David is quite a nice chap. I share my hometown with him (Bridlington) and random paths in life had my father have quite a few antique dealings with him. The oddest ever interaction however was a holiday.
My parents and I were in Sicily, going to the opera. It was in the Teatro Massimo. Operatic guff that made no sense to us, but my mum wanted to pretend to be posh. During the first break, who do we spot but Hockney! We have a quick chat with him and share an ice cream. We go back into the theatre and the stage hands go on strike! The performance is cancelled. We spot Hockney again as we leave, but bottle suggest continuing the evening together. Sadly my father is too proud to suck up to someone, even as famous as Hockney, but perhaps that is why he trusted my father?
His art has never been about how realistic it is. An that is no way to measure an artist. Still, I wish my dad had asked for a doodle and a signature rather than cash for the things he sold!
My parents and I were in Sicily, going to the opera. It was in the Teatro Massimo. Operatic guff that made no sense to us, but my mum wanted to pretend to be posh. During the first break, who do we spot but Hockney! We have a quick chat with him and share an ice cream. We go back into the theatre and the stage hands go on strike! The performance is cancelled. We spot Hockney again as we leave, but bottle suggest continuing the evening together. Sadly my father is too proud to suck up to someone, even as famous as Hockney, but perhaps that is why he trusted my father?
His art has never been about how realistic it is. An that is no way to measure an artist. Still, I wish my dad had asked for a doodle and a signature rather than cash for the things he sold!


