Tuesday, December 12, 2000 By Mike Thomas Staff Reporter
Collage artist has a gift for the twisted
Awhile back, artist Barry Kite met puzzle inventor Pam Canfield at the Wells Street art fair in Old Town. Canfield flipped over his stuff and assured him that someday, kid, she'd put him in jigsaws. When, just months ago, she joined the staff of Sunnywood Inc., a game company in Lake Forest, she made good on her promise. Next February, at the American International Toy Fair in New York, Sunnywood will unveil two of Kite's mad amalgamations: "Luncheon of the Trucking Party" and "Sunday in the Parking Lot," some assembly required. Kite, whose roots are in Chicago but whose studio is in San Francisco, is a collagist. You're envisioning pouty lips. Stop it. A collagist creates collages-infinitely better collages than the ones you made at Montessori, but collages nonetheless. To date, Kite has sold more than 25,000 prints and a half million postcards of his works-comical, irreverent, blasphemous marriages of fine art and, often, campy pop icons. Much of his canon is fairly demented. And it's a good thing, too, because demented sells. It sell music, it sells books, and, of course, it sells, or at least creates an interest in, art. Many of Kite's collages are so over-the-top, they're funny. And also tasteless. But mostly funny. Dementedly funny. Or funnily demented, if you prefer. And it sure is groovy when the two get along, as they frequently do in his wacky world. Kite's images derive their twistedness not through traditional painting techniques (though they require occasional touch-ups), but through the measured juxtaposition of classic paintings and, for instance, Santa Clauses or Barbie dolls or chain saws, the funky confluence of which yields pieces that look just as swell in frames as they do on mugs and T-shirts and all manner of giftshopish paraphernalia. You see, Kite has a knack for selling out. In fact, he'd like to sell out more. "I'm conflicted," he says. Upon closer examination, the ever-expanding licensing of his images is not really "selling out" at all. For one, it yields few if any profits; in most cases, Kite's lucky if he breaks even. So why does he do it? Advertising, primarily. He knows the more his work is seen, the more it (and he) seeps into public consciousness. And once the seepage reaches flood level, then and only then might he mop his brow with C-notes. Not that he thinks about that. Much. "Yes, I need an income," he says, "but I'm not in it for the money. It's for recognition, it's for communication." For now, the diversification keeps food in his mouth and gas in his van. He wanted a Karmann Ghia, he settled for a van, presumably because it was cheaper. And also better for schlepping. Kite does a lot of schlepping, primarily to art fairs, where he sets up shop and schmoozes, however reluctantly, prospective business partners. It is his least favorite part of the job. Last year, he drove 40,000 miles. "Planning these shows is a pain. I'd rather be in the back room cutting up pictures and putting them together," Kite admits. "But I like to eat." Then again, he realizes, it's better (for an artist, at least) than selling cars, which he did in a previous life. He's ever mindful, too, that it's how the whole puzzle thing came about, not to mention a partnership with the Chicago-based Leona's restaurant chain, many locations of which sport Kite's art. Some of his most twisted images, sold also through his aptly named San Francisco company, Aberrant Art, and his Web site, www.aberrantart.com, include a cutout of the Golden Book Santa Claus being shot out of his sleigh by artist Arthur Tait's deer hunters, who have bagged Rudolph (the red-nosed) while canoeing on the Thames River in the shadow of Monet's "Houses of Parliament." Another, again involving gun play, depicts a naughty Rockwellian lad being shot, this time execution style, by a Vietnamese soldier. The jarring image is based on vintage Vietnam-era photojournalism, and Kite's combination does little to soften the edges. Violence runs throughout his work, as do sex, drugs and, occasionally, fruitcakes. This is social commentary at its most perverted. So laugh if you want. In public, even. Just realize that some folks will think, if they don't already, that you're very, very sick in the head. Though maybe you're OK with that, in which case feel free to bust a gut or two. Speaking of deranged laughter, Kite's newest, as yet unpublished collage pairs the two watchmen from Rembrandt's "Night Watch," with a cutout of the sizable derriere (the French term is so much classier) from Francois Boucher's 18th century nude, "Reclining Girl," to form a piece titled, "Distracted by Intense Conversation and Personal Problems, Captain Frans Banning Cocq and Lt. Willem van Ruytenburgh Wander Up the A_ _ of Louis XV's Mistress." Art history class was never this fun.