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Posts tagged ‘David Hockney’

London’s homage to print: Part 2 – David Hockney Printmaker

Last week I told you all about the first of two high profile celebrations to printmaking currently being held in London. The first, Renaissance Impressions at the Royal Academy charts the development of woodcut to create all of the depth and powerful contrast of chiaroscuro in the 1500s. The second unveils a whole new side to celebrated contemporary artist, David Hockney, best known for his colourful Los Angeles Swimming Pools and large scale multi-piece canvases of the Yorkshire countryside, but here shown to be as skillful a printmaker as he is a painter, or, in my opinion, more so.

In presenting this brilliant little exhibition, Dulwich Picture Gallery shows Hockney as a subtler artist; without the distractions of his trademark bold colours, this is Hockney the skilled draftsman; without the almost theatre-scenery sized canvases, here we see Hockney as a man of detail, capturing intimate scenes with a personal aspect, and delivering sometimes simple still lives but with all of the energy of those familiar swimming pool scenes.

David Hockney, Lithographic Water Made Of Lines And Crayon (Pool II-B) 1978-80 © David Hockney / Tyler Graphics Ltd

David Hockney, Lithographic Water Made Of Lines And Crayon (Pool II-B) 1978-80
© David Hockney / Tyler Graphics Ltd

David Hockney, Self Portrait, 1954 © David Hockney

David Hockney, Self Portrait, 1954
© David Hockney

David Hockney, Two Boys Aged 23 or 24 from Illustrations For Fourteen Poems from C.P. Cavafy, 1966-67

David Hockney, Two Boys Aged 23 or 24 from Illustrations For Fourteen Poems from C.P. Cavafy, 1966-67

It is abundantly clear, from the first room of the chronologically hung exhibition, right through to the last, that printmaking has been an important and consistent accompaniment to Hockney’s creative process throughout his career. From his first etchings, amusingly poking fun at his fine art degree (I like the etching which was created using his actual fine art diploma, The Diploma (1962)) and taking a new spin on Hogarth’s The Rake’s Progress, pictorially describing Hockney’s own move to, and development in the US, right through to his recent and renowned use of the iPad as a new digital tool for creating print works, Hockney embraced print and all of the possibilities it provided for artistic expression. His main printmaking stints appear to have been in etching (which lends beautifully to the simple linear illustrations for Cavafy’s Fourteen Poems) and lithography (his print version of his famous swimming pool series being a particularly good example), although Hockney also extended into less traditional print methods – his use of a coloured photocopier to gradually build up a complex image was, for example, particularly effective.

But asides from Hockney’s excellent handling of the medium of print, the images themselves make this show a clear sell-out success. In his Cavafy series, Hockney’s prints exude a wonderful, but always polite intimacy which seems to be characteristic of his somewhat reserved but slightly cheeky persona. With their common place objects and models staring straight out from the print, these images appear to welcome the audience into the works. As viewers, we don’t feel like voyeurs, but more like welcome participants; friends joining in on the happy-go-lucky lifestyle Hockney portrays. In his later Mexico works; Hockney gives us a vivid, energetic lithography whose varying angles and stilted perspective appear to pulsate and dance to the rhythm of that hot Latin country, and remind me a little of the stunningly colourful Grand Canyon works he painted in the late 90s.

David Hockney, Views of Hotel Well III, 1984-85 © David Hockney / Tyler Graphics Ltd., Photo Credit: Richard Schmidt

David Hockney, Views of Hotel Well III, 1984-85
© David Hockney / Tyler Graphics Ltd., Photo Credit: Richard Schmidt

David Hockney, Rain on the Studio Window, From My Yorkshire Deluxe Edition, 2009

David Hockney, Rain on the Studio Window, From My Yorkshire Deluxe Edition, 2009

David Hockney, Artist and Model, 1973-74 © David Hockney

David Hockney, Artist and Model, 1973-74
© David Hockney

David Hockney, Lillies, 1971 © David Hockney

David Hockney, Lillies, 1971
© David Hockney

I also found that some of the best works were the simple ones – a vase of cala lilies, with an accurate and precise cross-hatched background contrasting with the purity of the white flower; a superb iPad image of raindrops running down a window which exudes the cosiness of looking out at rainfall while benefitting from the dryness and comfort of home; and portraits of friends, simply posed, looking straight out at the viewer, prompting interaction, welcoming us in.

