12/06/2026
Honouring the wondrous David Hockney after hearing of his passing yesterday at the grand age of 88. I have always admired his work, found it uplifting and managed to locate some of his favourite painting spots along the Yorkshire Wolds.
My favourite Hockney composition is ‘Mr and Mrs Clark and Percy’ not only for its delicate and subliminal structure, but also because it ticks so many boxes for me - fashion and textiles (Celia Birtwell and Ossie Clark) and the beautiful white Percy who looked strikingly similar to our equally beautiful white cat, Simon. The cool, retro 1970’s telephone which I am fortunate to own several, the vase of lilies and the familiarity of the French style shutters all make this a perfect piece for me.
A little true story to share, is that amazingly I very briefly met the wondrous David Hockney after attending a dreamy dance and cabaret style show at the York Opera House several years ago. As we exited the building to return to our car, huddled alone against a brick wall just round the corner in a small side street was the legendary David Hockney, wearing his quintessential flat cap and puffing heavily on a cigarette whilst waiting for Wayne Sleep who was one of the celebrity turns in the show. Wayne very happily declared during the show that he was currently staying with Mr Hockney and he was in the audience that evening. Therefore no shadow of a doubt this was him, the man, the legend himself, eeeek! I very bravely (for me) and quietly walked up to him and waited a few seconds before he slowly turned his eyes towards me. Eeeek! I nervously offered up my show programme with a pen and explained that I’ve always admired his work from being a little girl and would be incredibly grateful if he could sign my programme. He looked at me over his specs but said nothing and took my programme and pen and tried to scribble but nothing happened, eeeek 😳! He then looked at me once again and said in that familiar Yorkshire drawl: “yer pen doesn’t work”. Triple EEEEEK 😳! I took said pen from him and managed to make it work before embarrassingly handing it back to him and said “sorry, I think it should work now” whilst desperately praying to my Gods (Marilyn, Cher, Brigitte and Dolly) and crossing all fingers and toes. Phew, the pen worked now, hallelujah! He scribbled and handed my programme back without saying anything except giving me a faintly cross look and immediately returned to his original composure puffing on his cigarette again. I thanked him and dashed off rather quickly, eeeek 😳! 1937-2026
