David Piddock

About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters: how well they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along
– Musée des Beaux Arts by  W. H. Auden

David Piddock walks his viewer through many miles of London’s buildings, unfolding a map of rich architectural variety, both high and low rise. Flying, falling and dancing through this man-made geometry, painted with exquisite precision, is his cast of mythical characters:
Cupid and Psyche, Venus, Apollo and Daphne. As if escaped from Old Master paintings, they bring high drama to the urban order.

Wandering around London, Piddock sources constructed panoramas for his paintings, from recognisable towers and DLR stations to lesser-known corners of the city. Within these scenes, defined by sharp perspective, strong shadows and diagonals, he positions quiet people who read the paper or stare at their phone, impassive and oblivious to the great mythical action unfolding around them.

Seated on a bench, a couple relax in the sun’s rays, angled away from a circle of four figures who perform nearby, their intensely-coloured garments fluttering in ‘Dance to the Music of Time ‐ Embankment’. Its title, like the rhythmic scene of whirling characters, has been lifted from Nicolas Poussin’s composition at The Wallace Collection. As Piddock explains, he has “raided paintings and sculpture from London’s world-class museums” for this series in which he retells classical stories through a contemporary lens.

Among the most famous tales in Piddock’s frame is that of Icarus who, ignoring the advice of his father, flew too close to the sun, resulting in his tragic death. In ‘The Fall of Icarus ‐ Power Station’ the protagonist’s feathered wings fail as he crashes through the city’s towering buildings, the saturated reds of his drapery repeated in the tall, distant cranes,
firmly positioning him in the present-day sphere.

His story continues as the sun sets in ‘Death of Icarus ‐ Barrier Park’, where his fallen body lies on the ground in sculpted marble forms, immortalised through art. Passing by, symbolically, is a father, young son on his shoulders; both appear unaware of the allegorical tale outstretched before them, warning against youthful risks, hubris and human ambition.

Likewise, the ancient story of Phaeton, who can’t control his father’s sun chariot and crashes to his early death, is revisited by Piddock in one theatrical panel. ‘The Fall of Phaeton ‐ Power Station’ features towering buildings, the symbolic and multidimensional backdrop framing the drama of a hero reaching too far, inviting reflection about modern day parallels.

Another tale at the heart of this series is the biblical Adoration of the Golden Calf, which cautions against the worship of false idols. In Piddock’s modern yet magisterial version, a tube train hurtles past an action-packed scene of revelry, as barefoot figures dance around a
life-size calf statue; positioned in the heart of Canary wharf, it stands as an ominous portent of wealth’s powerful draw.

Crafting an illusion of reality, Piddock twists classical myths in contemporary settings, transporting divine characters to mortal spheres. Although unnoticed by the incidental figures in his frame, these compelling narratives absorb the viewer’s full imagination. Like the great masters he riffs on, Piddock suspends time, painting moments of revelation and reframing tales that still resonate today.

Written by Ruth Millington