It is, therefore, a show with something for everyone, but with an overriding central devotion to the versatile, unique art of printmaking.

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Parallelism – Giving Hockney another chance

I’ve just finished reading the new novel, Waiting for Sunrise, by William Boyd. The novel has something of a Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy vibe about it, and is certainly atmospheric of 1900s Vienna and WW1 London although it doesn’t come to an altogether satisfactory ending. Nonetheless, I digress – far from intending to proffer a review of the novel, I wanted to talk about an interesting theory espoused by therein.

The book’s central character, Lysander Rief, has a mental disorder which prevents him from climaxing during sex. At the story’s beginning, we find Lysander in Vienna, seeking the help of an eminent British psychiatrist, Dr Bensimon. Dr Bensimon isolates a particular incident in Lysander’s childhood which he believes is the cause of his sexual problems. He attempts (and is ultimately successful) to cure Lysander through the use of a psychoanalytical theory, Parallelism.

Dr Bensimon describes the theory thus:

“Parallelism” worked approximately along the following lines. Reality was neutral, as he had explained – ‘gaunt’ was a word he used several times to describe it. This world, unperceived by our own senses, lay out there like a skeleton, impoverished and passionless. When we opened our eyes, when we smelled, heard, touched and tasted we added the flesh to these bones according to our natures and how well our imagination functioned. Thus the individual transforms ‘the world’ – a person’s mind weaves its own bright covering over neutral reality. This world is created by us as a ‘fiction’, it is ours alone and is unique and unshareable…

‘Pure common sense,’ Bensimon said. ‘You know how you feel when you wake up in a good mood. The first cup of coffee tastes extra delicious. You go out for a stroll – you notice colours, sounds, the effect of sunlight on an old brick wall. On the other hand, if you wake up gloomy and depressed, you have no appetite. Your cigarette tastes sour and burns your throat. In the streets the clanging of the trams irritates you, the passers-by are ugly and selfish. And so on.

(Waiting for Sunrise by William Boyd, page 62)

I have no idea whether this theory of “Parallelism” exists beyond the pure fiction of Boyd’s imagination, and certainly a provisional search online seems to suggest that it does not. Nevertheless, the thought process described by the fictional character, Dr Bensimon, immediately resonated with me. Living in London is always a testing place, but there are some days when I love the place; other days when I just hate it. Just as Dr Bensimon describes, on a sunny day when I’m in a good mood, the people on the streets seem to exude a happy community spirit, the music from passing cars makes me feel like dancing, the polluted air smells urban and exciting. Conversely when I am tired or in a bad mood, I conclude that London is a living hell, that music from passing cars is deeply inconsiderate, the people on the streets are taking up the space on the pavement, they walk too slowly, they are ugly and annoying, and the London air is choking at my throat, begging me to escape to the countryside. It may all sound like common sense, but when you think about it, it’s interesting just how much our mood can affect our perception of the world around us. For this reason it is sensible, one might conclude, when making a snap judgment about anything, to step back and consider: was it really that bad or was I just in a bad mood?

May Blossom on the Roman Road, David Hockney (2009)

I decided to put the theory to the test. As regular readers will know, I was none too impressed with the Royal Academy’s latest Hockney blockbuster exhibit. I found the paintings to be mediocre, the colours alarmingly vivid, the content boring and very repetitive. Yet everywhere I go, there are shining reviews, Hockney’s story is played out all over TV documentaries, and English landscapes are the new vogue. So I decided to give the exhibition another chance.

Hawthorn Blossom, Woldgate (David Hockney, 2009)

Last time I went on a RA Friends’ preview day, it was pure and undiluted bedlam. This time, I booked my Friends’ slot at the earliest opportunity: 10am. Upon arriving a little early, I was dismayed to find queues, even for Friends, and even more dismayed when the doors opened at 10am and scores of advanced ticket holders poured into the exhibition before we Friends. However, when I finally got into the exhibition, I took the decision to skip the first 3 rooms – they are retrospective anyway. And thereafter, ahead of me, were the bulk of the Hockney galleries, completely free from crowds. It was bliss. Suddenly, seeing the canvases from afar, I could begin to appreciate “the bigger picture” which Hockney was trying to create. Without hundreds of packed in heads in front of me, being surrounded by these huge canvases depicting forests and Yorkshire landscapes was like treading a path through that magical forest in all seasons. Without the crowds, the vibrant colours were not gaudy but uplifting. When I could see the complete paintings unhindered, they did not appear repetitious, but necessary, subtle reworkings on a theme.

