So sad that's he gone. He was so joyously full of life and ideas that would have kept him busy had he lived to be 150. I'll own up to not having hugely enjoyed his Serpentine exhibition - heavens, it was thronged when I went, what will it be like now? - mostly because it was just one long Insta-opportunity for the tiresome posers whose only response to art or anything else is I Woz Here. But how I remember the sheer'wow' of walking into his 2012 exhibition at the Royal Academy and the exuberance of his Arrival of Spring as we emerged from lockdown. I visited the Serpentine on a glorious spring day and remember wondering how many more springtimes Hockney had left, and wishing him still a few more. I've just happened upon this rather sniffy comment in the Guardian: 'Nor can this artist escape his own vernal temperament, which infuses even shedding trees with that slightly chill impression of possibility that presages spring.'
But how joyfully optimistic to have a vernal temperament and always to see the coming of another spring ...
Well, yes. I bought a new handbag today and thought, will I buy another so I don't have to bother looking when this one falls to bits? But then I thought... I'm nearly 76 and handbags last me a long time...
ReplyDeleteYou sound like my granny, Pam: "This hat will see me out!" You've reminded me that I really, really need a new handbag and if I find one I like - I'm fussy and I hate logos/brand names which they all seem to have - then I'd be very tempted to buy two. Not that they seem to last very long, because I'm hard on bags the way some people are hard on shoes.
ReplyDeleteWhat in the world do you do with bags?? I've now, at last, read Mrs Miniver. Why are you her daughter? Do you have the same name as her daughter? Or are you just a twin soul with Mrs M? (I don't imagine I'm old enough to be your actual granny. But you never reveal ANYTHING about yourself. Maybe you're 16...)
DeleteI think it's the ticket barriers on the Tube, Pam - I always seem to get things scuffed, no point buying anything decent. Wish I was 16 - no, I don't, I wish I was 36, or even 46. Did you enjoy Mrs M? There is no reason at all why I'm her daughter. Years ago, when I was trying to work out how to start a blog but not really meaning to, it just popped in my head - and suddenly I had a blog with a silly name. I like the idea of gracious living รก la Mrs M with servants and tea and crumpets waiting for me by the fire; okay, I'd probably hate it, a cleaning lady can be annoying enough. And Mrs M never has a glass too many or lets rip at cyclists on the pavement ...
ReplyDeleteYes, I did enjoy it a lot. It's a bit like The Diary of a Provincial Lady, though a little more serious. I would also like to be 36. Or even 66. I'm 76, though don't feel it. Oh, I deeply loathe the Tube; not so much the barriers, just being underground. It gives me the willies. I would prefer a self-cleaning and -tidying house to actual servants. But magically-arriving tea and crumpets would be nice.
DeleteI'd happily have a bigger mortgage for a house like that, Pam - I loathe housework, whatever the opposite of domestic goddess is, that's me! There is always something more interesting I could be doing.
ReplyDeleteI quite like dusting. I have far too many bits of glass and such-like around the place and quite enjoy picking them up and giving them a little wipe. But I don't like hoovering. Too noisy.
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