At the age of 29, David Hockney visited the home of Betty Freeman to capture images of her swimming pool. In preparation for his iconic pool paintings, he photographed his partner, Peter Schlesinger, as he emerged from the water in the nude. However, Hockney found himself intrigued by Freeman, who, while dusting her hunting trophies, hosted a striking young man on her patio. Curious about her, Hockney requested to take her photograph, to which she consented.
The resulting artwork, titled *Beverly Hills Housewife* (1966/7), features a stunning woman poised outside an elegant residence. Bathed in sunlight, her blond bob remains perfectly in place, complemented by a vibrant pink dress and a lush fern nearby. The scene is adorned with emblems of mid-century American wealth, including a chair by Le Corbusier and a tasteful modernist sculpture. Hockney’s work has become synonymous with this era, evoking imagery of shimmering waters and radiant light, characterized by bold colors and an air of serene contentment.
In a well-crafted blend of personal narrative and art analysis, James Cahill utilizes Hockney’s painting as a foundational element to portray the working-class Yorkshireman who became enamored with Los Angeles, alongside the affluent art collector who became his supporter and friend, and the city that profoundly influenced contemporary culture. After introducing these key figures, Cahill delves into the “lifestyle-magazine portrayal of bourgeois affluence” depicted in *Beverly Hills Housewife*.
In this exploration, Cahill offers insights into art interpretation, highlighting specific details that enhance understanding. For instance, Freeman’s expression is juxtaposed with the mounted head of an antelope, a trophy from her husband. This framing recontextualizes her demeanor from one of simple vacancy to a more poignant melancholy, suggesting a layered critique of her situation. The title, chosen by Freeman herself, hints at a certain ironic self-awareness. Hockney, known for his narrative style, invites viewers to engage with such interpretations.
However, a portrait often reveals as much about the artist as it does about the subject. Cahill shifts focus to what this painting communicates regarding Hockney’s own perspectives and connections. He notably points out how Hockney borrows compositional elements from the Annunciation, placing Freeman in the role of the Virgin Mary. This connection allows Cahill to discuss Hockney’s admiration for early Renaissance artists and to speculate on the relationship dynamics between the young, openly gay man and the glamorous older woman he depicts as a Madonna figure—simultaneously a victim and a maternal icon. Such observations, once highlighted, transform the viewer’s perception of the artwork significantly.
Yet, the book encounters limitations due to the finite depth of analysis available. Hockney’s art primarily encapsulates enclosed environments, often excluding the broader realities of life in Los Angeles—such as the Watts riots, pollution, and the Vietnam War. This absence does not detract from his artistic merit, similar to how Vermeer’s works are appreciated. Cahill rightly argues that “meaning might reside in so-called veneers” just as much as in the underlying truths. However, it poses challenges for a detailed ekphrastic analysis that seeks to extract hidden meanings.
Recognizing Hockney’s focus on the “concealments of portraiture” rather than unearthing hidden truths, Cahill aligns with this approach. Instead of delving beneath the painting’s glossy exterior, he explores anecdotal narratives surrounding influential American music—of which Freeman was a notable advocate—and the mythologized Los Angeles art scene, contrasting Hockney’s brightness with Edward Kienholz’s darker themes. The narrative includes both celebrated figures, like the hobo composer Harry Partch, and controversial ones, such as the egotistical painter Clyfford Still, whose vanity serves as an entertaining counterpoint to the high standards of abstract expressionism.
Although some connections may seem tenuous, Cahill’s skillful prose and light touch keep the reader engaged. Consequently, this multifaceted portrait continues to be insightful and captivating, even as it moves beyond the painting’s original context. The book mirrors its primary source in its charm, intelligence, and elusiveness.
*The Beverly Hills Housewife: Hockney’s Californian Muse and the World Beyond the Pool* by James Cahill is published by Thames and Hudson. To support the Guardian, you can order your copy at guardianbookshop.com, though delivery fees may apply.
