Written by Christopher Moorby. Chris is the founder of Commission Studio, a marketing agency in London that works with the likes of Lacoste and Zegna.
David Hockney was always my hero. I first saw his work at Salts Mill in Bradford when I was 13.
Amidst the strong scent of lilies was a body of work ranging from the well-recognized and expertly drawn, to the abstract and vividly painted, and on to boundary-pushing montages. Here is an artist who seemed to be able to do everything, who invaded the entire arena with creative enthusiasm and excitement.
What I loved most about Hockney’s work was that once you saw his incredible skill as an artist, you knew that whatever you saw was exactly how he wanted you to see it.
If the drawing was done as a child it was because he wanted to pass it on to you. His work was the perfect window into his imagination because he could see his imagination physically. He was not caught by the skill.
Having a work experience at Salts Mill and my introduction to pop art during that time really helped build my graphic eye and helped set the course for an interest in graphic design.
In later years as my interest in clothes and clothing grew, I was inspired by another example of Hockney’s creative eye: his wardrobe.
On his person Hockney wore clothes that perfectly matched his art. In the beginning, his collection of clothes was a full version of everyday colors and patterns. Pinstripe, but super pinstripe. Stuffed polka dots. Jumbo window panes. Blue and pink candy.
Classic options, but their exaggerated version. In the 60s and 70s this method was very lucrative.
To me, her dress sense was at its best in the 80s. He took a step. Long gone are the days of the 70s, when to prove your sartorial genius and taste was to wear everything at once. No more need for a peacock in the 80s.
The glasses were still expressive and iconic, but more refined than the chunky rims that covered her face in the sixties and seventies, when she developed her voice and identity.
Classic British sartorial eccentricity is on display in my favorite photo of her leading this article: red socks and patterned slippers get the party started, while the horizontal and vertical lines at the top risk looking fake.A pastel blue cardigan might be one color too many, but Hockney’s relaxed confidence puts it all at ease. A garment that felt ‘thrown’ by someone with a good sense of color and pattern.
His later years went on and the harsh frames were removed, but my memory of them put them on his face no matter what. The power of such a symbolic appearance.As an old man with nothing left to prove there was no need to try hard.
Echoes of sartorial flair were present in the carnation buttonholes and patterned braces, but there was no time to worry too much about dress when there was so much drawing to be done, and new techniques to adopt before his age caught up with him. Painting in fine suits rarely looked comfortable.
There was also something quintessentially British about his style. We see traces of these things in people like King Charles, who has a certain panache for unexpected pattern combinations. Prince Michael of Kent has a similar eye and adds to it with his signature full knot windsor tie. We can also include the likes of Gilbert and George in this category.
An appreciation of British tailoring seems to be an important part of this, but the bold approach to it comes from characters who are confident in their taste and creative eye. Mistakes will be made, but that’s all part of developing your sarcasm.
I think there’s something wonderful about making things worse, but done in a laissez faire way. This was Hockney’s specialty: the pocket square sticking out of the breast pocket is a ridiculous amount, but it seems to have been stuffed without much thought.
I don’t know what we call this British carelessness, but it’s definitely different from the Italian ‘sprezzatura’. It is not studied at all – it is a form of fascination without care. I recommend it to anyone who can release this spirit. A rare quality, but it certainly shows someone who is comfortable in their lane.
The last reason I love Hockney’s wardrobe and dressing skills is that it always reflected him and where he was in his life.
He dressed according to his age and experience, without losing his chivalry. It was an outward expression of personality, from an artist who always wears his imagination on his sleeve.
He also used high quality clothes. He lived and painted in it. Sewing clothes should be worn hard in my opinion – nice, but not precious. This is something I really appreciate. Buy good; have a good time at it.
As I entered my mid-forties, I began to apply some of the lessons I learned from observing Hockney’s style over the years. I want clothes to reflect my age and how I feel, but I want to dress with the confidence of knowing more about myself and my tastes and – again – not too precious.
Maybe that means doing things a little less, but it makes dressing up so much more fun; it certainly always looked like David was happy.
British artist and designer David Hockney has died recently, aged 88. RIP.