Prodigy Jack Davey on shit, photocopies, and the consciousness of objects

From the depths of the subconscious to the memory of objects, artist Jack Davey's multidisciplinary practice explores the complexities of human experience, layer by layer.

Encompassing sculpture, collage, and photography, Davey's work thrives on a system of recurrence and exhaustive manipulation of materials. Having spent a decade living, studying, and working in Antwerp, Belgium, Davey has been a driving force in the city's contemporary art scene. In 2019, he returned to the UK, establishing a studio in rural Somerset to fully immerse himself in his artistic practice before making his way back to London in 2021. Recent exhibitions showcase Davey's evolving body of work, including 'Dirty Room' (2022) at a residency in Vairano, Switzerland, a solo show titled 'In Bulge' (2022 - 2023) at CASSTL gallery in Antwerp, and his current exhibition, 'Licker' (2024), at Elliott Hundley Studio in Los Angeles. In this interview, we delve into Davey's creative journey, the significance of material We spoke with Davey about his evolving practice, the importance of material manipulation, and the recurring themes that shape his work.

Interview Nele Jackson, Photography Jack Davey

Could you describe your trajectory as an artist up until now? What was your experience in Antwerp and how has it been to move back to England?

When I was 18, I moved to Antwerp to study fashion. I ended up completing my BA and MA in fashion there, and a BA & MA in sculpture later. During this 10-year period of studying, I became deeply embedded in the local art scene. Antwerp is a small city, making it easy to navigate and organize independent shows. I was doing all my early shows completely self-initiated, organizing group shows and solo exhibitions because space was readily available and the cost of living was quite low. I could live minimally and didn't have to work much to support myself.

When I moved back to the UK during the pandemic, I found a studio in Somerset in rural England. This was the first time I had a dedicated period to focus intensely on my art without distractions. Over the two and a half years I lived there, I created a massive body of work that became the catalyst and starting point for many subsequent works. It had a snowball effect, and once I started presenting that work, people took notice.

One of the key exhibitions was a self-initiated show in London called "Pigs" in 2021. It was the first time I delved into the concept of how a word can be translated into form. I made a massive body of work in Somerset. However, I had to destroy it all when I left the studio due to space constraints.

Interestingly, the act of destroying the work ended up fueling a lot of subsequent pieces.

Visual documentation and photography play a huge part in my work, particularly in my recent show in L.A. The visual language is informed by works that have been lost or destroyed. All the documentation of my early work still exists in the form of photography and black and white photocopies, unconsciously becoming a part of my practice.

Do you take these photos yourself?

Yes, my work is very self-driven, hands-on, and self-initiated. I don't have the resources to work with other people, and I prefer to keep the process under my control.

I like to work with tangible materials that I can manipulate myself.

There's something about the black and white photocopy that I've taken myself that makes the work deeply personal. Having this strong personal connection is an important part of the work conceptually.

At a recent residency in Vairano, Switzerland, you ended up making an installation entirely out of paper. Could you speak on your approach to materials?

The residency in Vairano, was a beautiful experience. It was a month-long research period, and I didn't have a specific plan going in, but I was intent on making some kind of sculptural intervention.

I ended up ordering a lot of high-quality parcel paper and spent the month playing with and manipulating it. This resulted in two full-sized installations: one in the bedroom I was sleeping in and the other in the adjacent bathroom.

I covered every inch of these spaces with paper, accompanied by drawings and collages. It became a fully immersive experience that took the entire month to complete. The only evidence of the intervention is through the photographs and documentation I took.

The residency was massively significant because it was a freeing experience. After the residency, the entire installation was destroyed and recycled. The experience gave me a completely different sense of space and documentation. All the images from the installation have now provided material for new work.

Before Switzerland I had always made really permanent, solid objects. It was nice to be able to create an impermanent experience that didn't have that sense of urgency around them.

How did that experience inform how you approached your recent solo exhibition In Bulge?

The exhibition that followed, titled 'In Bulge,' featured permanent artworks. But the show was the result of all the visual research done over the last few years, particularly during the residency. All these shapes really came into their own, and the inclusion of paper was particularly significant, as the majority of the work, even though you can't see it, is made out of the same kind of paper I used during the residency in Switzerland.

