I Say They Are 1976 - 1977

David Hockney made this print, I Say They Are, and well, it’s clearly a print, on paper, in ink. Look how the colored bars cascade down the page, leaving a little puddle of residue, like paint, but not quite. It’s this in-between space that gets me going – the art of making is a constant process, of playing between control and accident. The material aspects of this work – the paper, the ink, the flat surface – they all contribute to the feeling that this is a constructed reality. The colors are so vivid and the lines so precise, that they have an almost clinical feel. Notice how the red line bleeds a little more than the others, just a touch more unruly. It's like a little act of rebellion against the order of the composition, but it also relates to the looser sketch of the objects on the left. This reminds me a little of the constructed realities in Philip Guston’s late work, with its rough-hewn forms and cartoonish figures, though here, it’s all a little more restrained, more British, perhaps? Ultimately, art is an ongoing conversation, and Hockney is always finding new ways to keep the dialogue alive.