No Surrender

Artist Statement, Belfast, October 1986

On the one side: a country torn apart by the medieval rule and blind obedience to 'a man from Rome' resulting in the law of the gun implemented by the rule of the IRA.  On the other side: the unflinching fanaticism and loyalty to 'a king riding a white horse', the symbol of the Union Jack akin to the Swastika of Nazi Germany.

Perhaps the one optimistic note is in the rapid building of new homes.  Will it be in the home and family that peace and good will eventually be restored?

Extract from catalogue introduction 'No Surrender '86' by Roy Wallis, Professor of Sociology, Queens University of Belfast

Davies' prints throughout – despite his evident repulsion by bigotry and violence, and his implicit condemnation of militarism, professional and amateur: The uglier face of Ulster – reflect sympathy for the common individual, regret for their plight and respect for the endeavours to maintain and develop a worthwhile mode of life. And although he may tampon the braggadocio of loyalist bullying, and indict the vicious indifference to life and human welfare of Nationalist terrorism he can 'nonetheless respect the, integrity of their quarrel. Whatever the evil outcomes they – and the population of Ulster more widely – at least care about something.'

There is a complex social and artistic message behind this work. Davies takes a stand as an artist, one determined to live by and for his art despite the difficulties facing the individual struggling on his own in a largely corporate world.  The artist at least has the resources to create some sense of his life and times, as skill with which to make the mark, to leave something tangible behind. We cannot all be artists, but Davies' work suggests that we may gain a measure of autonomy and control over our lives, and assert our value through commitment to constructing something, through investing our skills with integrity.

Extract of an interview 'Beyond Illustration' Anthony Davis talking to David Brett, Circa Art Magazine May/June 1987

DB: Here you are using images of political character, and you won't discuss the character of the politics.

AD: I don't see my work as political in the sense you are trying to put over on me. I think my work is about indignity.  About the fucking awful things I see. I sometimes wish that I could do something a bit sumptuous. But this is the way I am. I've been thinking a lot about British war artists...going off to the Clyde to paint welders...you know what I mean – Stanley Spencer!  Well, there's a sort of war here. It's the bloodiest corner of Europe. I feel that I am a sort of war artist, living in other people's space; feeling the intimidation, the atmosphere. Hearing the helicopter. (Noises off.) I've been living and working in one sort of space and I've made one sort of exhibition out of it. Now I want to move on and do a second part. That's why I want to work in Derry.  Will people say that I'm a Republican because I work in that sort of space? I don't know...I try for a kind of Humanism.

DB: Which is why you say war artist and not war correspondent?

AD: Absolutely.  It's to do with visions. With the capacity to make a strong composition. To go beyond illustration and find yourself in vision.