I would like to read a poem he wrote after taking part in the Paris May Day Rally – last year. He took photographs of the people in the North Eastern area of Paris. A strong image of that day was of many coloured hands holding Mayday banners.
 

Only, when the strike was over, Davey carried on recording the lives of people. Long after the fashion for gritty pictures of poor communities had gone, Davey, growing greater in compassion and refining his art, was making himself familiar on Tyneside – in Byker, Bill Quay, Cruddas Park, the west end, along the Tyne rivershore…………….. among his friends………..

In London, in Paris, in Ireland and in Italy and elsewhere quite possibly. In all these places he was quietly watching and photographing the lives of ordinary people, sometimes in quite extraordinary situations.

He had an irresistible attraction to galas and demos, and an uncanny ability to witness momentous occasions at them. Travelling by bus and foot to and from these places and events, Davey would bring back to Tyneside pictures and stories of other lives.

I learned much from Davey. I thought he took a good picture, and grew to understand why he took it. He taught me ways of seeing, about valuing what we have at home and finding those values in all sorts of diverse places and events.

His sense of justice and his courage kept him true and constant in his role as an eye witness to 20 years of history in the time that I have known him. He was not voyeuristic and he was not patronising, and he could see things and people clearly with or without his camera.

He has been a loyal friend to many of us. He has almost become an institution. We lose, with his untimely death, a figure we have relied upon to be a shrewd eyewitness in times of political, social and cultural change.

Our memories will be poorer for not having him alongside us, seeing the things we experience.

Clare
 

Davey loved the leaning over telegraph pole outside the Free Trade. He loved football and his big new telly. He noticed the smell of people’s skin. He loved “La Boheme” and Dick Gaughin.
He loved a line from a Tom Haddaway play about walking across the lights on the Tyne. Davey reckoned he could tell the time by the colours on the Millenium bridge.
He liked to help with the washing up after a party. He talked about the cracks in the pavement. He wrote poems. 

I like to think of Davey singing (Barbara Allen), Davey laughing, Davey making soup. Davey telling cheesy jokes. There were only a few and they’d come out when we were walking along a street. We’d say “No Davey…no more… please, no more”. He’d keep on laughing and complementing himself about how well he’d told it this time. I like to think of him sitting on the arm of the settee and calling “Charlie, Charlie, Charlie”, until he had Charlie’s full attention to tell a story or an observation he wanted to make. I like to remember Davey dancing. He was a lovely person to dance with. I like to remember him tilting his head for a kiss on the cheek, and when he gave you a hug, he meant it. I liked to hear him say (about photographs) “Do it with love”. I think about his shoes.

Davey would always leave his photos for us to look at and come back to collect them and drink a cup of tea. He liked the second cup of tea from the pot. If you asked him how he wanted his tea, he would say “brown”. He could make a drink last the longest time. He could sit in a bar all night with one glass of beer – or water…the staff at the Free Trade knew he was particular - only one cube of ice in his water. He liked a glass of whisky. He would come around to tell us when there was a bargain bottle of red wine at Netto’s.

Davey talked about people all the time. He talked about his family. His mother, his father, his brothers, sisters in law, nephews and niece. Some of the most important people aren’t  able to be here today. We felt as though we knew them. He talked endlessly about Maketa. He talked about Chris Killip, and Keith Pattinson. These are the people who taught him and encouraged him with his photographs. He talked about Matthew, who is here today. He talked about Colin and Eve and Joe. Eve said last night that Davey was loved in Cable Street. And he talked about Lillian.

Davey loved a lot of people and he touched the lives of a lot of people. He was a big person in our lives. When I spoke to Maketa on the telephone on Monday, she said: “My big lovely Dave.. my big lovely Dave”. And there’s an end.  Our big lovely Dave…
 

(June)
 

FOUR WOMEN, SITTING BY THE THAMES
EMBANKMENT, MIDDAY EATING SANDWICHES.
NOTHING STRANGE, EXCEPT FOR ONE WEARING
A PEACE SHIRT AND ANOTHER ONE WAVING
A PALESTINIAN FLAG.
WERE THEY VETERANS FROM PEACE CAMPS
OR WOMEN AGAINST PIT CLOSURES.
DID THEY HAVE BITTER MEMORIES OF
THATCHERS BOYS IN BLUE?
OR THEIR KNOWLEDGE OF SUCH EVENTS
BEEN GAINED FROM THE PAGES OF THE DAILY MAIL.
WERE THEY DEMO VIRGINS AND THE VEIL
HAD BEEN LIFTED.
AND SEEN THE CORRUPTION OF THE LEADERS
OF MEN, WHO WOULD TAKE US TO WAR,
NOT FOR THE SAKE OF HUMANITY BUT IN
CAUSE OF THE OIL-DOLLAR.

DAVID PEARSON.      15 / 2 / 03

Bill