One glance at the bikes Drust Cycles brought to Bespoked is all it takes for your attention to be wholly and irredeemably arrested.

These machines look wild. Like if Mad Max took place in world without gasoline. You’ might be reminded of the jalopy driven by the Joad Family in their migration west, or the bolted-together boats and jet skis in the unfairly-maligned box office mega-flop, Waterworld with Kevin Costner.

Founder and builder, Konstantin Drust, spoke to Brooks at Bespoked in Dresden to share his view on the craft, the question of whether bikes count as art, and why Bespoked is the best place for builders like him.

Why Bespoked?

Bespoked offers us, as frame builders and small businesses, a great opportunity to showcase our work to interested people, gain media coverage and make valuable connections. 

Unlike other bike fairs, I appreciate that visitors come specifically to see custom and handmade bicycles. The crowd is very engaged and genuinely interested in the craft I work in. Some people stop by just to share kind words or compliments about our work, which always feels flattering and rewarding. I wouldn’t know of another show where I can present my brand the way I can here.

Why bikes? And more importantly, why frame building?

The bicycle is the one truly lasting relationship in my life, I can’t imagine anything that could drive us apart. I love everything about it: as an object, a machine, a tool for commuting, transportation, sport, and as my happy place. Some of my best memories happened on a bike or during bike tours.

For a while, I worked as a messenger, I literally lived off my bike. I’ve worked as a mechanic, and now I build bicycle frames. Building bicycles is like an addiction: ever since I finished my first frame, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the next one. In the beginning, I couldn’t sleep out of excitement, constantly thinking about how to continue or solve new challenges. Now, years later, I can sleep again but the addiction is still there. I can’t imagine doing anything else in my life unless I were forced to by unfortunate circumstances.

What’s the first frame you ever built, and where is it today? Is it still being ridden?

The very first frame I ever built was a prototype for a stock model at Big Forest Frameworks in Potsdam. Years later, when I was no longer working there, I met someone riding that very frame. Just this year, I found out that this person is the partner of a friend of a friend of mine. The bike is still loved and used daily.

When you’re designing a frame, are you thinking as an engineer, designer, or artist?

First of all, I see myself as a craftsperson. When people ask what I do, I usually say that I have a workshop and work with metal. The hands-on work, brazing, machining and so on, is the most important part of my identity as a frame builder. If I had built a greater relationship to sitting than to cycling in my life, I would probably still be a craftsperson. But making chairs.

Of course, there’s some design and maybe a bit of engineering involved in building bicycle frames. But I don’t really see myself as an artist, probably because I don’t even know what exactly makes something ‘art’ and what doesn’t. And I have the feeling nobody does.

What’s a moment you nearly gave up on a project?

I’ve taken on some challenging jobs for sure, but I think the only thing that could actually make me give up on a project would be working with a client I have a particularly bad vibe with.

Whose Instagram/TikTok/other media do you follow that feeds inspiration?

I think ideas and inspiration can come from anywhere. From well-known builders or passionate hobbyists alike. The most influential builder for me has probably been James of Black Sheep. He proves that you don’t need to build for the masses to create great bicycle frames.

What does it feel like seeing your bikes being ridden in the wild?

Honestly, I get a bit jealous. But in a good way. I’m happy for the people out there riding their bikes. It’s not always easy building bikes for people who then go off cycling around the world, doing what I used to love the most before I started my workshop. Meanwhile, I stay home and build more bikes for more people to ride.

When I became a frame builder, I somehow shifted from being a cycling person to being a bicycle person. Before, it was the other way around. Of course, I’m proud that something I made means so much to my clients and brings them so much joy. Some even send me pictures when they reach special destinations – and I think that’s really sweet.

If we catch you here again next year, what do you hope you’ll be showing?

For quite some time, I’ve been obsessed with a very early French semi-recumbent bike, and I hope to build a modern version of it one day. It didn’t work out for this year’s show, but maybe it will for next year.

Brooks extends a special thanks to John Watson of the Radavist for the images used in this article.