I first stumbled upon David’s work when I was around the same age as he was when he passed away from AIDS in 1988. He was aged just 36. His art is like a talisman, a guiding force that connects the past to the future. His poetry, musings, paintings – they’re not just brushstrokes; they’re a lifeline, a hand reaching out across time. In an era shadowed by the AIDS crisis, he created art that wasn’t just visually stunning but emotionally visceral, luring the viewer in to hear his words, just for a moment. His works are sparse, but with one glance you can feel the remnants of gay struggle, defiance, and joy, all pulling at him at once.
