In 1963, I was a naive 17-year-old on a week’s introduction to “art” at the Royal Court theatre with a group of about 10 sixth formers. We had an acting workshop with John Dexter, went to a wrestling match and were taken to visit an up-and-coming artist in his studio in Notting Hill.
I remember a smallish room with paintings lining the walls. David Hockney (Obituary, 12 June) talked about his work, said he was about to leave for the States and showed us a work on the wall called My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean, which he explained was dedicated to his boyfriend who was in the States.