Other materials include reclaimed wood and textiles – all materials I'm able to build with and manipulate myself. There's a process of layering, where the works are built in steps, one after another.

The residency experience also fueled a lot of ideas and visual material that I incorporated into the show. I was really interested in the consciousness of objects and how to transmit those memories onto a solid form. Photography played a part in that. The backsides of all the works are heavily decorated with paint and text, almost like a private dialogue between me and the work.

On the front side, I worked with a form that I've been developing for a long time [a bulging, sausage-like shape]. I'm interested in representing the human body without any literal or obvious figuration, and this paired, tube-like, rounded form has become my interpretation of that. It's sensual and bodily, but non-specific. There’s a pairing element in this work that emphasizes that as well. The fact that the works always come in twos is important for me because it's about a dialogue. There's something kind of sexual about it, but it's not explicit.

You mentioned that the theme of pairing runs through the work – where does that stem from?

The pairing theme has been present in my old sketchbooks for years. Having had a classical sculptor training with a strong emphasis on the body and its representation, I find myself interested in the cerebral aspects of what makes a person human – the emotional qualities.

I didn't want my work to be totally abstract, so I tried to represent the body in a way that was pared down but still present.

The pairing is crucial because it makes the form more bodily. There's a sensuality there that I believe is intrinsically human.

This pairing has become a recurring theme across my work, sometimes even unconsciously. At my current show in LA, it was brought to my attention that all the works existed in pairs. I think this was an unconscious decision, stemming from my interest in transmitting consciousness and the importance of dialogue.

In previous interviews, you talked about your fascination with archaeological objects, which is evident from your interest in the capacity of objects to absorb memory. You also talked about an “obsession with shit” and the digestive system. In Bulge features a lot of sausage-shaped objects and surfaces. Is there a connection here?

During my time in Somerset, I had a fascination with shit. In my mind, it reveals so much about our inner life, yet it's something people are reluctant to discuss. There was a slightly provocative aspect to it that I enjoyed.

I found two things really interesting: the idea of a singular monolithic form loaded with memory and historical context, yet open to interpretation, and the concept of shit as a revelation of our subconscious.

I don't think about this particular obsession as much now, but people who have followed my work still talk about it, and it remains prevalent for them. In my latest show, the colors and sausage-shaped objects definitely connect to this theme.

I'm certainly not afraid of exploring this concept. It was a significant part of informing my work during a deep, two-and-a-half-year research phase, and it somehow became a crucial element in my artistic process.

You seem to work very much for yourself and within yourself, but are there any other artists that have inspired you?

I think my work feeds itself, but I'm constantly looking outwards as well. Growing up, Louise Bourgeois was a massive inspiration. Her retrospective show at the Tate Modern in 2007 was life-changing. I was really young, and to see a show that could have that much body, be so emotive, and demonstrate such a fierce dedication to her practice was incredibly impressive. I saw the show every weekend while it was on because I was so inspired by it.

Generally, I'm interested in work that transcends the time or place in which it was made.

As a sculptor, I'm really interested in how you can load an object with energy, place it, and have it contain all these memories while also being chronologically non-specific.

I'm also drawn to artists working with personal or cerebral topics. In LA, I recently saw a show from Dorothy Hood, who I wasn't familiar with until then. Her drawings were beautiful, strange, and dealt with the deepest parts of our psyche. What I found most moving was the fact that they were made between 1940 and 1980, yet there was no visual giveaway that they were from that particular time. Yayoi Kusama’s early net paintings have a similar effect for me.

There's something about that obsessive, repetitive technique that fascinates me. It exists in my work as well. Even though I'm using readily available materials, there's nothing quick or immediate about the work.

It's a very time-consuming process of repeated layering and reworking.

On the other hand, you've got someone like Sarah Lucas, who's always been a huge inspiration. Particularly the early pieces, which play with ideas of anger and injustice, are somehow presented in a way that makes the viewer look like the bad person. She’s subverting perception in a very intelligent, humorous way. I like that a lot.

