David Hockney, the Yorkshire-born painter who long ago swapped the grey skies of Britain for the Californian sun, is being lauded by the British art establishment for depicting what one critic called a ‘peaceful, gay paradise’ at a time when homosexuality was still a criminal offence in the United Kingdom. The praise comes as a new exhibition examines the early works of the now 87-year-old artist, highlighting the courage required to paint such idyllic, homoerotic scenes when the mere act of sodomy could land a man in prison.
Let us be clear about the historical context. Until the Sexual Offences Act 1967, homosexual acts between men were illegal in England and Wales. Scotland and Northern Ireland waited even longer. To produce art that openly celebrated gay desire in the 1960s was not merely rebellious. It was a calculated financial and personal risk. Hockney, then a young man in his twenties, was swimming against a powerful tide of legal repression and social stigma.
But what does the market say about this courage? The art market, that great adjudicator of cultural value, has long since priced in Hockney’s defiance. His works now command tens of millions of pounds. A painting like ‘A Bigger Splash’ (1967) is not just a serene image of a swimming pool. It is a symbol of liberation from the legal constraints of the old country. The market has rewarded Hockney for his willingness to bet on a future where his sexuality would no longer be a crime. His prices have appreciated faster than most gilt-edged bonds, proving that cultural capital can indeed translate into hard currency.
The British art world, ever eager to claim a piece of the moral high ground, is now falling over itself to commemorate Hockney’s bravery. But let us not be too quick to pat ourselves on the back. The establishment that now hails Hockney was, in large part, the same establishment that turned a blind eye to the persecution of gay men for decades. The institutions that now host his exhibitions were silent when the Wolfenden Report recommended decriminalisation in 1957. It took another ten years for Parliament to act. And even then, the age of consent was set at 21, a discriminatory compromise that remained in place until 1994.
What is more interesting, perhaps, is the economic angle. Hockney’s move to California in the early 1960s was not just a flight from legal persecution. It was also a flight to a more liquid market for his art. Los Angeles offered not only sunshine and swimming pools but also a wealthy, liberal clientele willing to buy paintings that celebrated a lifestyle still illegal back home. This was capital flight of a cultural sort, and it paid off handsomely.
The current exhibition, which includes early sketches and paintings from Hockney’s time at the Royal College of Art, reveals the artist’s deliberate use of coded imagery. At first glance, the bright colours and seemingly innocent domestic scenes appear apolitical. But a closer look reveals the subtle hand of a man navigating a hostile legal environment. His ‘Love Paintings’ from 1961, for instance, feature what appear to be abstract forms but are actually explicit representations of male genitalia. It was art as a form of encrypted communication, a way of saying what the law forbade.
Now, in 2024, the British art world can afford to be magnanimous. Hockney is a national treasure, his works held in the collections of major museums. The Tate alone has more than 20 of his pieces. The narrative of the brave gay artist triumphing over prejudice is a comfortable one, as it reassures us that society has progressed. But we must ask: has the market fully discounted the risk that Hockney took? Probably not. In today’s terms, the value of his early works would be far lower if he had been caught and prosecuted. The premium for his courage is now baked into the prices, but it was a high-stakes gamble at the time.
In conclusion, the art world’s recognition of David Hockney’s courage is well deserved. But it also serves as a reminder that the market does not always reward virtue in real time. It took decades for the public to catch up with Hockney’s vision. His ‘peaceful, gay paradise’ was a bet on the future, and he won. The investments he made in his own freedom and artistic expression have yielded extraordinary returns, both financially and culturally. The British establishment, ever the latecomer to the party, is now raising a glass to him. It might do well to remember that the cost of that courage was borne by Hockney alone, at a time when the market, and the law, were firmly against him.
