Drust Cycles, crafted in Berlin

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.

“The bicycle is the one truly lasting relationship in my life, I can’t imagine anything that could drive us apart.”

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.

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Why bikes? And more importantly, why frame building?

Although they spent weeks beforehand, riding through Tajikistan, staying with nomadic Kyrgyz people, the Wakhan corridor was “the main mission” of this trip. On arriving there, Theo, Olf, Ruben and Alex experienced another transformation, one that threw their best-laid plans out the window. 
 
“Once we began in the Wakhan, it was really slow. Our timetable was completely impossible,” says Olf. 
 
“The roads were really bad: big rocks, sandy. Some sections where you just have to pull your bike,” adds Blindow.
 
“And then some days, the headwind was so strong that you can’t move. That was the flat parts. Once it started to get hilly, there were days where we had to make every step in two parts. First we’d carry the bike, then come back and collect the luggage.”

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.

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