Pop Goes The Gallery -- At Vox Populi, The Funky Visuals Come With Built-In Soundtrack

"It probably should be said," smiles Grant Alden, "that I don't know a thing about running an art gallery. So at least I have no preconceptions. This is much closer to a retail space than most galleries."

"This" is Vox Populi (literally, "voice of the people"), the year-and-a-half-old Pike Street gallery Alden runs with partner Carl Carlson. Over its door is emblazoned their motto: "Food Rots, Buy Art."

Although not all its wares are pop-related, Vox Populi is known as a "rock art" gallery. It exhibits and sells posters, record sleeve art, and related cultural artifacts. The latter can range from comic-art to hand-painted trays, photographs of pop stars to chainsaw sculptures.

All have something in common: a do-it-yourself aesthetic. It can be inherent in the music portrayed, in the style or humor the work displays, or the artist's formal naivete. (Vox Populi stocks work by several folk artists.) In all events, the ethic comes naturally, for the Vox Populi enterprise sprang from punk.

This involves the earlier careers of both Carlson and Alden and their close and continuing ties to music. But, in another sense, their gallery carries on a slice of West Coast culture.

Punk-era precedents

This began with the 1970s rise of "West Coast punk": Los Angeles and San Francisco-based bands like the Nerves, Zippers, Weirdos, Screamers, Dickies, Bags, Circle Jerks, Germs, Plugz, Nuns, Fear, Black Flag and X. Many of these bands and their followers were art students or aspiring artists. This music's emergence - and its sometime tours - inspired one of Vox Populi's predecessors.

This was a gallery called Rosco Louie (in Northwest car culture, slang for the directions "right" and "left"). Housed in Pioneer Square from April 1978 to 1982, it was founded by Larry Reid, then just graduated from Central Washington University. Rosco Louie became famous for giving pop and the art around it equal time.

Reid encouraged a number of pop culture's trailblazers. He mounted first exhibits by Gary Panter (subsequently the designer of TV's "PeeWee's Playhouse"), RAW's Art Spiegelman (creator of critically acclaimed "Maus" books), Charles Burns (who did the gallery posters), Matt "The Simpsons" Groening and cartoonist Lynda Barry. He was equally involved with offbeat New York culture, showcasing bands such as DNA and the Raybeats and photographers like Robert Mapplethorpe. Rosco Louie survived by selling rock ephemera - plus the price of admission to live concerts.

It was a movement that spanned the whole West Coast. Much of it emanated from Los Angeles, natural home of pop art in the form of flamboyant "Googie" architecture, elaborate tattoo art and hot-rod culture. There, "outsider" artists like Panter, Lou Beach and Bob Zoell, Cynthia Marsh and Mike Fink showed their paintings at SHOA, also known as "Steve's House of Art." The Steve in question was entrepreneur Steve Samiof, who worked with Slash Records and Stuff, a free publication that consisted of ads.

After the punks gained fame, it came to custom-car and biker artists - such as Ed "Big Daddy" Roth and Robert Williams. Given the growing number of rock-related artists, galleries sprang up in order to capitalize; in L.A., there were Zero One, La Luz de Jesus and L'Imagerie. Each had a different balance - yet all their visuals came with a soundtrack. And it was far removed from that of the West Coast '60s.

Pre-grunge pop art

In 1982, Reid closed his doors for a year, then started another downtown gallery, Graven Image. This time his focus was "primarily music." He no longer needed to import the punks: "There were all these proto-grunge bands happening." Now, the concerts were by Jodie Foster's Army, Room Nine (later to provide the core of Love Battery) and the U-Men. Many of the bands used Reid's gallery basement for practice.

Neither the groups nor their art got much attention at home. But hip newcomers noticed right away. Cartoonist Peter Bagge, famous for his comic "Hate," moved from New York to Seattle in 1984. He left behind a boom in funky art-spots, spaces like the Fun Gallery, which housed stars such as Keith Haring, Kenny Scharf and Jean-Michel Basquiat.

Says Bagge, "When I came, Robert Newman was editor at The Rocket. But he was going off to join the Village Voice. I was telling him, `You'll go nuts, Bob - in New York, there are galleries showing rock art.' He said, `Hey, Pete, we've had that for years.' "

Bagge views Seattle's acceptance of "rock art" skeptically. "It was largely Reid's enthusiasm implanting this whole aesthetic, because, mostly, he influenced younger people. His galleries sponsored a series of concerts where, on video, you see later movers and shakers bopping their heads - people like Grant Alden, or Bruce Pavitt (founder of Sub Pop Records) and Kurt Cobain."

