Sweetness.

With a friend, I went to the Hockney exhibition at the De Young for my fifth visit, and his first (and only, probably). It was refreshing to be with someone unmoved by the art ("candy," he called it; "sweetness"), and unimpressed by The Great Man, of whom he had not heard previously. I admired his independent spirit, his refusal to be swept along by popular enthusiasm for Hockney. I've never been in such a large crowd at the gallery. The museum was busier than an airport before a holiday.