There’s a joyous abundance in Davidson’s paintings, a delight in the historical anachronism of the act of painting. In Angelic Fever, St Michael slams the Devil in the neck with a bendy pole, while a thicket of branches in the background (culled from an image found online of a snow-capped wood) struggles for pictorial supremacy. Disregarding pictorial niceties (anatomical accuracy, compositional logic, tonal consistency) means Davidson’s painting is invested with the immediacy of a story told by an excited child: words tumble out, in whatever order they happen to appear.