Danny Gibson’s Quiet Contributions

Forty hours of Danny Gibson’s week are occupied by a data-entry job, but when he’s not at work, he’s often putting together an art project of some kind in the basement of his house, which sits south of 39th Street in the shadow of the old Loretto Academy building. Gibson is a collector of things — gloves, old toys, obsolete technology, office paper, corn husks, helicopter leaves — and he stores his prized finds in this colorful subterranean lair.

That he is an artist who uses much of what he collects in his work cushions him from the label of the collector’s less endearing alter ego: the hoarder. But a case could be made. Gibson is best known for DJG Design, the name under which he has been designing poster art for local and national bands for the past decade. Starting September 2, he’s displaying somewhere in the neighborhood of 400 original pieces of work in an exhibition, Quietly Contributing, at 1819 Central Gallery. None of them are for sale. After the show concludes at the end of the month, he’ll haul them all back to his cave.

“I’ve only sold a few originals,” Gibson says, sorting through a dusty stack of notes, sketches and old prints. “A lot of this stuff I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of. They mean too much to me.”

Nosing around Gibson’s basement is like flipping through an old yearbook of the Kansas City and Lawrence music scenes. Anvil Chorus, In the Pines, the Stella Link, Namelessnumberheadman, Doris Henson, the Afterparty, and about a hundred other local bands’ names — many defunct and mostly forgotten — are inventively fashioned onto show posters. In this way, the 1819 Central show isn’t just a celebration of Gibson’s work. It also serves as a kind of retrospective of the past 10 years in our local music scene.

“There’s a sort of timeline or history involved with these posters,” he says. “Lots of stories, lots of other people’s bands. Promoters, venues. Posters have such a short life span, and then they’re kind of forgotten. So it’ll be neat to line it all up.”

This winter, Gibson made the decision to retire DJG Design in order to focus more fully on visual art, which also makes the show a bit of a memorial. “I had been wrestling with the design thing for several years. I’ve always been more into visual art than design,” Gibson says. “And I’ve been kind of moving out of the music scene in some ways. A lot of my friends in bands have grown up and moved away. I don’t get out as much as I used to. I woke up one morning in February and was like, ‘I’m done.’ It felt good.”

Gibson grew up on a farm in north-central Missouri — barnyard imagery is a recurring theme in his work — then studied art and design at Missouri State University in Springfield. After four years, he dropped out and relocated to Kansas City, where he moved into a house (“a rathole by where Costco is now”) with some Elevator Division band members, whom he knew from Springfield. The house became a sort of revolving door for local musicians, and Gibson converted the basement, used by a previous tenant as a photography studio, into his own art studio. He started making posters for Elevator Division shows, which led to work with other bands.

“A lot of people knew Elevator Division, so people would see my stuff and come to me and be like, ‘Hey, will you make us a poster?’ ” he says. “I got paid a lot of times in cheeseburgers. There’s no real money in making poster art for your friends’ bands. But it was exactly what I wanted to do. Make art, mix it with music. I had a really great time with it.”

Working for design and advertising firms was never appealing to Gibson, partially because of his aversion to computers. (He has a very old-looking desktop in his basement that contains a version of Photoshop’s 1999 5.5 version, which he uses sparingly.) For many of his DJG years, Gibson was employed as a janitor at the Kansas City Board of Trade, an occupation that allowed both his collector’s instincts and his artist’s instincts to run wild. He once intercepted 15,000 sheets of office paper headed for the Dumpster and took them home. Plant clippings he discovered in a trash can were repurposed as the font for a Billions poster.

“I’m big on process, and being a janitor allowed me to work out a lot of my daily thoughts and ideas,” Gibson says. “I’d end up writing and sketching things on paper towels. Sometimes I’d put the paper towels, or whatever I was writing on, into the final posters. I love midcentury Polish poster art and folk art. The hands-on, cut-and-paste approach. I like including my notes or even my e-mails on posters. It gives it a more human element that I think is missing in a lot of computer design stuff these days.”

