to higher orders until reaching the whole of Nature.

Photobucket
pulsing blue balls animated gif
heart cell beating
circulatory system pulsing beating pumping animated gif
circulatory system animation
Egypt protest bridge animated gif
amazon river animated gif
earth from space animated gif
solar system gif
spiral galaxy animated gif
galaxies animated gif


(Credits in order)
(colliding particles: Thanks A.Greg / en.wikipedia.org)
(blue molecule: Thanks M.L. Rahman / faculty.bracu.ac.bd)
(heart cell: Thanks Bluegrass Pundit / scinewsblog)
(heart beating: Thanks Sterile Barrier Solutions / sbsmed.net)
(circulatory system: Thanks John U / quietmoment.org)
(Egypt bridge protest: Thanks Freemanfilmsuk / youtube.com)
(Amazon river: Thanks BestofAttenborough /youtube.com)
(earth: Thanks UweTube / youtube.com)
(solar system: Thanks animated-sun.weebly.com)
(spiral galaxy: Thanks Kanal von beltoforion1 /youtube.com)
(galaxies: Thanks BrainMind.com / youtube.com)

In his letter on blood, Spinoza has his correspondent imagine a tiny worm so small that it can swim through the blood and observe how its tiniest particles collide and communicate their motion. The worm would see that the simple bodies of blood, the lymph and chyle, continually affect one another’s speeds. Yet, because they maintain their mutual affections without one destroying the other, they together make up the composite body that is our blood. The ratio of their speeds is a level of power that must stay within certain limits.


For otherwise, the simple bodies could decompose and enter into other relations. This happens, for example, when arsenic enters the blood. They will not combine. Rather, on account of their incompatible levels of power, arsenic will decompose our blood.

This sends a chain reaction of affective shockwaves throughout the body, decomposing all the other higher orders of differentially related parts. If it decreases our whole body’s power below a certain threshold, we die. Our body no longer expresses our modal essence, but instead its rearranged parts express the essences of other modes, such as the worms and soil we recompose into.

Thus, Deleuze interprets the infinity diagram as showing how a finite body extending between the limits of its size is divisible into an infinity of simplest bodies.

Photobucket
(Animation above is my own, made with GIMP and Unfreeze,
image from Spinoza, Opera vol. 2, archive.org, p.233)


Now to understand intensive infinities, first consider a ball on a chain swung in a circle. There are competing forces acting on the ball: on the one hand, it wants to fly outward, but on the other hand, its chain pulls it inward. As a result, the ball is always tending to go some certain way at each moment in its circular motion. If we were to cut the ball loose, it would not fly-off in a spiral, but instead outward in a straight line. This would also be the tangent to a circle’s curve at that point.
Photobucket
(Animation above is my own, made with OpenOffice Draw and Unfreeze)

The tangent on curves is like a tendency in the line’s change of direction at that place that is only implied in the movement. Physicists use techniques to find the instantaneous velocity of a moving object; it is something like the speed it is tending to go at that moment.


But how can a velocity be instantaneous? Well, nonetheless, it is a real quantity in the physical world, although it exists only as a virtuality.

Now, for a curve moving in a somewhat more irregular path, finding its tendency-toward-change is more complex, and here is where we might use Leibniz’ method.

Photobucket
(Animation above is my own, made with OpenOffice Draw and Unfreeze)

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(Thanks Dr. Siddique / faculty.uncfsu.edu)

Sometimes we can almost feel where a certain part of the curve is heading just by judging its pattern of change. We can also create a triangle showing how the curve’s dimensions extend in a certain region. Then, like with Leibniz’ triangles, we slowly diminish the two triangle legs, and the third diagonal side gives us the tangent, which also tells us which way the curve is tending at that place.

Now, when sets of simplest bodies affectively impact the parts of our own bodies, their shocking collision corresponds with the production of an idea of that object in our imagination. “I look at the sun,” says Deleuze, “and the sun little-by-little disappears and I find myself in the dark of night; it is thus a series of successions, of coexistences of ideas, successions of ideas.” These ideas also correspond to an increase or decrease in our power of acting, and the variations are continuous.