Rooted in real music

Grant Alden's view of rock art came right from the concert floor. He spent seven years and two months at The Rocket, which he initially joined as a typographer. Within two years, he was made managing editor. But when Alden got restless, he thought of starting a gallery.

A "series of accidents" gave him that idea. He was already buying and collecting folk art. And he always valued The Rocket's best photographers. Then, Alden interviewed eminent singer-songwriter Mark Lanegan. "I turned the tape off and we just kept on talking. I was telling him how I collected folk stuff, and he said, `It's all punk rock, isn't it?' "

Lanegan's view - the ethic of Rosco Louie - struck Alden as a sort of revelation. "It made connections for me. I realized I'm drawn to self-taught people who are compelled to make work. Sometimes it's visual, sometimes it's musical."

At the same time, the city council banned posting flyers on city-owned utility poles. This had provided the punk movement's personal grapevine. Alden covered two protests mounted by the music community: exhibits of flyers and concert posters by artist Frank Kozik. "It made me understand two things," he says. "One, these artifacts were a vital art form, yet they didn't get any kind of respect. Two, the Pike-Pine area was exploding. And it would be a good place to start any business."

Spurred by these realizations, Alden conceived Vox Populi, quit his job and opened the gallery two months later. In the midst of renovating the actual building, he met Carl Carlson - who became his partner.

Carlson grew up in Eastern Washington and studied fine art and advertising at Washington State. By the time Alden met him, he had a record label, Top Drawer Records, a joint enterprise run with Ean Hernandez of the band Sicko. In fact, when Carlson proposed himself as a partner, he offered Alden the vocalist as a reference. Says Alden, "I had a cursory talk with Ean, then went over to Carl's. We had some beers and some brie and I said, `Why not?' "

The gallery opened on May 5, 1994. From the beginning, it was a smash with hipsters, selling art to many who had never thought of buying it. But, then, many of the prices are inexpensive; some of the rock posters start at $10. "Our clientele is young and random," says Carlson. "Often, their payments are done on layaway."

Some Vox Populi stock is consistent - posters by artists from Pablo to Frank Kozik; folk art by the likes of Reverend Howard Finster (well-known in pop circles for his Talking Heads sleeve); and a trio of well known Seattle photographers: Alice Wheeler, Lance Mercer and Charles Peterson. Individual shows vary, from graphic guerrilla Pablo to illustrator Ed Fotheringham to poster artist Chris "Coop" Cooper. Few shows are theme events (although cartoonists united for a Hands Off! Washington benefit, women drew women for "Chick Art" and there has been a juried "Northwest Noir").

More typical is a show like last month's joint exhibit, work by Owen Connell (an artist/tattoist) and Dale Flattum (artist and member of the band Steel Pole Bathtub). As with all Vox Populi shows, its opening was a beer-and-punk fashion fiesta. (All the openings are by invitation-only.) "We connect," says Alden, "to that music, cult and tattoo culture. But the people who buy our art see it as art."

So they should, says cartoonist Peter Bagge. "Galleries make money selling work by Robert Williams. But in establishment eyes, he grabs the wrong people. Teenage boys see his stuff and go, `Hey, bitchin'!' For a critic, that triggers, `I went to school to learn this. If you like it, it can't be any good.' "

Even Bagge, however, has nagging doubts. "They'll have a really great Coop poster for Nirvana. Which is great work of art - and that's why it's there. But some people buy it just 'cause it says Nirvana."

Interactive art

One thing that heartened both Alden and Carlson is their recent foray onto the World Wide Web portion of the Internet. Jason Daniels, who managed a frame shop used by the gallery, got tired of Alden's self-confessed Luddite views. After some lengthy arguments over technology, Daniels offered to build the partners a Web page. Now, they can sell to rock fans around the world.

Says Alden, "Jason wanted to prove me wrong. And he did; last night, I got a $500 order." Ironically, neither he nor Carlson can view the site. Their expanding fame must be grasped - like their orders - by e-mail.

Meanwhile, Alden ranges far afield as critic and editor. And Carlson runs Top Drawer from the gallery's back room. But, because they value the face of music, one vibrant chapter of Seattle culture continues.

--------------- Gallery details ---------------

Vox Populi is at 705A E. Pike St., Seattle 98122. Telephone: 329-8388. Hours: noon to 5 p.m. Wednesday to Sun. World Wide Web address: http://nwlink.com/jasond/vp.html