Des Moines-based storyteller Kristian Day has made a name for himself in the world of media production. His bonafides include creating The Last American Gay Bar, a 2024 docuseries for OUTtv covering The Blazing Saddle in Des Moines, and hosting the show Iowa Basement Tapes on KFMG radio, which aims to preserve local DIY music of all stripes. He also produced two true crime documentary projects that premiered last year: the Amazon Prime film Chiefsaholic about a bank-robbing Kansas City Chiefs superfan (nominated for a Sports Emmy) and the HBO Max miniseries Taken Together: Who Killed Lyric and Elizabeth? covering one of eastern Iowa’s most haunting cold cases.
Whether it’s directing, producing or contributing soundscapes to the local noise scene, Day pursues it with curiosity. His appealing mix of skills makes him a go-to for national production companies in need of a producer, locations manager, composer, cinematographer or some other production role.
How do you identify yourself when asked what you do as an artist?
That’s a hard one. By trade, I’m a filmmaker, but I write a monthly column for a magazine in Des Moines and freelance for other publications, including documentary magazines and trade journals. I do other creative writing projects, such as for NBC, some children’s content. [Chuckles] My demographic was for 11-year-old girls. Who knew? I have nieces, and I like writing for kids.
My film work has evolved from purely creative to now being deeply involved in the film industry, both the business and the creative sides. I feel that the film industry is not just about creating — I wish it was — but I spend more time on the phone and hustling, probably up to 90 percent, with 10 percent actually moviemaking. It’s a hard industry to be an artist in.
What kept you in Iowa?
I’m from the Quad Cities, moved to Cedar Rapids where I graduated from high school, then went to college in Colorado. I was freelancing in film by that time. I returned here, when the tax incentive made Iowa a production destination. I realized that I don’t need to be in L.A. Even when the tax incentives went away, I chose to stay in Iowa. The majority of the work I do is outside the state. I want to be somewhere I’m comfortable, and I’m comfortable here. They say that one of the greatest motivators is to be uncomfortable, but I don’t want to be miserable for the rest of my life. [Laughs]
Share a couple of your defining projects.
There’s a handful of people in the industry that know me for documentary, like Chiefsaholic, Taken Together and Queen of Meth [2021, filmed in Ottumwa]. Some know me for showrunning, such as Last America Gay Bar. There’s not a lot of crossover; you’re either a filmworker or a creator. I’ve been able to work in both worlds.
When Variety ran a piece on Chiefsaholic, people I’ve worked with before saw my name and asked, “How does a crew guy do both of those things?” I don’t ever want to be stagnant. This last year was crazy because I had three major projects come out: Taken Together was about the two girls from Evansdale, Iowa, that were taken; The Last American Gay Bar premiered; and Chiefsaholic. That will likely never happen again. It was both exciting and oh, boy, what do I do?
What fuels your creative fire?
I obviously enjoy telling stories. There are people who have inspired me to pursue my writing more. I love telling stories about things I am absolutely interested in. I’ve had this career that is 100 percent in everything I love, whether it be film, writing or music. My company, Daylight Pictures, has evolved. I feel that this last year and a half has been a great turning point where my business partners and I are shifting into larger projects. We are very self-contained, so we can eliminate a lot of the red tape when working with outside influences. I’ll always continue to support [outside] projects that are coming through, and continue to support and nurture the next group of up-and-comers in this industry.
I have a love of subculture and counterculture. That’s apparent with the columns I write, the radio program I produce and even the stories I want to tell. The Last American Gay Bar interested me the most because there was this secret history of Des Moines that I didn’t know about, in a very punk-rock fashion. When we started that project, some of my cast were, “Please do not paint us as victims,” and we didn’t. It was 100 percent. … That’s the stuff that interests me the most.
This article was originally published in Little Village’s November 2025 issue.
