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From: art reviews Category: Art Date: 08 October 2006 Time: 05:21 AM Review: Roll up, roll up all you old folks in wooly jumpers and tweed skirts, wake up and smell the mothballs, come all ye faithful in old fashioned skill and scenes you can recognize of trees and nice paintings like you'd like on calendars. Hockney hides his light under a rather reactionary bushel. He can do it, make marks and colours and pleasingly rendered signs, and is certainly very good at something which is similar to really good painting. Yet the old fart, hero of the suburban art lover, seem loath not to show off, has given up, never tried except for as a student in radical times, to push past the boundaries of the merely meretricious, or painterly painterness, or clever fiddling with appearances and surface. He could never face real failure, so fails. Just follow the trails of homaging gray rinses and pilgriming pale conservative art students, to see how.