David
Bryan
Stevens

Everything I make has something
underneath it.

I build in layers — metal over canvas over thread, ink through ink, image collaged onto image, oxidation and chance laid down first and then covered and uncovered until the thing has a depth you can feel. The prettiness up top is the invitation; it's almost never the point. I'm after what the surface is keeping from you: beauty over decay, the sacred sharing a frame with the profane, the rose and the thorn you don't notice until you reach for it.

I uncover the body — the large, hairy, queer male body a culture would rather not look at. I take the cover off, wrap it in leather and lilies and angel wings, and dare you to keep looking.

I work in metal, film grain, pixels, AI, these are my tools — every layer a question about the one below.

I trained as a graphic designer, so I know how to build a polished surface. I just refuse to let the surface be the end of it.

Look closer. There's always something under there.