He has us imagine that we encounter on the street our enemy Peter who makes us afraid. Yet, we suddenly turn our glance toward our friend Paul, whose charm reassures us. While moving from the ideas of Peter to Paul, we underwent a continuous increase in our power of action. These variations, Deleuze explains, are ever-altering quantities: “In other words, there is a continuous variation in the form of an increase-diminution-increase-diminution of the power of acting or the force of existing of someone according to the ideas which she has,” and “this kind of melodic line of continuous variation will define affect.”

In the 22nd letter, we find “nothing else pertains to an essence than that which it possesses at the moment it is perceived.” Deleuze reinterprets this as, “there belongs to an essence only the present, instantaneous affection that it experiences.” Deleuze offers an example of this instantaneity of an affective alteration.


We are meditating in a dark room. Then without warning, someone enters the room and abruptly turns on the lights, which completely dazzles us and renders us no longer able to maintain mental focus.

We pass between two very different states in a “lightning fast” alteration: “Two successive affections, in cuts. The passage is the lived transition from one to the other.” Every passage between affections is then necessarily an increase of power or a decrease of power. So if instead we are looking for our glasses in the complete dark, and then someone turns on a dim light, we appreciate him, because then the light increased our power of action. What we note here especially is that the affection’s increase or decrease is seen as instantaneous, which means it does not extend in time. Rather, it is an intensity.

Hence Deleuze’s other illustrative use of the diagram. A body has a certain range of affective power, and when an affection takes it beyond its limits, the body’s parts decompose into other bodies, like when arsenic enters the blood. So consider how there is a largest and smallest limit in the diagram, and throughout it is a continuum of an infinity of differential variations. Deleuze has us conceive this range of variation as representing the range of affective power that we can sustain before we decompose. So this is the intensive infinity.

Photobucket
(Animation above is my own, made with GIMP and Unfreeze,
image from Spinoza, Opera vol. 2, archive.org, p.233)


Now, according to Deleuze, we obtain Spinoza’s second kind of knowledge through our interactive contact with affecting bodies. As we saw with arsenic, the affections of other bodies can decompose us. Yet, in many cases when we are threatened by certain affections, we might know how to modify our own bodies so that we may sustain ourselves.

Deleuze cites an example in Dante’s Inferno. A damned soul is pelted with rain. Yet, rather than let the rain destroy him, he continually modifies the relations of his own body’s parts by twisting around, so that he may co-sustain with the rain’s affections. By making changes in the relations of our body-parts, we send waves of affective alteration throughout us on the level of our simplest bodies.


These internal self-affective shock-waves are in a dance of sorts with the external waves of affection, and their perpetuated interaction is what Deleuze here calls “rhythm.” Another example he offers is swimming. While in the water, a wave draws near us. When it strikes, we and the wave affect each other’s simplest-body arrangements. In that very instant we might be learning how to adjust to the wave’s decompositional forces. By modifying our own body’s composition, we may stay afloat and swim in conjunction with the wave, causing our body and the wave to become a compound, a larger body.

Another illustration better expresses how the rhythm of affection is a matter of differential relations. Deleuze explains that a violin and a piano playing independently do not really produce affective rhythm. However, they may achieve a rhythmic relationship during a joint performance if the violin plays in response to the piano all while simultaneously the piano performs in response to the violin. In this way, they each affectively modify one another while at the same time they modify themselves, which sustains their dual improvisation. And according to Deleuze, Cézanne also describes this rhythmic interaction when he wrote about “how to compose the canvas-easel relation with the relation of wind, and how to compose the relation of the easel with the sinking sun, and how to end up in such a way that I might paint on the ground, that I might paint lying on the ground.”

This portrayal of Spinoza’s affection will now serve to interpret some difficult terminology in Deleuze’s Francis Bacon book. Deleuze writes here that in simple sensations, rhythm “appears as the vibration that flows through the body without organs, it is the vector of the sensation, it is what makes the sensation pass from one level to another.”


