Lowbrow wave on a highbrow shore

Then there's the art itself. Called lowbrow art, it's figurative, poppy, a little bit goth.

"For me, the more twisted it is, the better," says Ami Bennitt, the rock promoter-turned-theater publicist who opened Space 242 in the 2,000-square-foot lobby of the Weekly Dig in early 2008. It's two blocks from the galleries at 450 Harrison Ave., but aesthetically, it's a world away.

Space 242 is one of the first commercial galleries in Boston to show lowbrow art, a West Coast wave that's lapping at Boston's shores. Boston is, in many ways, a highbrow city, so lowbrow art has been a long time coming.

The style was born of hot-rod culture in Los Angeles in the 1950s and coalesced in the 1990s around Juxtapoz magazine. It encompasses underground comics, graffiti, tattoo art, rock posters, album covers, and art springing from the cultures of skateboarding and surfing. It's also been called urban art and pop surrealism - and it's designed to be accessible to anyone.

"To say there are dozens of lowbrow art galleries in California would be an understatement," says Caleb Neelon, a Cambridge artist and writer who had a show of such art in April in San Francisco and has written for Juxtapoz.

"California is its spiritual home," Neelon says of the movement. "The market, and the people in California, are more forward thinking than on the East Coast, and certainly in Boston." Trying to talk with Bostonians about lowbrow art, a frustrated Neelon adds, "is like talking to my parents."

At Space 242, the lowbrow art is full of stories, dark humor, and bold imagery. Drawings by Joe Keinberger, painted collages by Michael Lehman, and sculptures by Matthew Towler spurn art theory and, at their best, can grab you by the throat.

Keinberger's drawings feature children, monsters, and tree stumps coming awkwardly to life; he cites Edward Gorey as an influence. Lehman's paintings feature such icons as Superman, Mickey Mouse (here called "Ickey Mouse"), and the grim reaper. Towler has altered dolls in bleak and disturbing ways.

"It's not about shocking people; if it was, I'd just throw porn on the wall and call it a day," says Space 242's Bennitt, who's dressed all in black, with dark-rimmed glasses and a mane of dark curls. "It's based in illustration and animation, and often fantasy. It's about being a smart aleck."

Those attending the opening appreciated the art's nerve and the gallery's welcoming atmosphere.

"On Newbury Street, it's more professional and polished," observed Sarah Richardson, 27, an animator. "Here it's more gritty, more political."

About 200 people had RSVP'd online to come to the opening, and the place was packed. Bennitt stages her receptions on the final Friday of each month, distinguishing them from the First Friday bash at 450 Harrison Ave. The talk is different than at most gallery openings.

"There's not a lot of conversation about, 'He uses this kind of line,' " Bennitt says. "It's not art talk."

"I'm not a gallery person," acknowledges Matt Whiton, 27, a theater production manager who came to see the art. "This is the one gallery I go to where I'm not out of my element. There is nothing that would make people not fit in."

Bennitt got into the lowbrow scene via rock. Nate Albert, late of the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, and Mikey Welsh, formerly of Weezer, are visual artists as well. Bennitt liked their work and started mounting exhibitions at the Paradise Lounge. When that venue was sold last year, Bennitt met with the Weekly Dig, the Paradise's media sponsor, and proposed staging shows in the newspaper's lobby.

Architect Marc Gabriel, a lowbrow art collector, has bought several works at Space 242, including two paintings by Keinberger. He grew up in California and moved to Boston in 2000.

"It's somewhat humorous, and not necessarily fine art, but a kind of art that really speaks to my generation," says Gabriel, 36. "It's not something everyone would put in their living room. But look at the details of some of these artists: There's a main theme, offshoot themes. They tell little stories. There are a lot of pop culture references. You may get the joke, you may not. In some cases, it makes you think."

To be sure, we've seen lowbrow art in Boston before. Shepard Fairey, whose art is graphic, bold, and easily digestible, has a wildly popular show up at the Institute of Contemporary Art now, but his work has been visible on local streets for many years. The ICA also mounted a daring exhibit, "CUSTOMIZED: Art Inspired by Hot Rods, Low Riders and American Car Culture," in 2000. Barry McGee, whose art has roots in graffiti, had an exhibit at the Rose Art Museum at Brandeis University in 2004. The Boston Center for the Arts' Mills Gallery, Montserrat Gallery at Montserrat College of Art, and New Art Center in Newton have each spotlighted street artists in recent years. And lowbrow art has popped up at local alternative galleries in the past.

The area's commercial galleries, though, have been slow to pick up on lowbrow art. Rhys Gallery and Gallery Katz, both firmly rooted in fine art, dabbled in it. Gallery Katz has closed; Rhys has moved to Los Angeles. Commercial galleries in the region tend to tap artists who make work that speaks to critics and curators, that is often engaged with art history and theory, but that can be off-putting to people outside the art world.

Lowbrow artists may have gone to art school, but they focus on technique more than theory. Keinberger put in time at Massachusetts College of Art and Design and has a day job at a sign shop. Lehman studied art at Syracuse University, is a graphic designer, and sidelines with a rock band called the Tampoffs.

"Most of these artists have one foot in illustration, graphic design, tattooing, or applied arts and one leg in the fine-art world," says Leonie Bradbury, gallery director at Montserrat College of Art. She organized "Electric Wasteland: Urban Art from L.A." at the Montserrat Gallery in 2007.

In California, the successful lowbrow artists, such as Fairey or Jeff Soto, create not only unique art to sell in galleries but print editions, stickers, and other collectibles, making their work available to just about anyone.

"It's an idealistic point of view," Bradbury says. "They want their work to be affordable. A lot of the art world is out of reach for the average person. People who are part of this movement don't want to become elitist."

Prices at Space 242 start with the $20 limited-edition show poster, then range anywhere from $40 to $3,200.

Bennitt has big dreams. "I want for these artists to make a living. I want to be the Boston location for the California circuit. I want people who are not art buyers to become art buyers," she says, ticking off aspirations.

"I want to make participating with art cool," she adds. "I want Boston to embrace twisted art."