Gibson’s imaginative worldview makes it easy for him to artfully convert cat hair into lettering, but self-promotion comes less naturally. I spoke to a number of people who consider Gibson one of the most talented artists in the city. But Gibson largely lacks ties to the local art establishment. “I like to sort of exist in my own little world, I guess,” he says. “In some ways I don’t think I really understand the adult world. I can survive in it. But I prefer to be down here in the basement, working on my stuff.”

Lately, though, some friends who believe strongly in Gibson’s work have emerged to assist him in getting his name and work further out into the public sphere. Some of them, not surprisingly, are musicians. Coinciding with Quietly Contributing is DJG Was Here, a 35-song compilation album (downloadable for free at noisetrade.com/djgwashere) featuring music from many of the musicians for whom Gibson has designed posters over the years: Darling at Sea, Max Justus, Sam Billen, the ACBs, Thom Hoskins, David Seume.

“Danny puts sweat into everything he makes,” says Bryan Lamanno, whose band, the Tambourine Club, appears on the compilation. “He’s not just sitting at a computer. I always just let him do whatever he wants when he designs stuff because he always comes up with something fun and interesting and intricate.”

Though Gibson is a collector, he also likes to share and is eager for others to see what he’s put together for Quietly Contributing.

“There’s some great moments that I’m excited for people to see,” Gibson says. “Sometimes I look at these posters and I’m like, ‘What was I doing? How did that happen?’ There’s something much bigger to it all that I can’t really explain.”

We asked Gibson to pick a few of his favorite posters and talk about the process and ideas behind them.

Darling at Sea, Anvil Chorus A (New Year’s Eve at the Brick)
“New Year’s Eve being such a big night, I wanted to shoot for an epic poster. I had an idea of the post-party: the contents of an insane partygoer’s stomach or the contents on the floor the morning of January 1. So, I set a rule for myself and just grabbed whatever I could at arm’s length around me at my studio desk. I threw it all on the scanner and created a sea of strange things swimming. The posters were printed in black on Wall Street Journals I saved from my day job, and I hit them up with a red heart rubber stamp. I’m pleased with the typography on these, especially for a computer font, which I’ve used very sparingly over the years.”

Violet Burning, the Billions, Gabriel Yard
“I was working as a janitor, wondering to myself about a unique, springlike concept for a poster for this show. I had been away from my cart cleaning something and came back to it and found plant clippings and prunings anonymously placed in it. I instantly saw this poster. I pushed my cart down to my little dungeon desk, decided to go on break, and started making the typography.”

Onward Crispin Glover, the People, Elevator Division
“At the time I made this image (2002), I was more aggressive about incorporating political-social messages into my work. It was my early 20s, and I guess it was the post-art-school political-poster-making in me talking? I think the news at the time had some major headlines about American importing and exporting. So, I have a backwards American monster eating a ship. The image was made in ink, and the boat was cut from a very old book. I ran this through an old fax machine to get the dirty look and then printed it on old green-and-white-striped computer paper. Notice this show was at the Pub, which is now the Brick. I always forget that. It’s interesting to see a bit of history in something as short-lived as a concert poster.”

Flattery Leads to Ruins, James Dean Trio, Roosevelt
“I had a ton of fun with this one in a pop-art kind of way, I guess. I also enjoy a chance to throw celebrities or notable people into art. I was literal with playing off the band names James Dean Trio and Roosevelt. But the other, Flattery Leads to Ruins, came out of the headlines at the time. Martha Stewart was on trial, and I would watch CNN every day while cleaning a lunch area at my day job. This is a great example of taking visual liberty with a batch of bands on a concert bill. With the printing I made black-and-white photocopies and then ran them back through an oversized printer to get the color.”

Atom and His Package, Brazil, Pixel Panda, Mail Order Midgets
“This is one of my personal favorites. I love a good visual pun, and I like to spin ideas off of band names. Here we have a guy named Atom carrying a package of Mail Order Midgets and a Pixel Panda (the panda is based from my childhood drawings of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles). The original art will be on display at my poster exhibition, and it’s fairly big compared to the small print the final poster ended up as. I’d love to revisit these characters; there’s a good road-trip story there. I’ve always had visions of being cursed or challenged to journey cross-country carrying specific heavy things in my arms along the way. I think about that with this poster. Poor Atom.”

Gibson’s entire catalog can be seen at gigposters.com/designer/95970_djg_design.