That's the Way I See It.

David Hockney may well be one of today's most important painters, but his refusal to bend to or even take notice of the vicissitudes of current theory and critique, along with his unremitting popularity with the general public, have combined to ensure that "serious" downtown types greet his name with a snort of derision. Somewhere along the way, the notion that his work was unserious must have begun to stick; perhaps people simply couldn't stand all the unbridled cheeriness in his bountiful still lifes and pictures flaunting pools, healthy friends, and the rolling Malibu hills. But if you're one of those who gave up on Hockney years ago because he seemed too much like the artist your parents wished you had become, this book might be the least painful way to reintroduce yourself to one of the 20th century's most satisfying yet ultimately most elusive artists.

Although Hockney doesn't claim to be an art revolutionary, he has a restless side that gives itself over naturally to technical experimentation. Hence the motive for this book, which might be seen as a guide to the artist's projects in disciplines outside painting. It examines the ways in which these excursions have influenced his ideas about perception, and in turn have affected his studio work. While Hockney's photoworks and opera designs, reproduced here, have been more copiously documented elsewhere, they are now presented alongside his more recent works, which use computers with laser-print and fax technologies.

Along with more than 350 reproductions, That's the Way I See It carries a personal narrative that sweeps through some 18 years of work and living in a prose style that is direct, engaging, and unpretentiously intelligent. As the first major artist to have consistently produced credible work in computer media, Hockney knows his territory inside out, making it all the more disconcerting to come across his surprising prediction that higher technology is bringing back the kind of intimacy we lack when we are separated from the world by the visual perspective that the camera has imposed. That he skips the negative implications of the postmedia world suggests a fundamental optimism that accounts for, on some level, his charm as an artist. Hockney convinces us, for one oblivious moment, that just looking at something can be the most profound experience of all.

Dan Cameron is a curator and critic living in New York.