DAVID HOCKNEY

J. Paul Getty Museum

Los Angeles, CA

September 10, 2015

Photo credit: David Hockney

His paintings sell for millions. His photography was also a big hit. If things go the way I am hoping, this photo taken by David Hockney could be the last one I need. Then I'm closing the doors on this project, taking my suitcase full of cash, and heading out for a trip around the world. I’ll start with a private jet to Italy.

In a packed theater at the Getty Museum, he was giving a talk about art: the one and only David Hockney who, tonight, was wearing his trademark circular glasses in bright yellow. He said he was currently working on a series of portraits and introduced his latest interest in altering perspectives. More specifically, he showed a piece called Perspective Should be Reversed. What a coincidence. That's what I'm doing.

He also mentioned that he is going very deaf and doesn't like to go out with others because he is expected to listen. That said, after finishing his presentation he stepped off the stage and into the audience. This caused optimistic people to congregate, hoping for a chance to talk to him. It seemed like he was setting himself up for quite a bit of potential listening, but I decided he must have this figured out so I patiently waited my turn then I pitched my idea.

I described the project and had my fingers crossed that he'd see the similarity to his latest concept, but no. Blank stare.

He didn't seem to understand what I was saying, and maybe he really couldn't hear me, so I pointed at the shutter button, did a little pantomime of what I wanted, and handed him the camera. He quickly went through the motions I'd just described and handed my camera back.

It all happened too fast. Not in a boy-time-flies kind of way, but more like a my-camera-doesn't-operate-that-quickly kind of way.

Nonetheless, I thanked him and returned to my friend who was raving about what a fantastic entry this is, "Because he's a portrait artist and he just took your portrait!” she said. I had to interrupt to tell her the photo didn’t take. Deflated, we headed for the exit door.

We'd only gone a few steps from our seats when we saw that Mr. Hockney had left the crowd and was now coming our way. It was fate! Spurred by my friend's encouragement, I headed over to meet him. He looked at me with an expression that said I've already talked to you. True, but still I asked, "Could you please take another photo? The last one didn't work." It was a bold move on my part but I didn't have anything to lose.

He said, "The flash ruined it. Take off the flash." Ah-ha! He can hear me and he gave art direction. I turned off the flash and handed him the camera. Now we’re in business.

Again, he raced through the process, and here’s what I got. It's not the most interesting photo at first glance, but this, my friends, is a one-of-a-kind, original work by David Hockney—master of modern art.

And that’s all it takes for this photo to one day grace the pages of textbooks worldwide. I can imagine future art historians discussing the significance of his use of color and proportion. A celery-green wash appears over a raspberry subject in the lower center of a seemingly simple composition, they’ll say. Did the artist intentionally pull the dominant colors from the emergency lights seen on the far wall?

The green hue is a nice touch, I would add. By removing the flash, Mr. Hockney created a jarring display of color, visually expressing his agitated mood at that precise moment. It was clear that he was annoyed, but I got the impression he was bothered by my mere existence and I was starting to take it personally. Then I remembered he's British. They're just like that.

This modest photo may encourage eager art students to follow their dreams. Look how easy it was for David Hockney, they’ll muse as the class scrutinizes this shot. Notice the similar color and shape of the subject’s raspberry shirt and the man’s blushing neck to the right of the frame, their instructor will say. A solemn grey band is cradled above her shirt and we see this arc repeated in the man’s grey hairline. Further, the color of the man's bare scalp is identical to that of the subject’s nude cleavage. Now consider her sleeves and his ears—are these accents yet another very similar chance happening?

In deliberation, these busy art over-analyzers will wonder, What is Hockney saying with this repeated pattern? Surely, they’ll postulate, if he so desired, this modern master would have stepped to one side to avoid such distracting coincidences. Then, flaunting her dedication to the craft, the teacher’s pet will overlay a Fibonacci spiral to show the others how well Hockney's composition measures up.

So, while this piece challenges its viewers to reconsider their definition of high art, being that this is an original Hockney, its controversial popularity could spawn a bidding war at auction and fund my next creative endeavor somewhere across the globe. Frankly, the possibilities are endless. That’s why I call this piece My Retirement Fund (©2015).

I smell jet fuel and the subtle cologne of a private pilot in my future. Arrivederci, America!