The vector here is like the intensity of the affective variation to change its quantitative value. We could then conceive the body without organs as the Spinozistic body composed of continually altering differential relations. Hence, Deleuze writes that the body without organs is “an intense and intensive body. It is traversed by a wave that traces levels or thresholds in the body according to the variations of its amplitude. Thus the body does not have organs, but thresholds or levels.” As the damned soul in Dante’s Inferno twists his once protected side toward the pelting rain, waves of affective variation now impact the newly exposed part directly. It then becomes the site of sensation, where the internal waves of self-affection meet the external waves of affective variation. Yet this status is temporary, because he continually twists in the rain, making instead other parts of his body the new sites of affective reception.

Deleuze continues: “When the [internal] wave encounters external forces at a particular level, a sensation appears. An organ will be determined by this encounter, but it is a provisional organ that endures only as long as the passage of the wave and the action of the force, and which will be displaced in order to be posited elsewhere.” Sensational rhythm, Deleuze explains, can be the unpredictable variance of intensity waves that continually alters our bodily composition.

Thus Deleuze’s body without organs and its waves of sensational intensity can be viewed in light of his conception of the Spinozistic body and its continuous variations of affection, with the concept of ‘rhythm’ playing a similar role in both cases.

This provides us with a more substantial explanation for one of Deleuze’s few attacks on traditional phenomenology, in this case regarding the body without organs in contrast to the phenomenological lived body.

He writes: "this rhythmic unity of the senses can be discovered only by going beyond the organism. The phenomenological hypothesis is perhaps insufficient because it merely invokes the lived body. But the lived body is still a paltry thing in. We can seek the unity of rhythm only at the point where rhythm itself plunges into chaos, into the night, at the point where the differences of level are perpetually and violently mixed. Beyond the organism, but also at the limit of the lived body, there lies […] the body without organs."


Thus, Deleuze breaks from traditional phenomenology’s manner of conceiving the composition of the body as being made of harmoniously integrated parts that work organically with each other and with the world around them during phenomenal experiences. Nothing in its environment would stand out and appear to such a body that is completely accustomed to all the affective influences around it. Rather, for phenomena to appear to us, our bodies would need to sense things that stand out; we would need to detect differences.

A Deleuze-inspired phenomenology would explain bodily-given phenomena that appear to our affective awareness as being based on differential relations within us, throughout the phenomenal world around us, and between our bodies and the world.


Image credits:

Blue and red particles in motion
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Translational_motion.gif
Thanks A.Greg

Blue molecule in motion
http://faculty.bracu.ac.bd/~mlrahman/Research.html
Thanks M.L. Rahman

Heart cell
http://scinewsblog.blogspot.com/2011/04/scientists-turn-blood-cells-into.html
Thanks Bluegrass Pundit

Heart beating
http://sbsmed.net/
Thanks Sterile Barrier Solutions

Circulatory system animated gif
http://www.quietmoment.org/my_weblog/2011/03/mysteries-of-the-human-body.html
Thanks John U.

Egypt protestors on a bridge
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rXbRdumboZ0
Thanks Freemanfilmsuk

Amazon river
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dn53PtW0AnA
Thanks BestofAttenborough

Earth
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hALtHnu4WEo
Thanks UweTube

Solar system
http://animated-sun.weebly.com/animated-solar-system.html
Thanks animated-sun.weebly

Spiral Galaxy
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AD9OV1Zrs4I
Thanks Kanal von beltoforion1

Galaxies
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X5zVlEywGZg
Thanks BrainMind.com

Spinoza. Opera, vol. 2. Edited by Carl Gebhardt. Heidelberg: Winter, 1972.
http://archive.org/details/operaquotquotre00landgoog

Geometrical Derivative animation:
http://faculty.uncfsu.edu/msiddiqu/Maple_Animations.htm
http://faculty.uncfsu.edu/msiddiqu/images/images/Gif_Folder/Definition%20of%20Derivative18.gif
Thanks Dr. Siddique of Fayetteville State University

18 Mar 2010

Liquid Rhythm [70] Francis Bacon: Triptych, 1972. Deleuze on Bacon, Painting Series

by Corry Shores
[Search Blog Here. Index-tags are found on the bottom of the left column.]Link

[Central Entry Directory]
[Deleuze Entry Directory]



[I am profoundly grateful to the sources of these images:
Editions de la différence.
Credits given at the end.]

