Hockney (July)

 David Hockney’s ‘Tullamarine Terminal’ proves he did little else during his July stopover than take polaroids. Waiting for a plane, he plays with planes: it’s one of his bigger joiners. Snaps of kingsize duty-free alcohol segue into wheelie luggage, both feet on the ground. Cubism goes rampant with corridor marble. Gate signs multiply to five dimensions, as if we go through time barriers. Barriers themselves are thicket mazes of Border Force, one photograph turning the word by trick angle to Farce. Time stands still when we notice in a glossy wee frame far corner, the luminous nose of an airbus.