Hockney’s gallery of watercolours and oils on observation was now airy and bright, and the paintings perfectly reflected the seasonal bucolic treasures of the English countryside. In further galleries, Tunnels and Woldgate Woods, seasonal variations on the same view demonstrated how far a season can serve to differentiate the same spot. And these seasonal changes were given dynamic attention through Hockney’s use of 18 cameras to film the same spot from different angles, in different seasons. These films, being shown in the cinema which, upon this second visit, I was finally able to get into, were mesmeric, calming and beautiful as the cameras glided alongside trees and bushes and country roads in all seasons.

Hawthorn Blossom, Woldgate (2009, David Hockney)

But best of all, in my renewed opinion, were the Hawthorn Blossom paintings (featured in this blog). Yes, the blossom looks like hairy caterpillers devouring a leafy bush, and the vast shadows look like the emergence of a sinister criminal, ready to pounce, but these images are also refreshingly original interpretations of what is really quite boring white blossom. They are colourful, without being shocking, very whimsical, and remind me a lot of the work of Philip Guston. On my first visit, I hardly noticed them. Now, refreshed and reinvigorated by this empty gallery, I loved them.

As if to confirm that this parallelism theory is true, when I attempted to revisit the initially skipped rooms at the end of the exhibition, hell had again descended. Like a tidal wave of sardine packed bodies, without a space between them, huge crowds had now filled the galleries of the Royal Academy and it was again impossible to see beyond the square centimetre of painted canvas directly in front of you. Absurd. I therefore felt very sorry for the vast spiralling queues of visitors snaking through the Royal Academy’s courtyard when we left the exhibition after this refreshingly empty experience. They, alas, will get nonesuch the experience, and if parallelism has it’s way, its highly likely that they won’t like the paintings nearly as much as a result.

Hawthorne Blossom Near Rudston, 2008, David Hockney

David Hockney at the RA – A stroll through the countryside without any defining moments

The dials of the huge London PR machine have been whirring noisily in anticipation of the David Hockney blockbuster show at the Royal Academy of Arts. Suddenly the charismatic British artist, complete with broad Yorkshire accent, white beret and a cigarette rebelliously hanging out of his mouth, has been on the front of every paper and magazine. For a new show of his work, simplistically titled “A Bigger Picture” has come to town, hailed as a key event of the Olympic year, as the living artist is practically unique in having the whole mass of the Royal Academy’s huge main galleries turned over solely to him. And the incontrovertible fact is, yes, these new paintings are very, very big. But as the wise (or just disappointed) often remind themselves…size isn’t everything. For poor old Hockney, stuck in the frenzied efforts of an ageing artist faced with the Herculean task of filling the RA space with largely new works created in only a handfull of years, this much-lauded artist has fallen foul of yet another well known adage: quality, not quantity.

The Road across the Wolds (Hockney, 1997)

Salts Mill, Saltaire, Yorkshire (Hockney, 1997)

Garrowby Hill (Hockney, 1998)

The exhibition started well. Once we had passed fairly swiftly through a gallery containing four landscapes of the same three trees in Thixendale, each painted in the four respective seasons, we entered a gallery paying retrospective homage to Hockney’s pre-2000 landscapes, starting with his magnificent burning orange rocky illustration of the Grand Canyon, and moving on to his Yorkshire landscapes completed when he moved back to the area from a long spell in LA (see above). I really enjoyed these works. With their bold but reflective colour scheme and rolling hills (which reminded me of my own Tuscany painting) they were pleasing on the eye and original in their composition. From there, we moved into the first of a long line of huge galleries all of which, as it turned out, contained pretty much the same image repeated countless times during different seasonal changes and from slightly altered viewpoints. The first wall was like a tapestry of small oil paintings which, as a set, worked well. They were pleasant to look at – like seeing a slideshow of countryside views all at once. However on closer observation of any specific canvas, it was clear that the works lacked in painterly technique – despite being painted outside, from observation, and at speed, Hockney does not capture the light or the complexity of the landscape in the sensational way that that other great outside painter, Claude Monet, did. In fact, for the most part, Hockney’s brushwork looked decidedly lackluster, even childish.