[The following is quotation. My commentary is bracketed in red.]



Liquid Rhythm

(Thanks Estate of Francis Bacon,
Editions de la différence,
and Tate)


Francis Bacon



Painting 70 of Deleuze's
Francis Bacon: Logique de la sensation. Tome II - Peintures
Painting [70] of the English translation
and Painting [70] of the Seuil 2002 French

A 1972 Triptych [70] shows a Figure whose back is "diminished," but whose leg is already complete, and another Figure whose torso has been completed, but who is missing one leg and whose other leg runs. These are monsters from the point of view of figuration. But from the point of view of the Figures themselves, these are rhythms and nothing else, rhythms as in a piece of music, as in the music of Messiaen, which makes you hear "rhythmic characters." (Deleuze 2003: xv)

This would be the augmentation-diminution opposition. There can be an extraordinary subtlety in what one chooses to add or take away: here we enter into a more profound domain of values and rhythm, since what is added or subtracted is not a quantity, a multiple or submultiple, but values defined by their precision or "brevity." In particular, an added value can sometimes be produced by random spurts of paint, which Bacon likes to utilize. But perhaps the most striking and most moving example is in the triptych of August 1972 [70]. If the attendant in the center is furnished with elongations and a well-defined mauve oval, we find a diminished torso in the Figure on the left, since a whole portion of it is missing, while the torso on the right is in the process of being built up, half of it having already been added. But then everything changes with the legs. In the left panel, one leg is already finished, while the other is in the process of being defined; in the right panel, it is just the opposite: one leg is already amputated, while the other is flowing away. Correlatively, the mauve oval in the center changes status, turning into a pink pool lying next to the chair, in the left panel, and a red discharge from the leg, in the right panel. In this way, Bacon uses mutilations and prostheses in a game of added and subtracted values. It is like a collection of hysterical "sleepings" and "awakenings" affecting the diverse parts of a body. But it is above all one of Bacon's most profoundly musical paintings. (Deleuze 2003: 56b.d)

Ce serait l'opposition augmentation-diminution. Il peut y avoir en effet une extraordinaire subtilité dans le choix de quelque chose qu'on ajoute ou qu'on retire : on entre plus profondément dans le domaine des valeurs et du rythme, pour autant que ce qu'on ajoute ou qu'on soustrait n'est pas une quantité, un multiple ou un sous-multiple, mais des valeurs définies par leur précision ou leur « brièveté ». Il peut se faire notamment que la valeur ajoutée soit un jet de peinture au hasard, comme les aime Bacon. Mais peut-être l'exemple le plus frappant et le plus émouvant est-il dans le triptyque d'août 1972 : si le témoin est fourni au centre par les allongés, et par l'ovale mauve bien déterminé, on voit sur la Figure de gauche un torse diminué, puisque toute une partie en manque, tandis qu'à droite le torse est en voie de se compléter, s'est déjà ajouté une moitié. Mais aussi tout change avec les jambes : à gauche une jambe est déjà complète, tandis que l'autre est en train de se dessiner ; et à droite, c'est l inverse : une jambe est déjà amputée, tandis que l'autre s'écoule. Et corrélativement l'ovale mauve du centre trouve un autre statut, devenu à gauche une flaque rose subsistante à côté de la chaise, et à droite un écoulement rose à partir de la jambe. C'est ainsi que les mutilations et les prothèses chez Bacon servent à tout un jeu de valeurs retirées ou ajoutées. C'est comme un ensemble de « sommeils » et de «réveils » hystériques affectant diverses parties d'un corps. Mais c'est surtout un des tableaux les plus profondément musicaux de Bacon. (Deleuze 2002: 76d.77b)


