Tim Davis

Topics: Documentary Style, Light & Shadow, Reproductive Processes, Series & Sequence, Text, Vision

Tim Davis’s website

http://www.davistim.com/

Tim Davis at Greenberg Van Doren Gallery

http://www.gvdgallery.com/

Tim Davis, The Upstate New York Olympics

Tim Davis, The New Antiquity

You are standing in a field in Italy, looking at a pile of rocks. They are unremarkable, rutting out the ground like any gentle reminder that we live on something called a “crust.” You’ve seen rocks and these are rocks. But someone else—a friend, a guidebook, a scholar—sees a temple, an Etruscan temple of characteristic proportions carved from something called “tufa” and consecrated to Fufluns, a wine god. You don’t exactly see a temple, but sense that these rocks—as integral to the ecosystem of any vacant Roman lot as seasonal chicory and perennial used condoms—are suddenly significant. They mean something they stubbornly refused to mean minutes before.
(excerpt from Davis's writing The New Antiquity)

Tim Davis, Poolhenge

Tim Davis, Sugar Packets

Tim Davis, my life in politics

Tim Davis, 4. Seven Entertainers
Xena Warrior Princess looks like Bill Clinton' mom. As do some of the women he loves. And in Sunset Boulevard t-shirt shops, I've come to play Pompeii. Hurculaneum, insists Xena. OK. Meanwhile the wrist is voted most erotic axis as Buffy and John Kennedy share a, yes, explicable encounter. The figures at right are believed to be Mao and Mata Hari. (excerpt from Davis's writing My Life in Politics)

Tim Davis, 12. Press Only
Attempting journalism I discovered documentary. Invited to the press conference but lacking sat. phone and dig. back, I got narrowly locked out. Locked, that is, face to face with a Delphi of reaction shots. I couldn't hear the announcements, but noted the annunciation. (excerpt from Davis's writing My Life in Politics)

Tim Davis, 26. Circuit City
O cards to play, O sleeves. A black sheep on a bleak ship walks into a bar, and acts as you'd expect: stunned to see anyone in the room. An allegory and an embarrassed snicker walk into a bald spot, O cramped chest of knowing you're the wrongest possible person for the job. (excerpt from Davis's writing My Life in Politics)