David Hockney O.M. C.H. R.A. (British, b.1937)
In the Dull Village [MC Tokyo 54]

1966
signed, dated and numbered 48/75 in pencil
etching and aquatint on Crisbrook handmade wove
from Illustrations for Fourteen Poems from C. P. Cavafy
printed and published by Editions Alecto, London
framed
ARR

Dimensions: plate 34.7 x 23cm

Editions Alecto, where purchased by present owner

Reference: see Tate Britain, London, accession number P77570 and Museum of Modern Art, New York, accession number 45.1967.8 for other examples of this edition
Literature: MC Tokyo 54

Hockney’s Illustrations for Fourteen Poems from C.P. Cavafy comprises fourteen etchings, each paired with a poem by the Greek poet Constantine P. Cavafy (1863–1933). Each image captures the tone, atmosphere, and characters of its corresponding poem. Widely regarded as the most distinguished Greek poet of the 20th century, Cavafy explored numerous themes in his work, though he is best known for his homoerotic poetry- much of which is believed to be autobiographical. His verses evoke tender, sensual encounters between men, a subject that resonated deeply with Hockney’s own experience as a young gay artist.

When Hockney created this portfolio in 1966, homosexuality was still illegal in the UK. Reflecting on that time, he remarked: “I was aware that it was illegal, but I didn’t really think much about that at the time. I was living in a bohemian world, where we just did what we pleased. I wasn’t speaking for anybody else. I was defending my way of living.” This body of work stands as one of his earliest and most candid expressions of queer identity.

The series was partly inspired by a trip to Beirut, which Hockney saw as a contemporary to Cavafy’s Alexandria. This image however draws upon his own circle and experiences in 1960s London and was based on two of Hockney’s friends in his Notting Hill flat. Two men lie together in bed, naked from the waist up and loosely covered by a sheet; the figure on the left appears to sleep while his lover gazes softly toward him. The scene is quiet and unguarded. The figures do not acknowledge the viewer or the artist, heightening the sense of intimacy and privacy. Rendered in Hockney’s characteristically fine line, the image conveys tenderness without sentimentality. In doing so, it grants a quiet dignity to a subject that, in 1960s Britain, remained both private and profoundly political.