Saturday, 31 March 2012

Paper Cups and Hockney

A paper cup design to tied over the RPA coffee and tea enthusiasts whilst the studio's new cafe is being installed. 




Typically, I liked the washed out version...


I went and saw the Hockney exhibition last week. I laughed when I read that the show's opening hours had been extended until midnight, thinking who the hell would be all like "Yeahhh! Let's go see some Hockney!" at 11pm on a Friday night.... but then I witnessed the QUEUE!! Jesus fucking Christ! It was so god damned long people wouldn't have made it in until midnight the following week.. Luckily my friend got us fast track tickets, so I swanned straight in.... So long, suckers.



Ok, I love Hockney. Discovering Peter C. on the walls of the Manchester Art Gallery when I was 15 was a total revelation. I made my dad drive me over to The Salts Mill in Bradford, my mind had been blown. We sat in the car afterwards eating fish and chips in silence. His paintings and etchings from this era had a huge influence on the way I drew. They were stories; weird, quiet, romantic and sad moments and I felt like every time you looked at them, they became different paintings.


His show at the RA is a whole different story. There's no denying it was big and impressive and in many parts very beautiful... But I don't know whether it was the swarm of hot bodies that carried me from room to room or the fact that the 'room to room' bit seemed to go on for ever, I left feeling overwhelmed and relieved to be out.


I'm about to risk sounding like a total philistine here but I think I just got bored. I missed the narrative and subtlety and the repetitive and vast scale of things didn't draw me to look any closer. I was delighted by the time I found myself in the little room at the back filled with his sketchbooks. Perhaps it was just too busy to be enjoyable, perhaps I just can't cope with rooms full of work with no stories or perhaps things just don't blow your mind as much as a grown up. 



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