[Messiaen finds that rhythmic patterns can have a certain character, like how each different bird-call has its own character. (For more on rhythmic characters, see the Messiaen part of this entry, or for even more detail, see this entry). In fact, we might think of such rhythms as themselves being characters that actors might play. He distinguishes three: active, passive, and attendant. The active acts-upon the passive. It is like a sort of violence. Concretely, what we see is the active rhythmic character increases in some magnitude, while the passive decreases. It gives us the impression that the active one is striking-down upon the passive. All the while, there is an attendant rhythm, an observer if you will. His magnitude remains relatively constant. Perhaps the idea with the attendant rhythm is that it is like the frame of reference in physics, considered unmoving, all while the other motions move in relation to it.

Deleuze finds similar rhythmic characters in Bacon's painting, again, active, passive, and attendant. On the one hand, these rhythms express themselves in concrete features of the painting. For example, one figure might be holding a camera and for that reason seem to be observing the other figures. On this basis, he analyzes particular features of the paintings. But in a more profound way, there are such rhythms that are found in how our nervous systems are affected by the paintings. There is a rhythm of our sensations. So the active, passive, and attendant are really more like functions that the figures take-on. And they can exchange and circulate these functions, in accordance with how our bodies are affected by the painting at any given moment.

The figure in the center panel seems to have been elongated by horizontal forces.

(And again, I thank Estate of Francis Bacon,
Editions de la différence,
and Tate)

It seems to be neither increasing nor decreasing. So it does not give us a feeling of augmentation or diminution. For this reason, it serves as the stable attendant rhythm.

All the while, the left figure's torso is concaving inward. It gives us the feeling of diminishment. So it expresses the passive rhythmic character.

(Thanks Estate of Francis Bacon,
Editions de la différence,
and Tate)

But in the right figure, we see his torso convexing outward. When we sense this augmenting force, the figure takes-on the active rhythmic character.

(Thanks Estate of Francis Bacon,
Editions de la différence,
and Tate)

Yet the figures are not so simple, Deleuze observes. One leg gives us the feeling that it is completed. So sense in it the attendant rhythm. The other leg on this figure seems like it is coming into being, and hence is the active character.

(Again, thanks Estate of Francis Bacon,
Editions de la différence,
and Tate)


Yet in the right figure, one leg seems already amputated, while the other, seems to be floating away. Perhaps they provide the passive rhythm.]

(Thank you Estate of Francis Bacon,
Editions de la différence,
and Tate)


The presence of a body without organs under the organism, the presence of transitory organs under organic representation. A clothed Figure of Bacon's is seen nude in the mirror or on the canvas (Two Studies for a Portrait of George Dyer,1968 [50]). The spastics and the hyperesthetics are often indicated by wiped or scrubbed zones [71], and the anesthetics and paralytics, by missing zones (as in the very detailed 1972 triptych [70]). (Deleuze 2003: 36ab)

Présence d'un corps sans organes sous l'organisme, présence des organes transitoires sous la représentation organique. Habillée, la Figure de Bacon se voit nue dans le miroir ou sur la toile [69]. Les contractures et les hyperesthésies sont souvent marquées de zones nettoyées, chiffonnées [70], et les anesthésies, les paralysies, de zones manquantes (comme dans un triptyque très détaillé de 1972 [73]).

[The figures in Bacon's paintings affect us in continually varying ways. They cause us to encounter differences upon differences, all while we feel forced to try to make sense of what we see. Consider the non-sense in Lewis Carroll's Alice stories. On the one hand, we feel compelled to make sense of what is going on, while on the other hand, the inherent non-sense prevents us from doing so. Bacon's paintings are similar in this way: we feel compelled to aesthetically put-together what we see, all while the rhythm of the random variations prevents us from being able to do so. This is a sort of non-sense of our aesthetic senses. It sends our bodies into disarray. Its parts no longer work together concordantly and organically. Hence our bodies become disorganized, and in a sense, a body without organs (see this entry for more on the Body without Organs). Deleuze points-out that in these paintings, Bacon depicts bodies with amputated organs.]

