BY SHALEEN DESTEFANO
If you’ve ever questioned your choices when it comes to consumption, single-use plastics, or the desire for things in general, then you will want to keep reading. Kalliopi (Kapi) Monoyios creates art from discarded materials. Our center spread, entitled Landlines is a sculpture created from discarded telephone and stereo wires wrapped in Teflon tape. By rescuing these relicts of technology-gone-by and literally putting them back on a pedestal, Kapi begs us to ask questions about what we value and why.
Kapi also creates Molas (pictured above upper left). Traditional Molas are made by the Kuna women, an indigenous peoples from islands off the coast of Panama. Often depicting animals or geometric designs, they are made by stacking brightly colored pieces of fabric, and cutting holes in the top layers to reveal the colors below – a process known as reverse appliqué.
Pictured in the center is Gyre, a modular origami form made from single-use plastic packaging. Only 14% of the plastic used to make this sculpture is visible — most of it is folded up and tucked away, symbolizing how much plastic in our world escapes our notice.
Finally, Kapi is pictured in the upper right corner wearing an accessory she fashioned out of single-use plastic eye droppers.
We were lucky to be able to learn more about her process and future exhibitions.
You began as a science illustrator for the prominent paleontologist Neil Shubin at The University of Chicago. What can you tell us about the intersection of science and art?
People think art and science exist on opposite ends of a spectrum where art is “touchy-feely” and science is objective and cold. But they share more than you’d think. Both are deeply rooted in observation. Both are unrealized until the resulting discoveries are communicated to other humans. Both are fueled by the sincere hope that we can move forward, grow, and improve. What I did in Shubin’s lab was act as a visual science communicator — bridging the gap between the cutting edge, highly technical science being conducted in the lab, and all the different audiences Shubin wanted to engage: colleagues, undergraduates, graduate students, K-12 students, and the general public. Art was the major tool I used to connect to those differing audiences because it’s so versatile. It can be subtle or overt, detailed or gestural, direct or indirect, realistic or stylized.
Your latest work takes a deep dive into the subject of overconsumption and waste. Tell us how you came up with your Patterns of Consumption works.
It all started with a Denver compost bin! When we diverted compost out of our trash, I realized what was left was plastic packaging. I consider myself a careful consumer (I’ve been taking my own bags to the grocery store since the early 2000s) so it really surprised me. It made me wonder how much the average American discards in a year. So I began to explore just how much plastic touches our lives and the result was the body of work I call Patterns of Consumption.
My goal with Patterns of Consumption was to take a step back from the realm where most of us operate on a daily basis, where we deftly decode information thrown our way and sort messages into political bins before deciding whether we agree with them or not. Instead, I wanted to lead with wonder and awe to talk about this material (plastic) that in just 75 years has spread to every corner of the globe and infiltrated every part of our lives, regardless of where you live or how much money you have. Plastic is so much more than bags and straws. It is in clothing, housewares, toys, medical devices, vehicles and infrastructure. It coats our walls, transports our water, encases our food, fills our cavities, even prolongs our lives. And it’s not all bad. How many lives did PPE save us in the pandemic? How much lighter and fuel-efficient are vehicles with plastic parts? How grateful are we for waterproof materials?
That said, there are serious environmental ramifications that stem from all the plastic products we use. Plastic breaks down into smaller and smaller plastic, escaping into waterways and working its way into our bodies with unknown (but likely not-so-great) effects. But rather than drawing graphs and charts to illustrate the downsides of plastic use, I salvage wasted materials and reinvent them in surprising ways — I sew single-use plastic into colorful quilts, I make embroideries out of dental floss, I create clothes out of computer cords. By reminding people of human ingenuity and adaptability through my art, I hope to inspire people to tackle the problems the current generation of plastics poses while keeping the convenience and practicality it lends to modern life.
This leads us directly to your most recent work ‘The Weight of Our Possessions.’ Can you discuss the inspiration behind these pieces?
The Weight of Our Possessions is a series of wearable art made of things like computer cords, abandoned keys, and single-use plastic packaging. In each of these pieces, I use fashion to play up the tension between how our modern conveniences set us free versus how they burden us. You know the saying, “fashion is pain.” Well, so is consumption. It’s so dang convenient to get your coffee to go, but when you consider that Starbucks sells 4 million cups of coffee a day in mostly single-use containers, it’s enough to make anyone pause.
We love how your art beautifully highlights the amount of waste we produce. Is this a theme you will continue to pursue for future work?
For sure. One of the things I find most interesting is how hard it is for us to conceptualize change over time. That’s why looking at old photos is so engrossing. We see ourselves everyday in the mirror but can’t pick up on the cumulative changes of aging because they’re too slow for us to notice on the scale of days. Photos help us see those changes over decades. Likewise, our daily decisions share this same problem. It’s hard for us to envision how our individual choices add up over a lifetime, let alone if you multiply them by 8 billion people alive today. So some of the questions I’m interested in answering for all of us are, “Would a year of plastic packaging from one American cover a parking space or a football field?” “What does a gum chewing habit look like over a decade?” (Side note: chewing gum is chewable plastic! Now you know.) “How many disposable cups have you used in your life to date?” For me, this is a way to engage with our waste production in a way that is as mind-blowing and entertaining as it is serious.
Can you give us a glimpse into your studio? Do you prefer to work in the day? Is there music playing?
My studio is in my head and I cart it around all the time, building concepts and trying compositions for countless hours before actually hitting my workspace and making a physical thing. I work a lot in my bed in the quiet between 2 and 4am — lights off, just iterating on ideas and solving problems in my imagination. My actual workspace where I assemble those ideas is a lovely converted garage in Wash Park with skylights that make me infinitely happy, a lot of weird collections that only an artist could love (single-use plastic arranged by color, boxes of computer cords and keys, stupid amounts of dental floss) and plenty of failed experiments. I alternate singing really loud with my favorite divas and working in silence, listening to the neighborhood crows gossip around me.
What are your thoughts about the Colorado art scene and have you had opportunities to collaborate with other local artists?
The Colorado art scene is fantastic. I’ve barely scratched the surface but it’s so vibrant and exciting, open and welcoming. There are so many people doing really good work who care deeply about connecting. I’ve worked with many local artists as I’ve curated shows in Denver, Lakewood and Arvada, but I’ve yet to collaborate on any actual artwork. Totally open to it, though.
Where can we see your work?
In April, I’ll be displaying one of the wild wearable pieces of art I made at Off the Bottle Refill Shop on 13th and Grant (please confirm address). I call it “computer cord lace” and it could be described as an elegant piece of lingerie or a necklace with a really long train. It’s made from obsolete computer and smart phone cords/chargers collected from across Denver by Ridwell, a company that collects hard to recycle items from your porch (coupons for new Ridwell members are on my website). I made it as part of a fashion line I debuted at the Green is the New Black Fashion Extravaganza in Carbondale, CO in March.
Looking ahead, I’m preparing for a solo show at the Carbondale Arts Gallery for August – September. And I have much more on the horizon – hop onto my website, kalliopimonoyios.com, and join the mailing list if you’d like to hear about future openings and other opportunities to see my work.
What can we expect to see from you in the future?
Big things! Weird things! Things that make you go, hmmm…
You are truly an inspiration, Kapi. Thank you for sharing your art with us and creating a necessary dialogue around over consumption.