The Tribune

By EARYEL BOWLEG

Tribune Staff Reporter

ebowleg@tribunemedia.net

BAHAMIAN artist and entrepreneur Stefan Davis was remembered at his funeral on Saturday as a larger-than-life creative force whose devotion to Junkanoo and art made him widely known, but whose daughter said his most important role was far simpler: being her father and best friend.

Davis, better known as “Stefan Legend”, died in a crash on September 2, three days before his September 6 birthday, while in South Florida on what was believed to be a birthday trip.

His funeral reflected a life immersed in art and Bahamian culture. Junkanoo decorations surrounded the service, portraits from throughout his life were displayed around his casket and a life-size sculpture of his head stood at the front. Many mourners wore red pixelated hearts on their chests.

Davis, a father of two and founder of Airbrush Junkies, was remembered by friends for a work ethic that could keep him on projects until four or five in the morning and an artistic reputation that extended beyond The Bahamas.

But for his daughter, Teja Davis, those public accomplishments were secondary to the man she knew at home.

“My dad was my best friend,” Ms Davis said, “and if you take a look at me, he was quite literally my twin.”

She described him as a lover of people, art, Junkanoo and culture, but said family mattered most to him.

The last place she saw her father alive was at church before he left on his final trip.

Ms Davis recalled a close relationship marked by frequent telephone calls, jokes and mutual concern. She would tease him when he arrived late to church with his usual Starbucks order and repeatedly checked his location when he missed curfew.

When she decided to pursue a career in juvenile justice, she said, her father supported her ambitions but worried about the prospect of her working nights in prisons and at rescue.

“My dad approached parenthood differently,” Ms Davis said. “He did it with humility, love, gentleness, transparency, and a whole lot of jokes.”

She said he gave her the freedom to be bold, ambitious, strong and unstoppable while ensuring faith remained central to her life.

But Ms Davis cautioned against mistaking her composure at the funeral for an absence of profound grief.

“This is an unimaginable loss,” she said, “as I absolutely adored my daddy.”

She said she was mourning not only her father's death, but the future moments they would never share — including him walking her down the aisle, watching her raise children, witnessing her career achievements and celebrating future birthdays.

“To many he was an icon, an artistic genius, a creative mastermind,” Ms Davis said, “and although it’s all true, to me he was just my daddy, and I was just his baby girl.”

Friend Khari Albury offered another glimpse into Davis' final days, recounting how the artist had helped organise the birthday trip the men were taking when he died.

Mr Albury, whose birthday was also that month, initially had no intention of joining the trip because he was struggling with the milestone. Davis persisted, sending him pictures, videos and reminders until he changed his mind and bought a ticket.

“Steph was the first person there to greet me,” Mr Albury said. “I knew then and there I had made the right decision.”

On the eve of Mr Albury's September 2 birthday, Davis reminded his friend that not everyone had the opportunity to reach his age — words Mr Albury said have assumed greater significance since Davis' death.

Mr Albury also recalled a near collision while they were travelling back to Miami on the morning of his birthday. Another vehicle swerved towards the side of the car where Davis and Mr Albury were sitting.

“Steph looked at us and said, ‘I got you. You all covered’,” Mr Albury recalled.

What seemed like an ordinary reassurance between friends at the time has stayed with him since Davis' death.

“I'm still waiting for this reality not to be reality,” Mr Albury said, “but I find myself going back to those words.”

He described Davis as “larger than life” and relentlessly hardworking, saying he could spend an entire day on his feet working, finish in the early hours of the morning and still find the energy to go out afterwards.

Leslia Miller Brice remembered a different period of Davis' life, recalling their childhood on Taylor Street and a community shaped by close neighbourhood relationships, family values and respect.

She described him as a quiet but steadfast protector whose loyalty and affection were demonstrated more through his actions than his words.

“His love was quiet,” Ms Miller Brice said. “His loyalty was unshakable, and those who knew him felt it in ways words will never fully capture.”