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Clear Water, Unsaid Things: Hockney at the Edge of the Pool

This week, I chose a painting that’s been on my mind—partly because of the big retrospective currently showing in Paris (Hockney 25), partly because I love summer, pools, and figuring out how people do (or don’t) connect.

Author

Inbal Zakai
May 11, 2025

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The figure in pink (marked red)

He’s standing still at the edge of the pool, fully dressed, staring down. He looks composed, even elegant—but also oddly out of place. It’s the body language of someone holding back. This isn’t intimacy. It’s observation.

The swimmer (marked blue)

Underwater, mid-stroke, the swimmer’s body is blurred by light and movement. We don’t see his face clearly. He’s active, unreachable, completely absorbed in something the other figure can’t touch. They share the space—but not the moment.

The water between them (marked green)

The pool is calm, blue, inviting. But it’s also a barrier. It cuts across the painting, clean and quiet. Nothing violent happens—but something is broken. They’re close, and completely apart.

Fun Fact

Hockney didn’t witness this moment—he built it.

The painting is made from two separate photographs: one of a man swimming, another of someone standing and looking down. Hockney combined them weeks after a painful breakup with Peter Schlesinger—the man in the pink jacket.

He painted like a person trying to hold on to something that’s already gone. Over and over, he reworked the scene: adjusting the distance, the posture, the light. Not to change the story—just to understand it. It’s not a portrait of what happened. It’s a portrait of how it felt.

The painting sold in 2018 for $90.3 million, breaking records for a living artist. But its value isn’t in the price. It’s in the silence.

Think About It 🤔 

No one captures emotional distance quite like David Hockney.

His paintings are bright, balanced, and easy to look at—but something always feels off. The pool is clear. The light is perfect. And yet, the two figures don’t speak. One dives. The other watches. No eye contact. No tension. Just... space.

That’s Hockney’s gift: he paints quiet scenes that hold loud silences.
His work doesn’t scream. It lingers. It asks: how close can two people be, and still miss each other completely?

How does it relate to the here and now? or What to say during casual conversation to show off your art knowledge?

Still Water – “This painting made me think about how we can feel emotionally distant, even when we're physically close. It’s the kind of quiet disconnect we all recognize—like being in the same room, but on different wavelengths. Hockney got there before smartphones did.”

Now have another Look!

And If You’re Up for More…

  1. If you're anywhere near Paris, don’t miss Hockney 25, the major retrospective at the Fondation Louis Vuitton. It spans decades of his work—including this one—and traces how he’s kept rethinking what it means to look, to feel, to see.

Some paintings whisper. This one stays quiet until you lean in—and realize what hasn’t been said. I’d love to hear what this painting makes you feel.
Reply to this email or leave a comment—I’m always listening.

Yours,
Inbal Z M

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