David Hockney
Tate Britain, 2nd May 2017
OK so this is embarrassing so I will get it out of the way. I didn’t really know David Hockey’s works beyond a cursory glance at a handful of works in permanent collections and some mixed exhibitions and didn’t really know what all the fuss was about (this remember is about as popular an exhibition as TB has ever staged I gather). The idea that his fascination with new “ways of seeing” was somehow interesting or insightful felt like a bit of hype to me. I went it to this therefore expecting to be underwhelmed and finally to be able to write a review that wasn’t sycophantly gushing as is my wont.
Well I was wrong. When he wants to be this fella’s a marvel (though by no means consistently). So if there is anyone out there who didn’t know that (or was I the only one), I recommend you get along to this in the next three weeks before it closes.
So what turned me on? Well not all the scruffy early stuff though I can see its provocations. Not the first phase of LA swimming pool stuff – this is great yes (especially the buildings) but closer exposure didn’t bring to that WTF moment I look for in art. And not the IPad musings at the end. But the so flat, still, alienating double portraits, the room of amazing drawings, a few of the collaged photos and then the Wolds paintings, those paintings, and I was bowled over. I didn’t leave anything like enough time for those Wolds multiple canvasses so I will have to go back. It is like Van Gogh suddenly got serious with colour and that you are racing towards the vanishing point. So new ways of seeing – I get it now. And acrylic paint – no room for error – and the pure skill of the simplest drawings. There is still some pointless nonsense but this can be forgiven.
At Home He Feels Like A Tourist 