NOIR POETRY 365 DAY 006 | POEM #008
[FIGURES w/o MEAT]
I stare at the spurious carnage
with eyes that’d prefer to unsee
verse bluntly carved out of raw
poetry sliced into small pieces
hanging on the electric canvas
blue with empty dried-up veiny
syntax: a poor Bacon pastiche
made of words turned glitches.
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For me, Francis Bacon’s mid-century paintings stand as an impressive visual counterpart to the postwar Noir movement. Bacon's work emerged from the rubble (both literal and psychological) of World War II. He rejected romanticism in favor of a fierce, uncompromising existential pessimism. His work channels the Noir Aesthetic through artistic techniques such as claustrophobic framing and aggressive chiaroscuro. He often chose to depict physical and moral decay, exposing moments of supreme psychological trauma, caught in the harsh glare of his vision's spotlight. If that's not Noir, I don't know what is.
Also, in today's world, I find that Bacon’s raw, visceral art stands as a stark contrast to the sterile, spurious nature of many digital spaces.




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