It was Sunday, December 12, 1992, just a week or so before he was due to head to Mustique for the holidays. David Bowie was 45 years old and was promoting his 18th album, Black Tie White Noise, which would be released in a few months.
He was wandering around a few photographers, seeing what it felt like to re-enter the market after being involved with boy band Tin Machine for a few years; this project was increasingly looking like the fantasy of a particularly perverted real estate agent. He had been married to Iman for six months, and his desire to make music again had a lot to do with the renewed energy.
Actually he was happy.
As usual, Bowie arrived at Metro Studios in Cykenwell, accompanied by his long-time assistant Coco. She was his everything, just as he was her everything. He was soft and hard, nice and tough, short and tolerant, he did whatever he wanted. He was completely light today because his load was twice as heavy. Smiling, laughing, eager to continue the day.
The photographer was Kevin Davies, the least flamboyant of his kind, but still a man with relationships with all the major magazines of the time: i-D, The Face, Arena, The Sunday Times Magazine and Vogue. Bowie immediately warmed to him and the results of that meeting now form the basis of an exhibition opening next month at the Fitzrovia Chapel, just north of Oxford Street.
That morning, photographer and subject arrived at the studio almost at the same time and began planning and planning the day in the most organized way.
Bowie was curious, talkative and eager to see where the shoot would go. For 25 years he had been directing photographers, allowing them to direct him, and he had an almost codependent relationship with his image, but he had softened almost beyond belief.
He would erase the memory of the Tin Machine not with an overly volatile statement, but rather with a considered development. Here he was, sharing Polaroid photos with Davies and enjoying the box of Bond Street clothes that were now ubiquitous around the studio.
He was taking a break in the dressing room between takes. Kevin’s comment was that he needed some privacy to be comfortable in front of the camera. At lunch, Bowie was talking excitedly about his hair and make-up, the music he listened to, and the clubs he would go to. He was very friendly and engaging with everyone on the shoot.
Still, Kevin was quite surprised by her reticence and the thoughtful nature of her demeanor; but it almost certainly reflected Davies’ own style of working.
He was friendly and open to ideas throughout the shoot, down to earth and easy to work with. He was interested in collaborating, especially towards the end of the day when he was completely relaxed, resulting in some of the more personal portraits they took; many of them are displayed in this exhibition. The theme of the shoot was probably the opposite of most similar sessions at the time; The goal was to develop an idea using as little variation as possible. So this was a very special London day.
A selection of Davies’ photographs were later approved by Bowie for use in the press, and Kevin then placed the original film rolls, contact prints and prints into storage, where they remained for almost 30 years. During lockdown in 2020, Davies unearthed the boxes and revealed perfectly preserved film negatives of more than 400 images of his single day with Bowie; The details of these images were obscured by the indistinguishable memory of a luminous being.
Kevin decided to do something about it and spent months poring over the images, whittling them down to 24 which will soon be displayed in the Fitzrovia Chapel.
“In the anxiety of lockdown, it was a relief to trace my career through discarded negative boxes,” says Davies. “I finally got the opportunity to do something I’ve wanted to do for a long time; to rediscover past works in their entirety. For me, this exhibition is a chance to show the photographic process beyond a commission.
“Some of the images are in the form of diptychs and triptychs, inspired by Richard Avedon. I wanted to convey the progress of the shoot and show the subtle differences between frames. “It was a process of reconnecting his original choices with my choices.”
While Kevin was making his selections, he asked me to curate the exhibition, which was one of the best offers I’ve had in a while. Who wouldn’t want to curate a Bowie exhibition? I always enjoyed working with Kevin, especially because of his attention to detail.
“The color of the images was the result of my long relationship with my printer, Brian Dowling, who printed the original prints in 1992,” says Davies. “I also had a desire to rework images that wouldn’t work for every rock star, but would work for Bowie.
“I distinctly remember looking through the viewfinder and thinking: ‘He’s fucking David Bowie, don’t screw this up.’
“What did we talk about? “They are both from London.”
The exhibition is about Bowie, but it is also a representation of the afterlife of analogue photography. It explores the intersection of archival and creative remembrance.
This is a fascinating body of work as it is a visual narrative that takes place over the course of a single session on a single day. This not only demonstrates Bowie’s extraordinary attention to detail, but also demonstrates Davies’ ability to shape and catalog narrative.
Madeleine Boomgaarden, director of Fitzrovia Chapel, says: “These beautifully observed images of Bowie fit perfectly into the serene elegance of the chapel. “We are delighted to welcome the images of this London icon to the heart of the city where he grew up.”
He is right. And I guarantee it will be a spiritual experience for everyone who comes.
David Bowie – London Day by Kevin Davies is at Fitzrovia Chapel from 1 to 20 March; fitzroviachapel.org.uk