The Friday Arts Diary

Our cultural picks for the week ahead.


Café Oto, London E8 – Evan Parker, John Edwards and Eddie Prevost, 7 August

Evan Parker, Eddie Prevost and John Edwards launch their new trio CD – the first release in Eddie Prevost’s Meetings with Remarkable Saxophonists series. Legendary British saxophonist Evan Parker’s trademark sound is filled with circular breathing and multiphonics, stretched over trance-like lines. He has fuelled the free music scene since the 1960s, both here as well as through his European wanderings – famously contributing to Peter Brötzmann’s 1968 Machine Gun session. Parker is joined by the formidable technicians, bassist John Edwards and percussionist Eddie Prevost (founder of AMM), who have long pushed the boundaries of the musical imagination.


Noël Coward Theatre, London WC2 – Julius Caesar, 8 August – 15 September

The RSC’s new production of Julius Caesar is transferred to the Noël Coward Theatre this August as part of the World Shakespeare Festival. Newly appointed RSC Artistic Director Gregory Doran shifts Shakespeare’s political thriller to post-colonial sub-Saharan Africa, acquiring dark contemporary undertones. The company includes Jeffery Kissoon as Caesar, Paterson Joseph as Brutus and Cyril Nri as Cassius.


Queen Elizabeth Hall, London SE1 – Marina Abramovic: The Lecture For Women Only, 5 August

Performance artist Marina Abramovic has designed her latest project, The Lecture For Women Only, entitled The Spirit In Any Condition Does Not Burn, for an exclusively female audience. The gendered format comes as an attempt to explore concepts of femininity and men are not being admitted to the auditorium. Abramovic, most famous for her 736 hour MoMA retrospective The Artist is Present, is hosting the lecture as part of Antony Hegarty’s 2012 Meltdown festival.


Tate Modern, London SE1 – Tania Bruguera: Immigrant Movement International, 7 – 15 August

Cuban artist Tania Bruguera arrives at the Tanks at Tate Modern, a new space devoted to live art, to take up a three week residency for her art project Immigrant Movement International. Bruguera’s work aims to be an artist-initiated socio-political force exploring the nature of citizenship and values shared by immigrants. Lawyers, politicians and member of the public are drawn into debates around the immigrant experience today.


Purcell Room, London SE1 – Diamanda Galás: Schrei 27, 3 August

Diamanda Galás’s film Schrei 27 - an emotive and critical exploration of the torture of an individual in isolation - produced with director David Pepe, was premiered in 2011. Here Galás gives a lecture on her work as an activist and artist, followed by a screening of Schrei 27.

Evan Parker plays at Cafe Oto (Photo: Andy Newcombe)
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Provocations from a modern master: Andrew Marr on David Hockney

A History of Pictures by David Hockney and Martin Gayford gleefully punctures the pretentiousness of the art world.

We live in a picture-drunk world. A medieval artisan would have been aware, at best, of only a few representations of the three-dimensional world – church paintings, perhaps crude carvings in a churchyard, graffiti on walls. For us, pictures are everywhere, on
screens of all shapes and sizes, on hoardings, in books, on the sides of buildings. They move, they pulsate with digital complexity and they sprawl and glare until they tire our eyeballs and bore us senseless.

This is a book that aspires to be nothing less than a history of pictures, taking drawing, photography, film-making, digital art and painting in parallel and tracking the interrelationships and the borrowing that each involves. That is a huge ambition, far too large for any single volume, yet ­David Hockney and Martin Gayford respond with lively expeditions in many directions and a staccato half-conversation that will keep any intelligent person amused and intrigued for its 350 or so pages.

No practitioner of “fine art” has placed himself at the centre of our culture quite as Hockney has. What he says about smoking or porn makes news. His exhibitions attract vast crowds. He is followed by reverential film-makers, avid biographers and snaking queues of ordinary folk who simply love his bright and life-enhancing images. He also intervenes to ask big questions about the nature of picture-making and the relationship between painters and photography, in a way that no other contemporary artist seems to do.

