The studio, which opened to the public late last month, was dismantled by a team of archaeologists who meticulously sifted, sketched, numbered, and packed more than 7,500 items before shipping them to Dublin along with the floorboards, walls, and electrical fittings from the original premises. But it was worth it. Fibre-optics recreate the effect of morning sunshine spilling from the original skylight. It is hard to believe that anyone could work amid the riotous jumble that assaults the eye, let alone create masterpieces that today change hands for millions of pounds. Papers, books, canvases, and discarded packaging cascade across the floor, while miniature forests of used paintbrushes bristle from hundreds of dirty tins.
Tables creak under tottering piles of rubbish.
The wall surfaces are thick with splashes of orange, pink, red, and turquoise paint. Some 600 books littered around the studio give clues to Bacon's wide range of influences. Along with tomes on Marx, Hitler, wildlife, and Egyptian sculpture, illustrated medical texts underline his obsession with the human form. Crumpled letters from famous contemporaries, including British artist Lucien Freud, were also retrieved and rigorously annotated. To illustrate the enormity of the task, she cites the fact that it took three people 12 weeks to deconstruct, number, and catalogue the contents of just one desk in the studio.