At home one evening in 1951, Lucian Freud did three drawings of fellow artist Francis Bacon. The biographer William Feaver recounts the anecdote as Freud told it to him: Bacon had stood up, undone the buttons on his trousers, rolled up his sleeves and wiggled his hips a little, saying: “I think you ought to do this, because I think that’s rather important.”
By Freud’s own admission, the older painter was provocative in more ways than just this pose: “I got very impatient with the way I was working. It was limited and a limited vehicle for me,” Freud told Feaver. He felt his drawing stopped him from freeing himself, he said, “and I think my admiration for Francis came into this. I realised that by working in the way I did I couldn’t really evolve. The change wasn’t perhaps more than one of focus, but it did make it possible for me to approach the whole thing in another way.”
