First response to the Hockney. It is no good pretending that part of oneself does not tend to go to art exhibitions out of a sense of piety, of 'ought'. But Hockney is different. Hockney is a pleasure. It is impossible not to smile at the Tate. Here is an artist who, for all the personality in the pictures, for all the scenes of his life and friends, seems somehow without ego. Nothing is being angstfully expressed. Instead we have an explosion of seeing. The generosity is overwhelming. Even without colour, in the charcoal drawings, we are being invited in not to the artist's soul but into a way of looking and seeing. Shall be going again and again. Worth joining the Tate just for this.