The grout of life
Tim Kapustka's latest show celebrates the everyday (with a little canned ham thrown in)

by Stephen Sellers

“Take her to Belt Salvage! Trust me, she’ll love it!”

– Tim Kapustka, dating advice 

For this week’s “Between the Beats,” I sat down with local artist and dear friend Tim Kapustka. He is the bearded and mustachioed yeoman of Studio & who, over the last decade and with fellow gallery counterparts past and present, has wrested a vibrantly inclusive arts collective unlike anything in Durango. It goes without saying, but his idea of a hot date is meandering through the sweaty muse that is a rusty salvage yard.

Perhaps you’ve run into Kapustka deep in the bowels of the aforementioned salvage yard or while sifting through a Saturday morning garage sale. Kapustka has a predilection for seeking out the forgotten everyday objects of our post-capitalist hellscape and using them as vector-based story starters for dialogue, conversation and general merriment. Kapustka’s latest solo show, “In Between Everything” transcends traditional art shows and launches this Fri., May 12, at Studio & with an opening reception from 5-9 p.m.

SS: What can we expect from your first solo show in three years?

TK:  What I’m hoping to push off the dock with this show is, “the wonderful grout of life.” My thoughts are that we have the tendency to define our lives on the big days – the good and the bad. The wedding day, the day someone you love passes away. These are good and bad, big tent poles. My point is that most of the days are just days. Friday and Monday, they get all of the press. Tuesday is magnificent. Most of our life and most of our existence is in between. 

SS: How do you prepare for a solo art show?

TK: I want to have a concept. In the fall, I knew I was going to have a show in May. One part of me is very analytical. I can work backwards from the gallery space. I can show you my notebook where I’ve got it mapped out – how big of pieces can go where. And, that helped me decide, “OK, 18 pieces.” Then, I start making a list, “Old this, old that.” Lots of old stuff. Or, go down to my studio and realize that what I’m doing with my life has so much bleed in with what I’m doing as an artist. So, all this s*** I’m acquiring from garage sales or Belt Salvage just because it’s stuff that I like has really come to life and is justified being in this show. I have almost everything that I can touch and have in my hand that I’ve made pieces on. One of the things I did for this show was I set up a photo studio to take reference photos where I can control the light and shadows. I take a bunch of pictures, control what I want to control, and then I just build it digitally from there.

SS: The power of suggestion is largely at play in your work. You seem keenly interested in what your art evokes in the audience. How has that come about?

TK: We have that in us, that sense of story, of memory. They are very close to synonymous, memory and story. My Mom was an elementary school teacher, and so I’d always go to school early and we’d go into the office and we’d make dittos on the ditto machine. And, she’d always give me these story starters to keep me busy. I always go back to those story starters, and I try to do that with my work. They’re story starters. We could sit here all night flipping through my prints and take turns telling stories.

SS: Are there things that you’re pushing back on with your art?

TK: When I am making my work, that’s mine. I can make these statements about pushing against capitalism or whatever. Those things are part of who I am, and when I’m making these pieces, they’re mine. When I sign off and put them on the wall, they’re not mine anymore. That’s why I’m so excited to tee this show up as, “What do you think this piece means?” I very rarely will share what a piece means to others. I’m not the one who definitively gets to say what this means anymore. 

SS: Your art and design is very iconic in Durango. What’s it like to see people wear your shirts, look at your “Fun” mural at Zia or see the “Weminuche” bumper sticker on pickup truck? I’ve even seen your “Soup” hat in airports and outside of Durango, even.

TK: In these divided times, let us come together around soup! It’s different. It’s humbling that people are like, “Yeah, I love soup, too!” To be fair, I’m championing things that are kind of like shooting fish in a barrel. You’re certainly not gonna see many people like, “F*** the Weminuche! And, I certainly don’t like fun!”  

SS: Why do you think people gravitate to your work?

TK: I was born in 1975, I grew up in the ’80s. This is the bloom of American society decades after the war. The blender, that typewriter. People say, “Write about what you know.” These things are what I know. When people dig on my stuff, I can tell you how old they are within three years. 

SS: How did you find yourself becoming enamored with vector-based art?

TK: Really it wasn’t until I moved here. I’ve been a graphic designer for a couple of decades now. I’m rocking (Adobe) CS5 on a computer I bought in 2009. When I do upgrade, I’m sure things will get easier, but I just don’t care. I’m not trying to chase the dragon of new technology.

SS: What special things are in store for your opening.

TK: We will be having a canned ham giveaway and instigating people to share stories. There’s going to be music by DJ Chris Heightchew. And, your regular community gathering that we’ve all come to expect here at Studio &.

Find out more about Kapustka, his salvage yard scores and his art on Instagram @wdebalt.