Hockney was peerless.
Almost in the mold of the renaissance masters, his life and art were somehow fused into one riotous celebration of freedom.
He was daring in a more conservative society, and then almost conservative in contemporary society.
I will never forget the works which defined his later life, nor the title of the book “Spring Cannot Be Cancelled” which was both a middle finger to Covid lockdowns and a spiritual demonstration of the faith that life will always be reborn.
It is remarkable that he is, so far as I can tell, the only person to have made a genuine and non-cynical contribution to visual art in a digital medium. Perhaps this is less a sign of his willingness to innovate than an indication that the joie de vivre which defined his art would flower in any medium.
It ought to be a source of enormous shame to us that he felt forced to live abroad to find the freedom to live and create, and yet I still feel proud of being British to think that we can call such a master one of our sons.