Noah Davis by Hanna Dhaimish
American curator, Helen Molesworth, describes the work of Noah Davis as 'A dream world that had all this room for other people's dreams too.' Davis spent his tragically cut short career depicting Black life with all its vibrancy and nuance, whilst sprinkling over a hint of mystical realism. He blended social commentary with surrealist elements throughout his work, establishing himself as an important voice in contemporary art before his untimely death from cancer in 2015 at just 32 years old. Beyond his painting practice, Davis founded The Underground Museum in Los Angeles with his wife Karon, transforming four disused shopfronts in Arlington Heights into a cultural centre with the mission to 'ensure that no one has to travel outside the neighbourhood to see world-class art.' His diverse body of work—from pointed critiques of media representation to tender family portraits and imaginative reinterpretations of community spaces—reveals an artist deeply committed to expanding the visual language of Black experience while honouring both artistic traditions and everyday moments with equal reverence. The UK's first institutional survey of Davis' work is being held at the Barbican in London, where I found myself confronted with themes of loss, mortality, and the quiet dignity that can emerge in life's most challenging moment, that echoed my own experience with grief.
Noah Davis, 40 Acres and a Unicorn, 2007 (c) The Estate of Noah Davis Courtesy The Estate of Noah Davis and David Zwirner
The first room, Domestic Spirits, contains early work by Davis including the 2007 painting 40 Acres and a Unicorn. The piece represents the unfulfilled decree promised to formerly enslaved families after the Civil War that they would receive 40 acres of land and a loaned mule as reparations. This hope for economic independence was crushed when Abraham Lincoln's successor, Andrew Johnson, reversed the order. This moment in American history has been immortalised in popular culture through Spike Lee's production company, 40 Acres and a Mule Filmworks, and referenced by Kendrick Lamar (who Davis' brother Kahlil was a collaborator) in his 2015 song turned protest anthem Alright. The ghostly unicorn and man upon its back emerge from an all black background in which Davis has been able to create notable depth. The painting represents the broken the promise and perfectly embodies Davis' ability to fuse real life with fantasy.
Savage Wilds (2012) is a series where Davis critiques American daytime trash TV's exploitation of Black lives as voyeuristic entertainment. His paintings capture disturbing scenes from Maury and The Jerry Springer Show, juxtaposing the crude spectacle against backgrounds that incorporate high-brow artistic references such as Piet Mondrian. This deliberate contrast heightens the tension between 'low' and 'high' culture, while connecting to the 1988 play of the same name by Ishmael Reed, in which producers of a reality TV show decide that a Black man should be hunted for entertainment. Reed's work demonstrates how the commodification of Black suffering was recognised as a problematic theme in American media long before reality television reached its peak.
The 1975 is a series of paintings based on Davis' mother's photographs, deliberately depicting Black figures with obscured faces to capture their essence and humanity beyond the constraints of external observation. His Pueblo del Rio (2014) series reimagined a struggling housing project as a vibrant cultural centre, populated with Black ballet dancers, conductors, and public sculptures. Through these works, Davis manifested his vision of bringing artistic experiences to underserved communities—a mission that extends beyond merely highlighting the well-documented connection between poverty and limited cultural access. The Pueblo del Rio housing project was partially designed by Paul Revere Williams, a hero of Davis and celebrated Black architect whom Davis depicted in The Architect (2009), with Williams' head veiled by expressive swipes of white paint, creating a visual interruption between the architect and his model, as if capturing the ephemeral nature of his creative thoughts and explanations.
There is an undeniable love to be found in Davis' work, both for his family—seen in tender depictions of his wife in Isis (2009) and 1984 (2009)—and for the techniques of other artists he admired. In The Missing Link 3 (2013) he incorporates Mark Rothko's approach, using quadrilateral shapes of immersive colour, while in The Missing Link (2012) he integrates Manet's bold contrasts and flattened perspective to depict a man positioned against a tree, gun in hand. Davis's fearlessness shines through in both Nobody (2008 series) and Imitation of Wealth (2013 series) — two projects that defy expectations placed on him in regards to his previous work. In Nobody, his first solo exhibition, Davis created political abstract paintings of 'swing states' rendered in purple. In Imitation of Wealth, Davis responded to institutional rejection with brilliant subversion. When museums refused to lend works to The Underground Museum, he simply created his own versions of iconic pieces by Flavin, Duchamp, Koons, Smithson, and Karawa using everyday materials. The Barbican exhibition includes Journey to the Moon (2003), a film by South African artist, William Kentridge, which was shown as part of the first show at The Underground Museum, and the only one Davis lived to see.
Noah Davis, The Missing Link 4, 2013 © The Estate of Noah Davis, Courtesy The Estate of Noah Davis and David Zwirner
Painting for My Dad (2011) was created after Davis learned of his father's cancer diagnosis. Seeking inspiration during this difficult time, he focused on the rock formations he passed daily while commuting to his Harlem studio - a space chosen to be closer to his father. The painting shows a male figure at the edge of an abyss, his posture both vulnerable and brave, holding a lamp whose faint light might offer guidance. Hung in its own section of the gallery to affirm its poignancy and provide the quiet contemplation it deserves, this work affected me profoundly.
Noah Davis, Painting for My Dad, 2011 (c) The Estate of Noah Davis Courtesy The Estate of Noah Davis and David Zwirner
In 2016, my own father, a political cartoonist and artist, was working in the Middle East when he began to notice changes to his motor skills. His health declined rapidly, and when he flew back to the UK he went straight from the airport to the GP, who recommended immediate palliative care. He was dying, with no treatment options beyond making his final weeks comfortable. My father had always been a fighter, his life defined by opposing systems and demanding respect and dignity. Yet in that moment at the doctor's office, I watched something in him soften as he handed over his life. Standing before Davis’s canvas, I was transported into my father's experience and the unknowing of what was coming next. Understanding its genesis in Davis's own grief, I found myself sobbing.
Two years after his father's death, Davis himself was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. He continued to make work during his treatment, creating Seventy Works (2014), where he collaged and painted onto vintage archival paper—a poignant testament to his determination to create, even as his health deteriorated. Davis passed away in 2015, leaving behind a profound artistic legacy. Standing amid his work at the Barbican brings Molesworth's words full circle - this truly is 'a dream world that had all this room for other people's dreams too.' The exhibition aches with what might have been and pulses with what remains - Davis left us with work that doesn't merely depict Black life but celebrates its complexity, challenges, and quiet beauty. We feel not just the weight of his loss but the enduring power of what he created - work that reminds us art isn't just about looking, but about seeing yourself reflected back.