Sawed-Off, Double-Barreled Sculpting Gun Gallery Owner Finds A Creative Use For Firearms Confiscated By Police

The guns were used to rob people, to kill people and to deal drugs.

Many are sawed-off shotguns. Others are assault weapons such as AK-47s. Police grabbed some as evidence in crimes and took others because they were illegal. Some guns snagged for safekeeping never were claimed by their owners.

Now, after being disabled, these guns are the stuff of sculptures and furniture.

“I’m not here to judge anything,” artist Rob Johnson said. “I’m not making any social statement or political statement. I’m just recycling.”

His BB Gallery, 208 W. Sprague, is stark. There aren’t many sculptures. The ones there are high-caliber. Guns shaped into a cross hang on the wall, near three handguns tilted in different directions. There’s a table featuring guns. There’s a straight-line sculpture of long guns welded next to short guns.

The gallery’s not for crafts or wimps. It’s for men. Macho men.

“I’ve had people come in and be totally aghast,” said Johnson, sporting a black “Fear No Art” T-shirt. “That negative vibe, I don’t need in my space.”

His space oozes testosterone, save the silk scarf hanging from a sculpture by another artist. Johnson also shows photographs, portraits, paintings and a piece of three-dimensional work by other artists.

When Johnson works, he first designs the sculptures or furniture. Then, he welds the guns together, in different shapes. He doesn’t twist the guns or make them unrecognizable. They look like guns. Finally, Johnson sandblasts the work.

He’s not creating much art now. Instead, Johnson said, he’s focusing his creative energy on marketing his creations.

In a back room, Johnson keeps his supplies: a pile of sawed-off shotguns and other pieces of guns from the Police Department. He held up a sawed-off double barrel from a shotgun.

“If this was attached to a gun and used, it would be very, very dangerous,” Johnson said.

There’s little chance of that. Any would-be criminal would save time by starting from scratch.

Before Johnson gets his guns, they’re sent to the Spokane Police Academy to be disabled. Sgt. Maynard Gillespie, who runs the firearms program for the Spokane Police Department, renders useless dozens of guns about every six months after they build up in the police property room.

Gillespie grabs a sawhorse and a cutting torch and goes to work, behind the shooting range at the academy. He burns holes into the bolts and through the chambers. He destroys the magazines.

“It’s a piece of junk,” Gillespie said. “Then it’s given to him,” he said, nudging Johnson.

Gillespie said he was skeptical when Johnson first asked for the department’s guns.

“To be honest, I thought: ‘What is this guy? A nut? Who’s going to buy art made of guns?”’ Gillespie said.

People with a lot of money. It’s expensive. Sculptures cost more than furniture. A gun chair costs $4,000. The gun cross, called “Hunter’s Cross,” runs $12,000.

After Gillespie saw pictures of Johnson’s art, he decided anything was worth a try. The Police Department used to be able to sell long guns and assault weapons through an auction. Now a city ordinance forbids that.

Giving the guns to Johnson was better than cutting the weapons into tiny pieces and throwing them into the garbage, Gillespie said.

The Police Department and trauma centers in Spokane eventually might even see some money from the gun art. Johnson said he plans to donate at least 10 percent of sale proceeds.

“If the money is returned back to the community, then some good comes from the illegal firearms,” Gillespie said.

Would-be customers at the BB Gallery must make appointments. Johnson sees about 15 to 20 customers a month, and sells maybe one or two pieces a month. Some of his work is shown in Seattle. He recently displayed his work at a gun show there. One of Johnson’s chairs is entered in an invitation-only international furniture contest in Portland this month.

“I don’t rely on street traffic,” Johnson said. “This isn’t NorthTown. I don’t rely on people coming in off the street and buying a $12,000 sculpture.”

Gillespie is skeptical, even after seeing a chair made by Johnson. It’s made of a sheet of metal and four guns, welded together. It looks uncomfortable. It costs $4,000.

“I’m sorry, but it’s still a piece of junk,” Gillespie said, slapping Johnson on the shoulder. “I’m no artist.”

, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Color Photo