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.

We were then asked if we had any questions – silence of course, apart from muggins who piped up: “Please, Mr Hockney, could you explain why several of your paintings have 69s on them.” His answer, with a kindly twinkle: “Work it out for yourself, young lady.” An encounter I have never forgotten.
Harriet Gibson
Wezembeek-Oppem, Belgium

David Hockney’s obituary rightly identified the artistic influence on Hockney as he saw the blue glint of swimming pools below on flying into California for the first time. Your late, great columnist Clive James was equally impressed by the same aerial view, once memorably describing it in the BBC programme Postcard from LA as looking “like heaven with a higher standard of living”.
Andrew Keeley
Warrington, Cheshire

We went to the Lightroom exhibition of David Hockney in 2022. When a guide took us into the room, he told us that whenever Hockney visited the exhibition, the fire alarms went off. Longtime readers of the Guardian letters page will be able to work out why!
Christine Hayes
Wokingham, Berkshire