Celia from 1973 feels like a quiet but powerful conversation between artist and sitter — a moment of genuine presence captured through Hockney’s keen visual sensibility. At the centre of this work is Celia Birtwell, long a close friend and muse, presented with an honest simplicity that draws you in without artifice.

There’s a gentle stillness in the way she sits, her gaze meeting ours with a mix of calm confidence and introspection. Hockney’s handling of line and colour here is thoughtful and expressive rather than precise or clinical. The shapes and tones seem to breathe with a softness that suggests memory and warmth.

What makes this portrait so engaging is its balance between directness and reflection. Celia isn’t idealised — she feels real, present, and quietly alive on the page. The colours, while rich, are grounded, giving the image a warmth that feels personal and intimate. The composition invites you to linger in the shared space between artist and subject, to sense not just what she looks like but a hint of who she is.

Celia captures a moment of stillness that feels timeless — a portrait of a friend, seen with affection and insight, rendered with a thoughtful simplicity that stays with you.