The visceral intellectuals
Raymond Pettibon’s illustrated world, where comic book mobsters meet punk rock literati head on, has come for many to embody the visual aesthetic of the No Wave movement. His loose, tumbling ink and paint drawings have adorned everything from the covers of Sonic Youth albums, and the photocopied pages of a decade’s worth of zines, to the walls of the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles. To some he’s the ultimate outsider, painting and drawing the awkward underside of Los Angeles as the illustrator’s answer to Charles Bukowksi. To others he’s the godfather of disobedient art, the one who opened the doors for the Barry McGees and Ed Templetons of the world, moving art from the streets and basements to gallery walls. Still others would criticize him as a half-assed scenester, capitalizing on his famous friends and acquaintances.
Hans Weigand’s perception of contemporary culture, however, extends well beyond the canvas. With works like "Johnny Cotton," Weigand turns the aesthetic language of mid-century science fiction and the murmur of everyday politics into a contextually manic mix of video, photography and sculpture. Unlike Pettibon, Weigand’s work is crisp, purposeful and direct. But like Pettibon, he creates a world that forces the viewers to analyze not only the cycles of information they receive, but their role in its conveyance.