Three Trees near Tixendale, Spring (Hockney, 2008)

Thereafter we were met with a strange sensation of déjà vu as we walked form painting to painting, from one room to another. They are all paintings of trees. Lots and lots of trees. He hasn’t just painted forests, but with wall to wall forest views he’s managed to create a 3D forest in each of the galleries… perhaps that was the intention. Trees on single canvases, trees on multiple canvases stapled together, trees on film, trees on his iPad. Trees. That is not to say they weren’t pleasant, and scenic, and all the other niceties one can throw at them – but there was nothing striking, nothing remarkable. It was like bring on a stroll or a drive through the countryside. You look around you and think: the scenery is beautiful. And as you move on, you continue to be impressed by the subtle changes in the landscape all around you. But nothing really stands out. It just makes for pleasant surroundings. That was this exhibition – pleasant, samey and oh so repetitive.

Woldgate Woods 21, 23 and 29 November 2006

There was one distinguishing feature of course – but it’s nothing new for Hockney. It’s his fragmentation of all his big paintings into lots and lots of little canvases. In a way it probably makes them easier to paint in smaller spaces, more economical to travel, and more practical when the size of the walls available at the RA demands huge canvases to fill the space. But on so many occasions, Hockney was painting at a scale when a complete one-piece canvas would have done the job. But still he would insist on painting the scene across several canvases, even though they would then be stapled and framed together (thus obviating the benefits of smaller canvases considered above). The effect of this fragmentation of the canvas space was, for me, distracting, not least when Hockney had not even lined up the image over the canvases properly, so one tree trunk would start somewhere else in the adjacent canvas. To me, all these harsh deep edges, grid-like across the painting, felt a little violent as they jarred with the organic, living and breathing landscapes captured in the painting.

The Big Hawthorn (Hockney, 2008)

Nonetheless, the biggest distraction of all had less to do with Hockney’s compositions and much much more to do with the vast multitudes of people all around us. The place was packed – and this was a Friends’ preview day. Overcrowding has been the cause of much grumbling amongst the RA Friends, who after all pay a rather hefty annual subscription for these rare privileges of private views and the odd discount. In an attempt to alleviate the squash, the RA has started allocating Friends entrance times (causing further grumbles) but despite this, the RA clearly over-allocates for the space available, and as a result not only was every room packed tight but there was a vast queue to even enter the show. This cram did not dissipate at any stage, right up until the shop at the end, where people where fighting over postcards, swiping catalogues within an inch of another customer’s nose and losing all semblance of social etiquette in aggressively pushing their way to the till.

The Arrival of Spring in Woldgate (Hockney on his ipad, 2011)

This crush meant that the very point of the exhibition was a flop. For big paintings require a wide berth to be given before each painting so that one can stand back and consider the work from afar. But no such luck for us, pushed almost with our faces against the canvas, so what was visible more than anything was Hockney’s rather coarse brush strokes, rather than the intended over all effect of the whole. This was not, at least, a problem with the much talked about iPad pictures of which there were some 60 or so. These were blown up (and printed) quite substantially, but lost none of their precision in being so inflated – this was great news for the audience who could appreciate the iPad image from both close up and from a distance, all without pixilation disturbing the effect. However, disappointingly, because the works weren’t shown on iPad themselves, the whole point of this new digital medium was lost, since the images lacked the background luminescence which they would have boasted when created in their original form.

The final part of the exhibition did at least introduce some diversity. Hockney’s relentless study of Claude’s Sermon on the Mount resulted in a series of parodies. These made for a refreshing change – like finding a well lit path again after trawling through a dense forest. The biggest reproduction was particularly impressive. Having said that, Hockney has not added much to his reimagining of Claude’s work, only making it a bit lighter and more colourful. It’s a far cry from Picasso’s reworking of Velazquez’s Las Meninas for example, where he not only poked fun at the original, but brought so much of his own original style into the frame.

The Sermon on the Mount II (after Claude) (Hockney, 2010)

The Sermon on the Mount (Claude)

Hockney concludes the exhibition with a series of films of, yes, you’ve guessed it, trees (amongst other things) captured concurrently using 9 or 18 cameras. Such was the cram in the cinema-laid out room where they were being shown that I could get nowhere close, so in fairness to Hockney, I will comment no further.