You mentioned you are interested in works that have a timeless quality. What would you say are characteristics of art works that achieve the opposite of that?

I'm always turned off by work that is made for its visual appeal because it relates to the current aesthetics of the art world. I really struggle with anything to do with trends, but I'm also curious about it. How will that work be received 20 years from now? Will it be an incredible snapshot of what was going on at the time, or will it look incredibly dated?

Whenever I see work that feels like a direct response to the constant flow of visual imagery circulating at the moment, my instinct is to step back from it. In my mind, these works somehow feel reductive or didactic.

It’s very personal though, as I have such a strong reaction to work that I don't like. But when I dig deeper, it's always work that is made in a very reactive way. For instance, I try not to talk about current social-political issues in my work. And whenever I see it attempted, I have a slight skepticism. I feel that in order to talk about those things in a meaningful way, one needs to be really, really informed.

Recently, I took part in a show that promoted queer artists, and I found that I really struggled with it in that context. I'm gay, but I didn't feel like an authority on the subject, and I didn't feel that using my work to talk about what are quite serious social issues was appropriate. I don't quite have a vocabulary for how I feel about it yet.

Connecting back to your fascination with shit, it sounds like you’re a very digestive person in this regard as well – preferring to work through information over longer periods of time rather than blurting out an opinion.

That's a very good point. It can be a struggle, especially with so many troubling things going on in the world right now. But I have very private politics. And I think it's one thing to present ideas and conversations around subjects, open a dialogue, rather than impose an opinion on others. Whenever I begin to form an opinion, my first instinct is to think,

"Who am I to have this opinion if I’m not adequately informed about a particular context, history, or culture?"

So I'm not going to try and dictate any of my opinions to other people, and I certainly don't want to use my work for that either.

Having a scheduled studio practice is clearly very important to you. Could you walk us through what a typical day in your studio looks like?

Having a dedicated working practice is incredibly important to me. I recently moved into a new studio down the road, which is a luxury in London, and I'm there as often as I can be. Although I have a small space, there are three key elements that form the foundation of my practice. Drawing is one of those elements. I'm very skilled at it, and I find it to be an efficient way of translating ideas from my head into a tangible render. It allows me to play with texture and form in a very immediate way, as opposed to sculpting.

Alongside drawing, I collect photocopies. As I mentioned earlier, I have documentation of residency shows, works that have been destroyed, lost, or that I wasn't sure about. I even have a lot of self-portraits there. I've been collecting these photocopies for years, and all visual material gets incorporated into my work.

Running parallel to the photocopies, I have what I call "texture libraries."

These are large books where I document every material action or application I make. Each process is documented chronologically in these books, making them physical, independent objects. The books are recognized by their start and end dates. The first one began in 2018 and was completed in 2021, while the one I'm currently working on started in 2022 and is yet unfinished.

These three elements—the texture libraries, the visual information from the photocopies, and the drawings—form the basis of my daily practice. I reference these elements against inspiration that comes from artists I admire or music I listen to, and they all feed each other until new forms emerge.

When I'm in the process of preparing for a show, I start experimenting with larger 3D forms.

I'm interested in the continued evolution and saturation of imagery within my work, how images from one show get incorporated into the next, and so on.

There's a constant formal and visual dialogue happening in the work. That's what I do in my studio, in a nutshell.

What's next for you? Are there any current or upcoming projects you're excited about?

My current show 'Licker' at Elliott Hundley Studio in LA was quite significant. Elliott is an LA-based artist represented by Regen Projects. He invited the curator, Shirley Morales, who in turn invited me. We've been in conversation about this show for over a year, but then it all came together very quickly.

Since I'm not represented, I wasn't able to transport work, so I made everything in LA, working in the studio where I presented it. It was a really exciting and good moment to combine the visual material through photographs with the formal qualities of the work. The show felt very fully realized. It happened during Frieze Week, so there were a lot of people around, making it a good moment to have the exhibition.

At the moment, I’m back in the studio drawing and researching. The LA show was a big one, so I'm taking a bit of a breather. However, I'd love to do a group show in London and another solo show in the future.

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