When Denver, Colorado began to come into its own as a hub for independent artistry in late 2001, the city was amidst a sort of identity crisis as it transitioned from the mountain-west themes of its past to subjects more aligned with an emerging urban playground at altitude. As the decade progressed, Denver found itself often times the least likely candidate to offer sanctuary to a plethora of expressionists, many of whom were early adopters of new and subversive methods in their pursuit of broad artistic and social commentary.
Frank Kwiatkowski came of age during this period and those who recognize the city’s perpendicular neighborhood streets have at one point or another most likely seen his version of the underground ethos made iconic by the likes of Shepard Fairey and others. Make no mistake though, Kwiatkowski is no borrower. The artist’s themes are provocative, as is his method of etching street cones – much in the same vain of a linoleum reduction process – and it has many buzzing with stories of his meticulous handy-work.
And although city authorities have been persistent in their attempts to interrupt Kwiatkowski’s work, not only has his art flourished, but his namesake project, The Kwiatkowski Press, has become a relative mythology to those in a city finally being recognized nationally for its talent.
The artist recently spoke with RootSpeak after an opening of his latest works at Colorado’s own Red Delicious Press.
RS: Can you give us a little personal background as to your history? Where do you hail from and what was your upbringing like?
FK: I was born in Denver at Saint Anthony Central. My upbringing was working class, and my dad and mom divorced before I was in Kindergarten. My dad was a factory shipping clerk; my mom babysat, upholstered furniture and later cleaned houses. My older siblings split duties watching out for me and my younger sister. We were clustered together and there was very little privacy. We all had chores and if we didn’t do as we were told we were punished.
I was diagnosed as a type 1 diabetic at age eight and spent the first eight years in trial and error. My mom and I had to learn the disease together and it was a constant fight. I had many insulin reactions, some resulting in 911 emergencies. After I moved out with my dad I took care of the diabetes and learned from my mistakes.
RS: Who and what comprises The Kwiatkowksi Press and what’s the aim of the project?
FK: The press is run by myself – I run it from home. I often joke about all its operatives. Some friends have helped to hang up posters and my friend David helped with software issues. Some people think it has a structure, but I don’t – its application is more theoretical. Initially I posted around my neighborhood, and later the hospitals were my terrain. The aim is unknown, but I’d rather do what I’m doing than nothing. I really enjoy a good prank on the masses and printmaking is an art of the masses. When I do art, I know that is what I am supposed to be doing; I have no choice in the matter. I’m not a believer in freedom – the idea offends me. I do, however, believe in freedom of speech. One is different from the other.
RS: Why street cones? And what lead you down this path?
FK: Subversive methods led me down this path. The end justifies the means. Guerrilla art can have a profound effect. Take Banksy, for example – the work I do isn’t as grand in scale, but it has had some effect. Traffic cones were my way around the high cost of linoleum, scratchboard, or wood. Cones made me a printmaker. If I didn’t have them I would not have been as prolific. I also got a hold of free paper several years ago. Again, this was another way around the costs. I learned printmaking by trial and error, simply by doing and occasionally looking at books for reference. I don’t have an actual press with professional equipment.
RS: Understanding that your diabetic condition has greatly influenced the tone and content of your artwork, what other themes would you hope your audience might take from the pieces themselves? Do you concern yourself with linear or intentioned interpretations?
FK: I think my work misfires. I don’t consider myself an authority on it, and people get whatever they want out of it. The syringe is such a taboo object. More drug users respond to my work, and I can sympathize with their trials. I have nothing against them. A heroin user’s response is just as valid as an insulin user’s. The syringe can be repulsive to people. It can be used to medicate, to contaminate, to spread disease or to shoot up narcotics. I don’t intend to shock people. The syringe is a daily presence for me. I hate it and love it in one breath.
RS: If you don’t mind, can you walk us through a day in your life as far as the creative process is concerned?
FK: I do a mixture of print pressing, drawing and carving new templates. The tasks are repetitive. I hang prints to dry, let them set for days, write the press name on them, then roll several up for storage. Sometimes the tasks are as simple as cropping posters, but it’s all very hard work.
RS: Because of the means by which you distribute your work, we’re obviously aware that certain municipalities have given you a bit of grief regarding their perceptions on the content of the art itself. How is this battle fought for you day in and day out?
FK: The grief the authorities give me validates the work, but sometimes I get paranoid. The health care system in the states is so bad for indigent and chronically ill people. There’s all this red tape and bureaucracy. Where telephone poles are concerned, the city seems to leave me alone these days. Once a security guard at a hospital told me I wasn’t allowed to put up prints on public property. I took the print down and moved on. There was no point in an argument. Another security guard emailed me and said he took posters down on his off time as a duty to the citizens of Denver.
RS: As far as personal influences, who or what drives your creative output?
FK: I draw inspiration from several sources. To name some… Antonin Artaud, Joe Coleman, Eric Drooker, Marcel Duchamp, Ray Johnson, heretics, the Surrealists, Solidarity (the Polish Trade Union), Gunter Grass, the Dadaists, Thomas Ott, a do it yourself philosophy, Emory Douglas, Kathe Kollwitz, William Blake, Lynd Ward, Bob Flanagan and Dame Darcy.
RS: What would you ultimately hope to accomplish through both your work and also the culture surrounding The Kwiatkowski Press?
FK: The posters have turned into something of a cult following. When I do public art some people tell me they collect the prints. The results of public art can’t be measured. The medical field probably wouldn’t embrace my work, because it doesn’t always present a pretty picture. I have been banned from entering Saint Luke’s Presbyterian due to pranks. For me disease is felt on the economical side – that’s where people get devalued and marginalized.
I’d like artists in need to take cue and use cones – they could be their own movement. There are so many vantage points and styles any artist could come from. Eventually I’d like to have a place for the press with professional equipment. I’d like to collaborate with people who’d bring their work into the fold. I’d like to do a graphic novel – the prints for such a novel already exist, but it would not be a linear novel. It would reflect the madness and obscurity of existence.
