Jack Davison on a rebellious return to the handmade

Jack Davison is one of the leading visual artists of his generation. His striking photographs have been published by The New York Times, i-D, British Vogue and FT Magazine, and his commercial clients include Burberry, Nike, Hermès and The Row. Davison’s alphabet book for children, A is for Ant (2024), was made into a short film that has been recognised by several film festivals including Sunderland Shorts Film Festival, Brooklyn Film Festival and Seattle Film Festival. Other books by the photographer include Photographs (2019), and Song Flowers (2020). Here, Davison tells D&AD Editor Madhuri Chowdhury how he keeps his craft unmistakably human.

Photographer Jack Davison wasn’t taught conventional image-making techniques – he studied English Literature at university – so he learned his craft by making mistakes and embracing them. He avoids studios when he can, and prefers to work with street-cast models as they bring a unique and surprising energy to his projects. This appreciation for unexpected discoveries drives every part of his practice.

“About two years ago, I got really into photographic etching, which is a very physical and tactile process,” says Davison. “As someone who isn't formally trained in photography, I often question why someone would have to pay for a print of mine when producing it is as simple as clicking a button. It’s something I was struggling with, and then I had a conversation with a gallerist who gave me really good advice: to think of the photograph as a crafted object worth investing in, rather than just a digital file.”

With his etching work, Davison learned an old lithographic technique where a digital file is exposed onto a metal plate. Although there's “some technical wizardry involved, the tangible aspect of the process is very special,” he says. It involves inking the plate manually, leaving fingerprints and traces, which makes each print distinctly human and unique. He notes that there’s something profound about how the prints reflect the process, especially with black-and-white work. Even though hand-cranking the plate through the press takes time, for him, physically printing them in this way elevates the beauty and significance of the photographs.

For Davison, trying new things is key to his evolution as an artist. “What I struggle with the most is seeing people reach a certain level in the industry and then just churn out the same work repeatedly,” he says. “If you have the resources and opportunities, you should be striving to push yourself.”

Below, we ask Davison how he takes creative leaps of faith over a decade into his career:

You’re very established now and your work is well-recognised. How do you keep your spirit of experimentation alive?

JD: I still always try and find a new way of coming at stuff. Recently, for example, I decided to shoot a stills project using a film camera and pull stills from motion footage. My process often involves layering and adding complexity, especially since I work predominantly in digital media. I'm constantly exploring ways to abstract the images further, whether by rephotographing them or printing and capturing them again through additional layers.

Having a small amount of fear about what you're embarking on can help you make things you weren’t expecting to make. Sometimes, that fear might not lead to the results you hope for, but even then, it's all a valuable learning experience.

How has this affinity for the tactile changed how you practice your craft?

JD: Nowadays, if someone wants a print or if I'm preparing for a show, I prefer to make etchings. The tactile experience of printing is far more engaging for me. I love seeing the raw edges of the paper, the imprint left by the plate, and even the slight ink smears that may or may not have been intentional. All those details add to the excitement.

It's also just a joy to witness people experiencing these pieces for the first time. People see my work online – on Instagram or my website – so it’s nice to show the actual final versions of those images. I want people to sit with and appreciate them as physical pieces. It makes me feel less guilty about inviting people to a show, because I've genuinely created something that could be potentially more tangible and meaningful. A lot of the work I’ve created for my next show was made using a small digital point and shoot camera and printed as etchings. It all ties into that idea of trying to keep things raw and genuine.

What advice would you give emerging visual artists if they want to create work that has a distinct human touch like yours does?

JD: One thing I've observed – especially while working on a documentary where I’ve been interviewing a diverse group of photographers of various ages and backgrounds – is that my generation was simply obsessed with photography as an art form, without any real knowledge of the industry. We just wanted to create. In contrast, the new generation I've interviewed, who like me were also taught by Brett Walker, are not just passionate about photography; but they’re also deeply focused on how to succeed in the industry.

It feels like time has been compressed for them. There’s this expectation to come in fully formed, churning out work and being visible in the public eye immediately. For my generation, Flickr was a space for experimentation – it was public, but we were able to explore our identities without the pressure that comes with being tied to our real selves. Now, with Instagram, the stakes feel much higher. To its benefit it has removed a lot of the gatekeeping – allowing interesting artists from around the globe to be discovered – but it also has its downsides.

I worry about the cyclical churn of inspiration, with new images constantly being regurgitated, often from artists who are still developing their styles. It creates a tighter loop of influence that can be hard to escape. I always encourage people to reference influences that go further back in time and to resist the urge to let Instagram set their creative direction. By the time you’re ready to create something influenced by what's currently trending, those ideas may already feel stale.

Many photographers in our industry are outraged by AI. What’s your take?

JD: I’ve barely dipped my toe into AI, but my feelings about it are pretty strong. If I felt that the environment surrounding it was ethical – that the resources were sourced legally and responsibly – I might be more open to it. But honestly, I don’t think that kind of ethically made AI exists, and it probably never will. So my stance is pretty clear: I hate it. I hate when it’s suggested on Google, and the way it’s creeping in or just constantly popping up everywhere. I'm choosing not to engage.

I know there are streamlined processes out there, and I might unknowingly interact with AI-generated content, but when it comes to creating, I would much rather draw something myself or find and pay a sketch artist. I recently turned down a campaign because all the mood board art was AI-generated. I was like, ‘Nah’ If you're not paying your art directors or renderers, then what’s the point?

Check out D&AD’s Unmistakably Human theme in this year’s trend report, where we dive into how in a landscape filled with bland and automated creative, it’s human feeling, impeccable craft, and offbeat thinking that rises to the top.