Remembering Kava

TASI original member D.J. Kava dies at age 73

D.J. Kava was an Art Studio original — literally. Kava was one of the group of artists who helped found the organization in 1983 on Beaumont’s Milam Street.

David Joseph Kava died June 19 after an illness. He was 73 years old.

Kava was around at the inception of The Art Studio, but was not a tenant.

“I would probably be considered the first apprentice,” he said in a 2009 ISSUE interview. “I helped mop the floor the second time in the first building. I missed mopping the floor the first time, but I mopped the floor the second time.”

An artist, meteorologist, U.S. Air Force veteran, writer, historian and self-proclaimed scavenger, Kava was a fixture at art openings and events. He exhibited widely and had solo shows at The Art Studio, Beaumont Art League, Art Museum of Southeast Texas and the Bolivar Peninsula Art Foundation, among others, with works that included photographs, drawings, mobiles and mixed media creations, many incorporating his signature ladders.

In an interview in advance of his 2009 TASI solo show, “Thirty Days in the Hole,” Kava spoke about how he adopted the ladder motif.

“Shortly after I retired I went out to Santa Fe with some friends of mine. They have all these adobe things with ladders,” he said. “I came back home and I thought, ‘Ladders, ladders.’

“I have climbed ladders since I was a kid, and ladders have scared the living daylights out of me. Even here, I fell off the roof one time when I stepped off and the ladder slipped out from under me.

“So I found a dictionary of symbols, and it had a long section on stairs and ladders. And all the references were positive — transformation, change, in some cultures chastity and purity. The Egyptians had a nine-step ladder in their hierarchy, but the 10th step was their invisible god. Ten became part of their numerology and came to mean the whole. By leaving the 10th step off, for the invisible god, it implied the god was always there.

“Nobody takes a ladder to hell,” he said. “You are cast into hell, but you climb up to heaven.”

Born March 9, 1946, in Oregon and reared in Minnesota, Kava spent 29 years as a meteorological technician for the Air Force, which he joined in 1964, for the Navy as a civilian, and for the National Weather Service.

He joked that he would go anywhere for a promotion and ended up in Beaumont — “Once again, serendipity,” he said.

Kava considered himself to be a recycler, finding objects that have potential and working with them until an idea presents itself. Not all of his creations ended up how he envisioned them, but Kava had a wry philosophical outlook.

For the Sound/Insight show I curated in 2017, Kava contributed a painted shower door. After filling out the paperwork in the office, he carried it outside to the gallery. Suddenly there was an almighty crash. Several of us rushed out to see what had happened to find D.J. standing, looking sheepish, next to a pile of shattered glass. He had tapped the frame against the wall and the piece broke. Or rather, it transformed. We decided to leave it exactly as it was and exhibited the piece as being the end of its artistic journey. Kava was rather unfazed by most things.

An accomplished car historian, he had been a member of the Society of Automotive Historians since 1973, specializing in Hudson motor cars. He was also a birder with more than 400 species on his record.

Kava said art has provided a good way of expressing himself.

“Originally, I couldn’t really express myself due to restrictions on my behavior as a federal worker,” he said. “Being an artist was a godsend for me to be able to get rid of that frustration.”

Kava was a regular contributor to the ISSUE’s Thoughtcrime section, as well as contributing book reviews.

With his ever-present Birkenstock sandals, D.J. Kava was an integral part of the history of The Studio, and he will be missed.

Story by Andy Coughlan, ISSUE editor