Pain is written into the very flesh of a man posing uncertainly in trunks, ready to jump in a lake, in her picture Jack Goes Swimming (Jack). A brown line that runs down his pink back, with stitch-like marks at right angles to it, may be just a crudely drawn spine, or it could be a deep vertical scar from an accident or major surgery. Surely a scar, for this character running awkwardly towards the blue summery water, with his green-hatted head hunched down, communicates intense pathos and suffering. The painting’s title and various scribbles on its surface allude to the Philip Seymour Hoffman film Jack Goes Boating. I have not seen it, but the sadness of Hoffman’s death reverberates with this lonely swimmer. The reason I believe it really is a scar on Jack’s back, not just a clumsy attempt to suggest his spine, is that as you spend time with Wylie’s paintings, little touches make it apparent that a five-year-old could not have done them. Tellingly, one of the most accomplished is also one of the earliest in the show. Tree Canterbury, painted in 1997, has a subtly shaded blue trunk and a deep green spatter of leaves. Suddenly it is clear where Wylie is coming from. The simplified but authentic eye for nature here is what got me making comparisons with Hockney. Wylie, however, has freed herself from the rules and traditions to which Hockney is fiercely loyal. She has escaped into the world of children’s art. Compared with this almost careful early work, she now paints with total freedom from any law of god, man or the Royal Academy.... [https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2017/nov/29/rose-wylie-review-quack-quack-serpentine-gallery-london]