The Arrival of Spring in Woldgate (Hockney, 2011)

In conclusion then, this show is like a refreshing stroll through the countryside on one of those days when the sun is out, and the first signs of Spring are breaking through after a frosty winter. But like all walks, you get tired quite soon, and the beauty of your surroundings quickly fade as your attention is swallowed up by the aching in your feet and the realisation that upon walking so far, you have the same distance to cover in order to get home again. There’s too many trees and too many people. Moreover, there is an overall feeling that the works have all been a bit rushed  in anticipation and realisation of the scale of the show. Size isn’t everything, but clear away the crowds and you may just be able to appreciate the quality of the wood from the quantity of the trees.

All the images contained on this post are the copyright of David Hockney.

Written content is the copyright of Nicholas de Lacy-Brown © 2012.

Brit Art is the main focus of the UK’s 2012 exhibition diary

It’s 2012, year of the London Olympics, and to celebrate the fact that this year, the UK will be the focus of the world (hopefully for all good reasons) London entered the New Year with a spectacular firework display like none other. But as the country gears up towards its greatest sporting event for generations, the UK’s major art galleries are embarking on a cultural olympiad all of their own. This is my brief guide of what’s on in the UK’s art diary in 2012.

From the Damien Hirst 2007 butterflies collection

Patriotism is at an all time high in the UK, what with the Royal Wedding last year and the Diamond Jubilee this year, a sense that we should fling ourselves unceremoniously out of the EU and of course those all important Olympics. And it’s a state of national pride which is being more than represented in 2012 by the UK art galleries. Having spent 2011 promoting some of the world’s best artists (Catalan Miró at Tate Modern, Mexican Kahlo and Rivera at Pallant House, Parisian patriarch Degas at the Royal Academy, and of course the Italian master himself, Da Vinci, at the National Gallery), in 2012, the UK is promoting some of its biggest British artistic stars of past and present.

LSD by Damien Hirst

Damien Hirst - LSD - Image via Wikipedia

For sure one of the biggest exhibition events of 2012 will be the Damien Hirst retrospective at Tate Modern from 4 April to 9 September 2012. Love him or loathe him (I tend towards the latter, but not always), he is one of the big stars of our generation, and his works do at least show some longevity, unlike many of his unsavoury, untalented counterparts (unmade bed anyone?). In particular I love some of the butterfly works of his recent oeuvre, but who knows whether they will be included in this show. For sure Mr Hirst’s 1991 Shark in Formaldehyde (“The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living”) is bound to feature prominently” – has it not rotted yet?) as well as his pharmaceutical cabinet (“Pharmacy” 1992). Expect big crowds, and a slightly stinking smell of putrefaction lingering in the air at this show.

The Physical Possibility of a Norm in Formaldehyde (after Damien Hirst) (2011, pen on paper © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown)

One of Hockney's ipad works

The second contemporary Brit art blockbuster must be the Royal Academy‘s David Hockney RA: The Bigger Picture solo exhibition from 21 January – 9 April 2012. This is an exhibition of new large scale landscapes rather than a complete retrospective. While it may therefore lack the naked golden-skinned boys jumping into Los Angeles pools of Hockney’s earlier career, his bigger landscapes look to be every bit as colourful and vivacious, as well as… well, massive. Having said that, the exhibition is set to include landscapes spanning his whole career, and will, interestingly, feature some of his new iPad creations for which he is famously enthusiastic. His ipad works have already been exhibited to some acclaim at the Pierre Bergé-Yves Saint Laurent Foundation in Paris in an exhibition appropriately entitled: “Fleurs Fraîches” so I will be intrigued to see how the works are displayed in this London show. There is no doubt about it, the ipad has made for a revolutionary new canvas for Hockney’s works. Just a shame about the financial side of things…

David Hockney, Winter Timber (2009)

Picasso's Weeping Woman (1937)

Meanwhile, at Tate Britain, a new exhibition running from 15 February – 15 July 2012 will explore how Picasso influenced generations of British artists: Picasso and Modern British Art. The British art on show will include some 90 art works by Duncan Grant, Wyndham Lewis, Ben Nicholson, Henry Moore, Francis Bacon, Graham Sutherland and, once again, good old Hockney. However, I’m frankly more excited by the 60 Picasso’s on show, and hope that the works will extend beyond Tate’s own collection of his works. Although having said that, I could spend hours in front of Picasso’s Weeping Woman (1937) – the first ever Picasso I saw and the one I fell in love with.

