Stepping into Company Gallery in Soho last year was akin to entering a realm of enchantment. On a typical Wednesday, I found artist TM Davy and a friend lounging on a vibrant array of blankets, surrounded by a kaleidoscope of paintings in his exhibition titled Fae. The artworks featured enigmatic caves, gremlin-like creatures, and ethereal light casting curious glows.
TM Davy has unveiled a hidden world brought into the light, enticing visitors with grotto-like scenes inspired by 1980s and ’90s pop culture, alongside close-ups of faerie-like figures influenced by both classic Calvin Klein ads and fantasy portraits. I engaged the artist in a conversation about his practice, which exudes a vintage faggotry, reflecting the present moment of healing, fantasy, and new horizons.
TM Davy: Upon entering Company Gallery, you encounter a small green faerie emerging from a pink portal, a tiny monster expressing joy at our presence. Chromatic faerie caves, adorned with vines, line the main room, supporting pine tree gardens above. Across from us, a human-sized faerie waves a wand in a circle of butterfly-winged friends. A spectrum of wing-eared little ones engage in various activities, encouraged by even smaller faeries to fly. The room is a hub of mystic caves, each with varying colors and sizes, framing a moment. Blue faerie has found its home, while Red Satyr enjoys a joint. The ambiance is filled with dancing, floating, gazing, posing, and flower-picking. The vibe is love. The room resonates with transmuted consciousness, creating eyes in a play of hue, form, and material expression. A stoned sun drum and a mossy harp rest on the ground. Some days, groups of visitors gather to play music in the room.
TMD: Working from imagination infuses so much life into the art. I might see a friend’s gesture in a faerie, a sister’s joy, or an old crush passing through faer eyes. Sometimes, difficult emotions or unresolved memories surface. The process involves following the fae as I feel it. Yellow Satyr, for instance, started as an abstract attraction. He exuded heat but shared a trigger of judgment or distrust that felt unshakeable. Then, somehow, he transformed into a likeness of my middle school best friend. I recall us drawing magic together and later drifting apart. We reconnected during a summer home from college, only to face hostility when a pal called me a “faggot,” leading to a violent attack. Twenty-six years later, Yellow Satyr has me integrating that score. Yet, the painting felt melancholic, prompting me to find my old friend on Instagram. He apologized, and Yellow Satyr changed again, becoming gentle and evolving into a timeless lover.
TMD: The cave serves as a somatic haven, a home base for faerie teller consciousness. Visualizing breath as an inspired witness traveling into an emotional body was integral to this work. Following the insights into a loop with painting led to the discovery that bright hues and linseed oil could reveal faerie caves across the wood grain planters. My family has a tradition of honoring fairies at the knots of great trees.
TMD: Candystore wrote the text, and I love shimher writing. That is a book we both adore. Hi Ned! Things get loose, and things get tight in Ramrod. But the fairies know a sustainable ecosystem is diverse. We’ve got to keep each other alive. The works in Fae feel fae-gendered to me, a dreamy non-dual embodiment.
TMD: Students of realism understand how internal symbols project into the observational depiction of an external world. Electromagnetic spectrums play across form and space, and a realist meditation involves witnessing visual phenomena separable from unconscious structures. Still, we choose where to look. In a symbolism begotten by realism, the witness begins to train that same attention back inward. What image is there to be revealed? What wants to be projected? Symbols seem to realize and transcend in feeling seen. The game of light and color becomes as intimate and mysterious as it feels.
TMD: There’s something about a monomythic quest. I’ve listened to Joseph Campbell enough to see how these stories chart my unconscious realm with their magic ones. Jim Henson was a genius of the heart. The breathwork Mr. Miyagi teaches in Karate Kid II was beautiful for my childhood self, but I lost the practice to adolescence. Rediscovering conscious breathing saved me again in recent years. A satyr briefly became Ralph Macchio to remember our first teacher. It occurred to me at some point that my recurring dream of grottos was first informed by Big Bird Goes to China very early in my life. Superman in the fortress of solitude. Labyrinth. Dark Crystal. [My Neighbor] Totoro. Too many to know where influence ends. But I’m grateful to the avatars and magic friends.
TMD: Painting is my primary love language. I work into the caves like I’m tapping a song in myself. Much of the work is about conjuring light from matter and letting it radiate into a spacious, awake feeling like magic in the room. It’s a way to be in touch.
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