1.
Drifting around the house and in my bag while I'm out and about is
Francis Bacon: Revelations, by Mark Stevens and Annalyn Swan
Just over halfway through the 976 pages…
Personally, I think Francis Bacon to be the greatest of the late 20th C. Artists.
Is his work disturbing? Yes.
And yet, astonishingly beautiful in its savagery.
The man himself is an enigma still. Outrageous, timid, sadistically masochistic, petty, generous, full of bravado and self doubt.
I have read most of the previous bios and this one certainly goes all out to be comprehensive.
Though I do find the slightly breathless way the authors go off topic annoying. But that is (apologies to my US friends here, something I often find with US authors writing about European culture.) Someone wears a hat, say, and we are told about her hat… who made it… milliners to royalty, oh yes, any connection with royalty is treated with lots of forelock tugging… on and on…
2.
Next to the bed I have
The Devil's Day, by Andrew Michael Hurley.
So far, so moodily scene setting…
Starve Acre was a genuinely chilling folk horror (The film does the book no justice.)
Hopefully this delivers.
That's what I'm juggling currently. 🙂