Ben Nicholson, 1937

 

 

Ben Nicholson, the tumultuous ex husband of other British favourite, Barbara Hepworth, will also feature prominently in a forthcoming exhibition held at the Courtauld Institute between 16 February – 20 May 2012, Mondrian || Nicholason: In Parallel. The show will aim to explore the largely untold relationship between Nicholson and Piet Mondrian during the 1930s when both artists were leading forces in abstract art in Europe. Promising to reveal how each artist was driven by a profound belief in the potential of abstract to create new forms of beauty and visual power, it’s something of a diversion from the collection-based norm of the Courtauld’s temporary exhibitions and should be a good one to look out for.

Claude Monet, Poplars on the Epte (1891)

Next, that old British master, Turner, will be given the kind of exposure which Britain does so well when bringing out it’s most celebrated artist for admiration. Both the National Gallery and Tate Liverpool will be paying homage to Turner in 2012, the National Gallery hosting a new show comparing Turner with Claude Gellée with Turner Inspired: In the Light of Claude  from 14 March – 5 June 2012, while at Tate Britain, an ambitious exhibition from 22 June – 28 October 2012 will bring together works by Turner Monet Twombly and explore the similarities between them in style, subject and artistic motivation. It is well known that Monet was suitably inspired by Turner’s superb handling of light and fog, storms and mist when he came to London during the Franco-Prussian war. How Twombly fits in remains to be seen – but I’m always open to suggestion.

Reflection (Self-portrait), 1985 © Lucian Freud

Finally, who better to complete the set of British artist masters than the artist who we sadly lost last year – Lucien Freud. In memory of this great artist, and taking a look back at what he did best – portraiture – the National Portrait Gallery will be taking a closer, comprehensive look at some of his greatest portraits from 9 February – 27 May 2012 in Lucien Freud: Portraits. It’s an exhibition which is sure to be a hit, as Freud paints his sitters with uncompromising honesty and intensity with virtuosity and exceptional skill. The exhibition features over 100 works from museums and private collections, so this will be an opportunity not to be missed.

So there you have it, a selection of the biggest and best shows coming our way in 2012. It’s going to be a busy year! Also worth a quick mention is a Pre-Raphaelites exhibition which will come to Tate Britain at the end of the year and the return of Edvard Munch to the UK – in fact to Tate Modern. It is I believe the same show I have just seen at Paris’ Pompidou Centre. If so, it’s a rather depressing retrospective, and won’t stand up overly well next to the superb retrospectives earlier on in the year.

Talking of Paris, I can’t end this post without mentioning one forthcoming show over in the City of Light which has caused me a great deal of excitement – the Edward Hopper retrospective – at the Grand Palais from 8 October 2012 – 20 January 2013. I cannot wait for this opportunity to see so many of this artist’s soulful, introspective works up close. Yes, it’s not exactly Brit art, but then we can’t expect Paris to promote the spirit of the London 2012 olympics… they were the losers after all.

Hopper, Early Sunday Morning 1930 Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

In honour of Hockney: the DigiNorm

So three days into the blog and already I’m jetting off and finding the editorship of a Daily difficult to achieve away from the wireless comforts of the Daily Norm head office. So as I was sat on a flight to Spain today (a few norms in tow, playing dominoes together in my bag) playing with my iPad and finding it ever so slightly limited in airplane mode, I decided to go all Hockney and play with the application ‘Brushes’. Hockney swears by it. He creates (or can one say ‘paints’?) a new iPad painting/picture on a daily basis, sending them round to the lucky few recipients who no doubt pass them on to countless friends who can then boast of having an original Hockney in their inbox. While this poses a justifiable question mark over the value of a digital image which can be mass produced an infinite number of times, it is easy to understand why Hockney loves this new medium – the luminescence of the backlit iPad screen is something which no conventional canvas can boast, no matter how well lit from in front. Hockney recently had an exhibition of his iPad works in Paris, and more will be on show, I gather, in his blockbuster expo at the Royal Academy in the new year. Any how, it was with this in mind that I doodled myself today and have to admit, with a bit of patience, it’s a pretty cool medium, especially in this new digital age. So in advancing the spirit of the Norms’ regeneration in the digital age, I present to you my first iPad painting… The DigiNorm!