David Hockney- The Biggest Splash
When I was at university, I had a friend who was obsessed with David Hockney. Any doorstep tome on the man who is described as one of the most influential British artists, she would buy. But it was, as posters and postcards around her room would attest, the 1967, A Bigger Splash, which seemed to be key. I even thought her well-filled fruit bowl to be rather Hockneyesque. The late Jackie Collins was also a confirmed admirer of this painting, and although she regretted never being able to acquire it, she had her pool designed to match it.
What impresses most about this show, whether one is a Hockney devotee or not, is the sheer scale, variety and tangible exuberance of the artist’s hand. As painter, draughtsman, print maker, stage designer and photographer, per- haps this should not be altogether surprising that Hockney adores experimentation – and continues to do so at the age of almost 80.
Divided into a set of rather small rooms, this is indeed a picaresque journey of the artist’s personal passion, keen observation, experimentation and unapologetic love of vibrant colour. All the iconic works are here, like the 1961 work We 2 Boys Together Clinging, a reminder of his direct influence on the later American pop art scene as typified by artists such as Jean-Michel Basquiat.
Initially a painter who rendered his canvases in oils, he changed to acrylic on his arrival in California, where he understood and captured the new immediacy of citrus-sharp daylight, which harmonises with and is juxtaposed by slabs of architectural detail. That detail was softened and informed by the male form – modestly in swimming trunks or simply as nature intended as in Peter Getting out of Nick’s Pool (1966), where the rose quartz of a male back and buttocks is centre stage to the background building. This, too, contrasted with the almost sonic interpretation of a disturbed water surface.
Everyone will have a favourite Hockney. For many, me included, it will be those telling portraits of creative friends such as Celia Birtwell and Ossie Clark. Even in this clean, but bohemian, scene, Hockney cannot resist adding a tactile sensuality with Ossie’s pink feet buried in the tentacle tufts of the ivory rug, accompanied by his ‘come hither’ stare.
Hockney’s latest work with, for example, Polaroids and the iPad have not met with universal approval, especially with die-hard Hockney traditionalists. But then, Hockney himself can never be said to be a traditionalist. The Polaroids and iPad drawings show an active, inquisitive mind that has remained quizzical and full of a sense of performance. And of course, his love of colour has not faded. If anything, it has been intensified by technology. The stellar drawings of fellow creators and the like, betray the hand of an undoubted master with their clean, sparse and immediate appeal.
But to see hockney’s own delight in hypnotic and mesmeric imagery, simply take a seat in one of the last rooms in this show and expect to be transported by vast vistas on every wall of filmic, moving forests. It feels like a trip. A mesmeric show.
Until 29 May at Tate Britain, Millbank, London, SW1, priced £19.50 (free to members): 020-7887 8888, www.tate.org.uk
Divided into a set of rather small rooms, this is indeed a picaresque journey of the artist’s personal passion, keen observation, experimentation and unapologetic love of vibrant colour. All the iconic works are here, like the 1961 work We 2 Boys Together Clinging, a reminder of his direct influence on the later American pop art scene as typified by artists such as Jean-Michel Basquiat.
Initially a painter who rendered his canvases in oils, he changed to acrylic on his arrival in California, where he understood and captured the new immediacy of citrus-sharp daylight, which harmonises with and is juxtaposed by slabs of architectural detail. That detail was softened and informed by the male form – modestly in swimming trunks or simply as nature intended as in Peter Getting out of Nick’s Pool (1966), where the rose quartz of a male back and buttocks is centre stage to the background building. This, too, contrasted with the almost sonic interpretation of a disturbed water surface.
Everyone will have a favourite Hockney. For many, me included, it will be those telling portraits of creative friends such as Celia Birtwell and Ossie Clark. Even in this clean, but bohemian, scene, Hockney cannot resist adding a tactile sensuality with Ossie’s pink feet buried in the tentacle tufts of the ivory rug, accompanied by his ‘come hither’ stare.
Hockney’s latest work with, for example, Polaroids and the iPad have not met with universal approval, especially with die-hard Hockney traditionalists. But then, Hockney himself can never be said to be a traditionalist. The Polaroids and iPad drawings show an active, inquisitive mind that has remained quizzical and full of a sense of performance. And of course, his love of colour has not faded. If anything, it has been intensified by technology. The stellar drawings of fellow creators and the like, betray the hand of an undoubted master with their clean, sparse and immediate appeal.
But to see hockney’s own delight in hypnotic and mesmeric imagery, simply take a seat in one of the last rooms in this show and expect to be transported by vast vistas on every wall of filmic, moving forests. It feels like a trip. A mesmeric show.
Until 29 May at Tate Britain, Millbank, London, SW1, priced £19.50 (free to members): 020-7887 8888, www.tate.org.uk