When you hear “tiki,” what comes to mind? Tropical drinks festooned with tiny paper umbrellas? Grass skirts and coconut bras? Exotica music? Ratan patio furniture? An outdoor bamboo bar? Asian food? Hawaiian shirts? Tiki torches?
This month at The Bunker, you can find out what comes to mind for local fine artist and muralist Colleen Gnos when she presents Idolatry, a collection of her tiki-inspired paintings.
“My intention with my art show Idolatry is to portray the cultural appropriation of Pacific Islander culture and how it morphed into California Polynesian pop, which, thanks to Don the Beachcomber in the 1930s, led to fancy tropical drinks and the romanticization of the ‘Indiana Jones’ type explorer who adventures into the depths of the jungle and collects/steals ‘tribal’ artifacts,” Gnos explained in an email interview conducted in February while she was an artist in residence at the Sam and Adele Golden Foundation for the Arts in New Berlin, New York.
The history of tiki culture is a long, strange trip. Invented by Donn Beach and Trader Vic (née Ernest Gantt), two white guys living in California in the 1930s, it essentially took Caribbean rum, Asian food, and Pacific Islands iconography and combined it into a kitschy faux tropical paradise.
Cultural appropriation is right. A Mori tiki is a religious idol that represents the first man created by God. American tiki culture made them into ceramic mugs to drink mai tais out of.
“Tiki is about escapism, a temporary reprieve from the daily grind, a connection to something greater, all to the soundtrack of Exotica: a genre of music created by greats such as Martin Denny and Les Baxter, which include vibraphone and bird calls in their songs,” Gnos explained. “The tradition is still carried on by bands such as Tikiyaki Orchestra, who have a cult following. These are songs that transport you to paradise.
“All of these elements help us dip our toes into the mysterious world of tiki.”
Following the end of Prohibition in 1933, tiki bars became an American mainstay that lasted for decades. By the 1960s, there were 25 Trader Vic’s and 16 Don the Beachcombers in operation. Tiki bars nearly disappeared by the 1990s, but thanks to the craft cocktail revolution of the 2000s and people’s renewed interest in the kitschy aesthetic of ’50s and ’60s tiki heyday, it returned as a robust subculture replete with multi-day festivals, such as San Diego’s annual Tiki Oasis. There’s even a website devoted to connecting tiki fans to events and venues: tikimap.com.
Gnos’ own interest in tiki was sparked at a young age.
“When I traveled to Hawaii at the age of 4, I was pulled up on every luau stage to dance the hula,” she recalled. “I was in the ocean every chance I could be. The Hawaiian people are the kindest, warmest people, especially to ‘keiki’ (children). I always wanted to return, and I eventually moved to Oahu for four years in my early 20s with my then boyfriend, now husband, Che Miller.”
Miller carves tiki heads, some of which will be on display at The Bunker. He’s also the frontman for the “beergrass” band The Mother Corn Shuckers, which includes Gnos on upright bass.
“When I was younger, watching The Brady Bunch reruns like ‘The Tiki Caves’ and Gilligan’s Island in my elementary school years brought that tiki excitement and mystique to a landlocked farm girl,” Gnos said.
One of her paintings on display features Greg, Peter, and Bobby Brady tied up in a scene from The Brady Bunch 1972, season 4, episode 3, “The Tiki Caves” with Vincent Price.
Another painting—Whatever happened to Don the Beachcomber?—features Godzilla and King Ghidorah stomping on a Don the Beachcomber restaurant and bar to smithereens.
“Along the way, California Polynesian pop culture has snagged cult heroes such as the Creature from the Black Lagoon, Godzilla, Frankenstein, and Betty Page and drawn inspiration from the [Enchanted] Tiki Room at Disneyland, various Pacific Island cultures, and of course, cannibalism,” Gnos added. “But for me, there’s something bigger at play here—it’s an attempt to connect with something I’ve lost along the way.
“As a society, I feel we’re always searching. I know it’s out there. There’s an angst, a sense of having lost something that needs to be found. Religion doesn’t do it for me. Buying lots of crap gives me a temporary reprieve. And drinking? That definitely helped, but after a couple hours, the pain and loss arrive quickly. So, I quit drinking over two years ago and did my best to shelf my addictive behaviors. What’s left? The self. Community. Stories. The spirit world. Art!
“That’s exactly what these ‘primitive’ cultures had all along: a sense of community, purpose, source energy involved in their rituals, whether it was the use of a tiki to connect to ancestors and the creator, or consuming San Pedro cactus to reach these ecstatic states as in the pre-Incan Chavin culture of Peru, or human cannibalism as a way to ‘right’ an out-of-balance world.
“As Westerners, I believe we have taken ‘tiki’ and have used it as a symbol to attempt this kind of connection.”
When you think “tiki,” what comes to mind now? Δ
Contact Arts Editor Glen Starkey at gstarkey@newtimesslo.com.
This article appears in Weddings 2025.
