By Michelle Tea

POP-CULTURE POTPOURRI: Doug Domankos, curator and proprietor of
National Product, shows off local artisanal gold. Photo by Lori Spears

National Product set up shop two years ago, and since then, it's had 24 art openings featuring the work of local printmakers, comic artists, and painters. When I show up to snoop around, the back gallery is hung with the work of Brian McDonald, whose collages feature drawings of people who look both childlike and crazed. Like the store itself, McDonald's work is a festive mess of pop culture images with a dark undertone.

"I call it an art gallery and a gift shop," Domankos says of his jumbled domain. "My background is graphic design, so I know a lot of illustrators and creative types who have day jobs but do creative work on the side. I wanted to have a retail entity that made some of the more obscure stuff available."

Expecting the gift shop to financially carry the art shows, Domankos has been surprised to find that the art sells just as well as the goods in the front room. "The gallery side was a real surprise for me," he says. "It has exceeded my expectations in sales. The opening parties have been very successful." During the openings, National Product expands. Domankos, who lives in the space behind the shop, opens his living quarters to the public, setting up snacks in his living room and drinks in his kitchen.

I wander over to a cluster of ribbed white undershirts. They are wilting, with the logos of various designers scrawled halfheartedly across the fabric. "Those are Sharpie-markered designer shirts," Domankos says with a smile. "And they are secondhand and complete with stains. The artist wants to be anonymous since he's making designer knockoffs." The undershirts cost $7. "I already sold the Calvin Klein and the Dior."

"There is a certain theme of pop culture and lightheartedness that I look for in the stuff I carry," Domankos explains. "Things with humorous political messages work well. And usually the art shows have some of the same themes as the merchandise in the store."

Against one wall is a stack of T-shirts illustrated with scrawly pencil drawings of cats in various costumes. "That's my friend Rachel," Domankos says. "She calls herself Little Pants Industries." He shuffles through the designs. "There's the Dracula kitty, the NASA kitty. This one she calls the gay mustache kitty." More T-shirts in other piles depict stuff like cigarette-smoking ponies, the classic gun-wielding image of Patty Hearst with the slogan "American Badass," a gas can printed with the American flag and, in elegant script, the proclamation "Sodomy: The New American Tradition." Some of these are National Product designs, created by Domankos. He shows me a sort of '70s, sunset-colored cityscape tee. "That's my imaginary strip-mall store," he jokes. Another shirt bears a stylized image of the iconic Beck's Motor Lodge, located right up the street. A third shows a dude at a computer with the words "White Collar Crime." "This is a best-seller," Domankos says.

I'm drawn over to a basket filled with hand-knitted fingerless gloves. They come in all colors, with little stripes and other decorative touches. "They're crocheted by my Aunt Alice in Toledo," Domankos says. He produces a little label with Aunt Alice's picture on it. "She is nonstop with the knitting," he says. "She sells great beanies too and little scarves." He shakes an adorable little scarf at me. "Her stuff sells really well."

The store was formerly open five days a week, but Domankos has had to cut the hours to Friday through Sunday. "I hope to get back up to a full schedule," he says. "Maybe the neighborhood will get a little more momentum too." He cites the recent construction on that stretch of Market Street as a factor negatively affecting neighborhood businesses. "The foot traffic, now that the construction is over, might come back."

Much of the stuff for sale at National Product isn't available anywhere else. Silk-screened prints from local artists working in comics, throw pillows printed with pictures of deer, Karoi Kasai's stuffed space dolls wearing hot pink-felt fanny packs, LiberaChe T-shirts – this isn't merchandise one can find in a mall or other soulless shopping center. National Product has more in common with the craft fairs found in rural areas than with your average retail joint.