(With my gratitude to


[The armature] can consist in the action of a very particular section of the field that we have not yet considered: the field occasionally includes a black section, sometimes quite localized (Pope No. II, 1960 [27]; Three studies for a Crucifixion, 1962 [29]; Portrait of George Dyer Staring into a Mirror, 1967 [45]; Triptych, 1972 [70]; Portrait of a Man Walking down Steps, 1972 [68]), (Deleuze 2003: 104c)

[l'armature peut] consister dans l'action d'une section très particulière de l'aplat que nous n'avons pas encore considérée : en effet, il arrive que l'aplat comporte une section noire, tantôt bien localisée (« Pape n° 2 » 1960 [45], « Trios études pour une crucifixion » 1962, « Portrait de George Dyer regardant fixement dans une miroir »1967, « Triptyque » 1972, «Homme descendant l'escalier » 1972), (Deleuze 2002: 140c.d)

[We might notice how Bacon's backgrounds seem flat. This gives us the sense that the figures would drop out the painting's bottom if they were not secured somehow. Deleuze identifies parts of Bacon's paintings that act like sculpting armatures: they prop the figure up and hold it in place. In this case, Deleuze says that the black squares in the background serve this function.]

(Thank you Estate of Francis Bacon,
Editions de la différence,
and Tate)


Many large contours, for example, are treated as rugs (Man and Child, 1963 [32];Three Studies for a Portrait of Lucian Freud, 1966 [38]; Portrait of George Dyer Staring into a Mirror, 1967 [45]), and seem to constitute a decorative regime of color. This third regime can be seen even better in the existence of the small contour, within which the Figure is erected and which can deploy delightful colors - for example, the perfect lilac oval in the central panel of the 1972 Triptych [70], which gives way to an uncertain rose-colored pool in the left and right panels; or the gold-orange oval that radiates from the door in the 1978 Painting [81]. (Deleuze 2003: 106.c)

et par exemple beaucoup de grands contours seront traités comme des tapis ( « Homme et Enfant » 1963, «Trois études pour un portrait de Lucian Freud »1966,«Portrait de George Dyer dans un miroir » 1968, etc.). On dirait un régime décoratif de la couleur. Ce troisième régime se voit encore mieux dans l'existence du petit contour, où se dresse la Figure, et qui peut déployer des couleurs charmantes : par exemple dans le « Triptyque » 1972 [70], l'ovale parfait mauve du panneau central, qui laisse place à droite et à gauche à une flaque rose incertaine ; ou bien dans « Peinture » de 1978 [23], l'ovale orange-or qui irradie sur la porte. (Deleuze 2002: 142c.d)

[We also find that Bacon's figures are often enclosed by some shape or object. There will be a contour to what encases the figure. In this case, Deleuze notices smaller contours filled-out by color. They are the rose-colored pools and the lilac oval.]

(Thanks Estate of Francis Bacon,
Editions de la différence,
and Tate)


(Thanks very much


(Once again, thank you Estate of Francis Bacon,
Editions de la différence,
and Tate)



Deleuze, Gilles. Francis Bacon: The Logic of Sensation. Transl. Daniel W. Smith. London/New York: Continuum, 2003.

Deleuze, Gilles. Francis Bacon: Logique de la sensation. Paris: Seuil, 2002.



Deleuze, Gilles. Francis Bacon: Logique de la sensation. Tome II - Peintures. Paris: Editions de la différence [Littératures], 1981.


Images obtained quite gratefully from:

Triptych – August 1972
Oil on canvas
198 x 1475 mm each
© The Estate of Francis Bacon/DACS 2008


Deleuze, Gilles. Francis Bacon: Logique de la sensation. Tome II - Peintures. Paris: Editions de la différence [Littératures], 1981.