The funeral of David Hockney took place this morning in Bridlington. No fanfare. No state occasion. Just family, close friends, and a single yellow daffodil on the coffin. That was his instruction. The man who painted a nation in swimming pools wanted his exit to be quiet.
It was not quiet for the rest of us. The news hit Westminster like a thunderclap. Tributes poured in from both sides of the House. Starmer released a statement calling him 'the defining British artist of our time'. Sunak's office was quick to follow. The usual choreography of grief. But this one felt different. Hockney was not just an artist. He was a cultural weather system.
I have been watching the backbench reaction. There is genuine upset. Hockney was a working-class lad from Bradford who made the establishment sit up and listen. He was a rebel who became an institution without losing his edge. That rare thing. Several Labour MPs told me they cried when they heard the news. One shadow minister admitted he had a Hockney print in his constituency office. 'It reminds me why I got into politics,' he said. 'To make a world worth painting.'
The low-key ceremony is classic Hockney. He hated fuss. He once told an interviewer that funerals were 'for the living, and the living should have a drink and remember the good times'. The service was held at a small church near his home. The vicar, I am told, kept it brief. Hockney's partner spoke for less than two minutes. A recording of 'The Lark Ascending' was played. Then it was over.
But the political fallout is just beginning. There is a growing mood in the gallery that Hockney should receive a posthumous state funeral. Or at least a memorial service at St Paul's. The Culture Secretary is facing calls to fast-track a national tribute. I have heard from a source at Number 10 that they are 'considering options'. But Hockney's estate has reportedly made clear he wanted none of that. 'He saw the fuss over Thatcher and said no thank you,' a family friend told me.
This is a test for the government. How do you honour a man who rejected honours? Hockney turned down a knighthood. Twice. He said it was 'silly'. He accepted the Order of Merit only because it was personal from the Queen. Now the country wants to say thank you. But how?
The art world is already planning its own tributes. The Tate is expected to announce a major retrospective within days. The National Gallery will dim its lights for an hour tonight. Galleries across the country will follow. This is a moment of collective mourning. But also of collective celebration.
I will be watching the polling. Hockney was a national treasure in a way that cuts across party lines. His approval ratings would make any politician weep. If the government handles this badly, it will cost them. Voters notice these things. They remember who showed up and who did not.
For now, the family has asked for privacy. The press are keeping a respectful distance. Even the tabloids have held back. That tells you something about the man. He commanded respect even in death.
David Hockney changed how we see the world. He gave us light and colour when we needed it most. He leaves behind a canvas half-painted. But what a painting it was.
I am off to pour a gin and tonic. And look at a picture of a swimming pool.