In all this – and in his tireless enthusiasm for new technologies in picture-making, as well as his curiosity about the rich and powerful – he is surely the Walter Sickert of our times. Sickert’s opinions, as well as his readiness to use photographic images to expand his art, allowed him to bestride British public life in the first half of the 20th century, very much as Hockney does today. Sickert, whose early work the public preferred, produced shockingly modern images of Baron Beaverbrook, Churchill and the celebrities of the interwar years. And so, this year, Hockney had his quickly painted acrylic portraits of the art world’s rich and Botoxed powerful, skewered to their chairs, glaring down at us in the “82 Portraits and 1 Still-life” exhibition at the Royal Academy in London. Both men were gifted with an almost divine facility; both struggled to overcome it, to produce pictures that could be regarded as properly “modern”.

Here, Hockney is paired with Martin Gayford, the author of excellent books on Hockney, Lucian Freud and many other artists, and a reliable, hugely knowledgeable Tonto on this journey. As they take off to discuss a wide range of subjects – shadows, pre-photography use of cameras and lenses, perspective, cubism, abstraction, film-making, digital art – the differences between them become increasingly sharp.

Hockney, with his strong and now familiar views, brings the perspective of a mark-maker to every subject: “If you’re told to do a drawing using ten lines or a hundred, you’ve got to be a lot more inventive with ten. If you can only use three colours, you have got to make them look whatever colour you want.” Gayford, who sometimes picks up on a Hockney challenge and sometimes ignores it, brings a seemingly bottomless knowledge of the history of art and is always a great looker, whether his subject is a Velázquez or Dada.

There is a certain degree of unintentional comedy here, Hockney repeatedly cantering off with an anecdote or salty personal view and Gayford gamely wrenching us back to the high road, but it’s all enormously good-humoured and entertaining. There is so much pretentious cack talked nowadays about art theory that it’s a relief to find an artist ready to use his experience as a film buff, or his thoughts on the manipulation of photographs in the press, to speak about “high art”.

“Walt Disney was a great American artist,” Hockney writes. “He might be a bit sentimental but what he did was quite an achievement. Who were the most famous stars of the 1930s and 1940s? Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck.” And, a page later: “Look at the camels in Adoration of the Magi by Giotto, from the Scrovegni Chapel, Padua, painted in the early 14th century. There’s Walt Disney.”

These are the kinds of stuff that would get laughed out of court in the pompous art world. The same goes for this (­Hockney again): “Art doesn’t progress. Some of the best pictures were the first ones. An indiv­idual artist might develop because life does. But art itself doesn’t.” Most academic writers would hedge such starkness but Hockney doesn’t. Again, very Walt Sickert.

So, where do these conversations take us when it comes to the biggest question for contemporary painting: what should a picture look like in 2016? There are so many derivative, unnecessary and tedious pictures all around us, and so much has been done so well for so long, that this is a real poser.

Hockney’s lifelong struggle with being an artist in a photography-dominated culture has rarely lured him away from the duty of representation or, to put it more crudely, drawing. He experimented with Picasso-influenced, semi-abstract pictures but not for long. He used photographic collages to investigate space but, again, not for long. His love of Chinese art and his inquisitive enthusiasm for graphic artists such as Joe Sacco
have allowed him to find ways to put chemical photography firmly back in its box:

People like Mondrian appear heroic, but in the end his pure abstraction was not the future of painting. Neither Matisse nor Picasso ever left the visible world. It was Europeans who needed abstraction, because of photography. The Chinese would have always understood it. But they did not need it . . . Photography came suddenly and late to China.

On almost every page, there is an interesting provocation. I suppose, for Hockney, his answers are what he makes, not what he writes. However, I would hate to end this review without making clear that Gayford brings perspectives and shape here that are hugely useful. This is not David Hockney Bangs On (a book that I would rush out to buy). There is apparently a far bigger book coming shortly, a kind of printed permanent exhibition of Hockney’s art, a book so big that it requires – literally – an easel, and a mortgage. Sickert would have found that very funny. Meanwhile, start here.

Andrew Marr’s books include “A Short Book About Drawing” (Quadrille)

Andrew Marr is a broadcaster and journalist. Formerly the BBC’s Political Editor, he presents the Andrew Marr Show on BBC1 on Sundays and Start the Week on Monday mornings on Radio 4.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood