“How did Christian art go from Rembrandt to Kinkade?” I asked, knowing full well any criticism of Thomas Kinkade, the self-proclaimed (and trademarked) Painter of Light™, would lead to howls of protest. Kinkade is, as his website proclaims, “America’s most collected living artist.” He has sold over ten million works and his art or licensed product, which includes wallpaper, tableware, stationary, and La-Z-Boy chairs and sofas, is estimated to be in one in ten homes in the U.S. He has even “inspired” a novel (Cape Light), a TV-movie (“Home for Christmas”) and planned communities (“The Gates of Coeur d’Alene” in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, “The Village at Hiddenbrooke,” outside of San Francisco, et al.). His admirers are legion, especially among evangelical Christians.
“Suppose you had never heard of Kincaid and you saw one of his paintings in a respectable art gallery,” responded my friend Steve. “Suppose you found out that Kincaid cut off his ear and died a long time ago without any money. Can you say with certainty that your opinion of his aesthetics would be the same?”
The interesting assumption behind my friends question is that the reason that Kinkade’s paintings are critically reviled is because the painter is rich, popular, and out of favor with the New York art world cognoscenti.
No doubt many people who would praise a rich, popular, establishment-approved hack like Andy Warhol despise Kinkade for being a rich, popular, evangelical-approved hack. But I think a solid case against Kinkade can be made on purely aesthetic criteria, especially when you compare his work to a superior artist.
Consider two works of on similar themes. Both are images of the Water Tower in Chicago. Both have similar elements—a carriage, trees, people with umbrellas. Indeed, paintings are almost identical in theme and content, if not in style.
And yet the first is unquestionably technically superior. The use of texture and shadow puts the viewer within the picture. You can almost feel the cold Chicago air and hear the sounds of the serene yet bustling city.
The second painting, however, distances the viewer from the scene. Light is overused (notice the light coming from every window and the background lights that resemble a brushfire), presenting a faux golden glow that is unrealistic and dull. And the carriage, though more sharply drawn than in the first painting, is two-dimensional and distracting. While the first work is worthy of gracing a museum wall, the second is only worthy of garnishing a cheap greeting card.
As you could probably guess, the second painting is by Thomas Kinkade, circa 2004.
But what about the first painting, the more aesthetically superior rendition of the Water Tower? It too is by Thomas Kinkade; he painted it in 1998.
This is what is so distressing about Thomas Kinkade: He is both a creator of some of the most inspiring paintings of the past two decades and a producer of some of the worst schlock ever manufactured by a talented artist.
Both the harshest critics and the keenest admirers of Kinkade’s work, however, tend to be unfamiliar with his more meritable paintings. But it is his oft-overlooked cityscapes and early mountain scenes that truly reveal his keen eye, technical brilliance, and aesthetic sensitivity. Take, for example, his use of various shades of red in “San Francisco, 1909.”
Or his subtle use of white light, reminiscent of the Hudson River School, in his depiction of the Yukon town of “Dawson.”
Kinkade is at his best when he captures the human side of cities, such as in “New York, Central Park at Sixth Avenue.”
But just as a baker can ruin a supurb dessert by adding too much sugar, Kinkade can lose the sense of a place by attempting to romanticize a scene. His “San Francisco, Late Afternoon at Union Square” perfectly captures the mood of a city street after a rain.
Yet three years later, painting the almost exact same scene, he clogs it with color until it loses the magic of his previous work.
The first street scene was painted to capture a very specific place, San Francisco; the second scene was painted to capture a very different place, the consumer’s living room wall.
But Kinkade is best known for his cottage and nature scenes, so it is there that the bulk of critical attention must be placed.
It was nine paintings into his oeuvre that he attempted his first cottage scene. “The Blue Cottage” differs from much of the later variations on the theme because of its simplicity in its use of light and color.
But it also contains something missing from almost all of his later cottage paintings: people.
Kinkade justifies the absence of people in his picturesque scenarios because he doesn’t want to exclude any viewers from being able to step into the fantasy. “When you paint people, you limit people,” Kinkade once explained, offering the example of a hypothetical Vietnamese-American family. “Why would they want to look at a picture of a dozen white people sitting around a Thanksgiving table?”
What the artist fails to understand is that Vietnamese-Americans (as well as African-, Mexican-, Chinese-, and other hyphenated Americans) probably do not share the Anglo-American cottage fantasy. And his cottage scenes are precisely that—Anglo fantasies. Adults hang paintings of Kinkade’s paintings of cottages in their living room for the same reason that little girls put posters of unicorns and rainbows on their bedroom walls. It is a pseudo-referential nostalgia, a longing for what does not exist in reality but exists in the fantasy realm of possibility.
No other painting epitomizes this nostalgia for a place that never existed better than Cottage by the Sea.
As Kinkade explains, “Though this cottage doesn’t exist anywhere but in my painting, I think for many of us it represents an ideal seaside getaway. Of course, I had to paint the scene at sunset. After all, what would a seaside cottage be without a beautiful sunset to watch?”
What is so dispiriting about this painting is that rather than being created in order to be challenging or even inspiring, it’s intended only to be comforting. It invites the viewer to enter a world of unnatural nature, a world where the “light” comes from within, and the warmth comes not from the receding sun but from inside the walls of the perfect Anglo shelter.
The cottage is a self-contained safe place where the viewer can shut himself in and get away from the harsh realities of creation, particularly away from other people. The Cottage by the Sea offers a place where the viewer can enter the perfect world of Kinkade’s creation—and escape the messy world of Kinkade’s Creator.
June 23rd, 2009 | 2:20 am
Compare Kincade with Tom Lynch and the reasons for disliking Kincade become obvious. Lynch, at his worst, is better than the best Kincade.
June 23rd, 2009 | 5:25 am
One has to bristle at his appropriation of the title “painter of light.” Caravaggio, Bouguereau…many are more worthy. (Georges de la Tour, anyone?)
I would guess that his communities are “gated” to assure safety and homogeneity. But after reading this, I am surprised that any people are allowed. They would throw Kinkade’s cloying creation just so out of wack.
June 23rd, 2009 | 5:33 am
And while I’m on a bit of a vitriolic roll – did he paint the cover of that Shack book? Who needs cautionary reviews…the cover, whether real or pseudo-Kinkade, says enough.
June 23rd, 2009 | 8:45 am
This is a fascinating commentary, Joe. My kids and I spent some time in front of the Thomas Kinkade Gallery on Main Street in Blowing Rock, NC, last week — and if ever there were an entire town poised to morph into a Thomas Kinkade fantasy, Blowing Rock would be it (in fact, it’s already been immortalized in a series of Kinkade-y novels by Jan Karon . . . it never occured to me until this moment to think of Jan Karon as a literary Kinkade, though now it seems kind of obvious).
Anyway. We were perversely drawn to the paintings hanging in the window, one of which, a landscape — I’m sure there was a cottage in the distance — seemed to feature four or five distinct weather systems all operating simultaneously, which fascinated us: it had the quality of one of those sped-up videos in which the sun rises and sets, the moon waxes and wanes, and clouds rush over the sky, all in the space of a minute and a half. If you can’t decide what kind of atmosphere you like best, stop the film and have them all . . .
I’d never seen anything of Kinkade’s but the “Painter of Light” stuff. Interesting to contrast them with the other works you’ve included here. I’m intrigued by the grounded fireworks around the base of the Chicago Water Tower in the second version of that scene . . .
June 23rd, 2009 | 9:00 am
You know, it’s just odd to me that anyone would argue that if you didn’t know about Kinkade and saw his work in a respectable gallery you would be impressed. I say this because of the way in which I learned about Kincade. I first heard of him during my early twenties, though I had seen images of his work many times before. I knew little about art at the time except that certain things looked to me like quality and others didn’t, so you can’t accuse me of snobbery.
And here’s the deal: when I heard that behind all those images of cottages and such that I had seen so many times before there was actually an artist with a name who painted these things on a canvas and signed them and sold them… well, I just couldn’t believe it. It really had never, never occured to me that those images could exist somewhere as “works of art.” I honestly, and completely innocently, always assumed that they must be produced by an army of employees working somewhere to create images for greeting cards and other such products. It was exactly as if someday you discovered that there is an actual poet who sells books of his poetry full of the Valentine’s day poems, father’s day poems, graduation poems, and birthday poems that you find Hallmark cards.
That was exactly what it was like for me to discover that Thomas Kincade was an artist. And, again, all this happened to me in an almost complete state of innocence about the whole thing. It just never occured to me that those images could ever, ever be found in a museum…
June 23rd, 2009 | 9:40 am
I read a take-down of Kinkade’s work a couple of years ago. It did not (if I recall correctly) mention the earlier work which you show here (and which I am astonished to see — why would anyone exchange making such beautiful pictures for creating these awful disneyesque backdrops?) Anyway, the critic suggested that the busiest person in any Kinkade village must be the arson investigator since clearly all of those overlit cottages were on fire!
June 23rd, 2009 | 9:46 am
I recall riding through a beautiful mountain valley in Norway some years ago, and marveling at the grim, sublime scenery. And almost the first thing that came into my mind was, “I hope Thomas Kinkade never paints this.”
June 23rd, 2009 | 10:05 am
Joe, art critic? You’re a renaissance man!
I was never ‘pulled’ toward Mr. Kinkade’s work, God bless ‘em, but the appreciation for any art is in the participant…it’s like I know what I like when I see it.
I once saw an old American portrait, a huge old thing, in a Pittsburgh museum, and the dude’s eyes looked so real, as if he were starring at me…it was like I wanted to say something to him and he was waiting on me to say it. Wow, that was a painting….forget who the artist was….! Enjoyed this piece!
June 23rd, 2009 | 10:24 am
I appreciate art on a simple, enjoyable level. I find no failure in a painting that comforts; must we always challenge? I also thought the second water tower to be far more enjoyable and clear than the one you thought to be museum-worthy. I think there is a consistent arrogance among educated artists and students of art that neglects something basic to the rest of us ‘normal’ people who aren’t wise enough to appreciate technique… we like to look at it. Nothing more. And Kinkade has outsold all the artists you experts and critics find superior. So rave on…
June 23rd, 2009 | 10:33 am
Joe,
With regard to the first two pictures, I think they are both quite good. In fact, I happen to like the second one a little better than the first. Granted, Kinkade’s stuff has been over commercialized. But millions of people are buying it because they like it (i.e., they find it aesthetically pleasing). Your post strikes me as somewhere between Monday-morning quarterbacking and aesthetic snobbery that disdains cultural artifacts that are popular. What have you painted and what are people willing to pay for it?
June 23rd, 2009 | 10:37 am
Thank you, thank you, thank you for putting into words exactly why I dislike Kinkade’s paintings so much!
I could never quite put my finger directly on why his stuff set me off so, so in defending my views I’d fumble for metaphors instead: Aggressively wholesome, like the visual equivalent to being force-fed health food until you puke. All the soulless cutesy-ness of a taxidermied baby bunny. Like trying to film an epic nature documentary in the overlit and underpopulated confines of a television studio.
Having someone come right out and explain why his paintings are so eye-wateringly obnoxious is refreshing! Too many people fall for his hotel-room kitsch and forget that a real painting doesn’t have to be crisp lines and piles of unnaturally-colored flowers.
June 23rd, 2009 | 10:51 am
[...] examination of Thomas Kincade, Joe. I was unaware of (and impressed with) his earlier work — which of course prompts the [...]
June 23rd, 2009 | 11:29 am
Jeff: I appreciate art on a simple, enjoyable level. I find no failure in a painting that comforts; must we always challenge?
That’s a good question. I would say that there is nothing wrong with a painting that comforts (or with a painting that challenges and comforts either).
. . . we like to look at it. Nothing more.
But I’m not sure that it true. Oh, sure some people do just like to “look at” Kincade’s paintings but I think for most people their feelings about the work (and art in general) are a bit more complex. Your view, for instance, is not as simple as you might think.
For example, you seem to be positing a theory of art criticism that claims that comfort and enjoyment can be a legitimate aesthetic end. I actually agree with you here. But you also seem to imply that the application of this principle shroud not be disputed, but must be left up to the individual judgment of the person viewing the work.
The problem with this sort of aesthetic relativism is that it can be applied too broadly. What about people who like to view obscene content because it brings them comfort and enjoyment? Would it be arrogant to say there might be something wrong with that?
I’m not saying your point of view is wrong. I just think that you have to do more than to say, “I like what I like and only snobs would say that there is something wrong with that.” Maybe there is something of value in Kincade’s art that I am missing. But that means the starting point should be to explain where I err, rather than to shut down the discussion by saying “Kincade sells a lot of painting so he must be doing something right.”
John: Your post strikes me as somewhere between Monday-morning quarterbacking and aesthetic snobbery that disdains cultural artifacts that are popular. What have you painted and what are people willing to pay for it?
Your last question sort of gives it away. You seem to imply that the value of art is how much people are willing to pay for it. In essence, you are implying that if a work is popular it can’t be that bad and that any criticism must be a form of snobbery.
I certainly don’t disdain cultural artifacts because they are popular. In fact, some of the best art throughout history has been “popular.” But I’m a bit tired of the idea that anything popular is off-limits to criticism.
Also, my criticism is not that Kincade is a bad artist but that he is a very good painter who has decided to squander his God-given gifts in order to sell mass-market kitsch. The waste of his talent is what really irks me about him and his work. If he couldn’t produce anything better than it wouldn’t be nearly so bad.
June 23rd, 2009 | 11:39 am
Interesting blog. I like how you used his early work to compare his newer work. That is a lot more relevant to me than reading something about why this guy is good and this guy is not. It does seem to show a change in the overall philosophy of his art. He is leaning more towards the commercial than the expressional now.
What does kind of bother me about such articles and comments that follow is how they take a swipe at one guy. I hope everyone commenting is “bashing” consistently. If the point is people selling fantasy for profit while snubbing reality and truth due to supply and demand issues, I hope we each hold the same type of criticism toward actors who make fluff movies or musicians who write watered down lyrics. I hope this criticism extends past the arts to business, to pulpits and to ourselves. Kinkdade should be viewed as an example not a target. He is a parable where we pray that the prodigal returns home to his father leaving the world behind.
June 23rd, 2009 | 12:08 pm
[...] I came across a link to an article by Joe Carter at First Things about Thomas Kinkade “Painter of Light™” and I stopped to ready. Glad [...]
June 23rd, 2009 | 12:56 pm
Joe, nice commentary. This reminds me of all those mass marketed authors whose early works were worth a rainy day read, but are now just pumping out unreadable garbage.
June 23rd, 2009 | 2:00 pm
“Cottage by the Sea” made me think of Tolkien’s hobbit-holes before you even used the word “comforting.” (“It was a hobbit-hole, and that meant comfort.”)
I don’t see anything wrong with depicting homes as places of safety. We have plenty of opposing views in our culture, after all.
(I do prefer Kincaide’s earlier paintings in the comparisons you show, though.)
June 23rd, 2009 | 3:18 pm
For what it’s worth, I stopped trusting the New York art community when they insisted that Jackson Pollock had something valuable to say with his splattered canvases.
I am with Mike, Joe and John on this one. It is absolutely nonsensical to claim that a work of art is less worthy of admiration just because it is romanticized or stylized to make the viewer more comfortable. And this coming from a guy who loves, even relishes, a lot of “darker” art because it reminds us that the world is not all strawberries and cream and fairies and unicorns. Reality certainly is a dark and dreary place, but Kincade art (or that of Norman Rockwell, for that matter) can provide a bit of a refuge, though I think it has more value than harmless escapism. Painting a bright, happy and Romantic picture is a valuable pursuit in its own right.
June 23rd, 2009 | 3:31 pm
For anyone interested. I highly recommend the book:
“The Artist’s Guide to Sketching” by Thomas Kinkade and James Gurney (creator of the Dinotopia book series – http://www.dinotopia.com)
In my opinion, the book is the men’s best work to date. Early in their twenties, Gurney and Kinkade hitchhiked the U.S. by train so that they could sketch the American landscape. Afterward, they turned the experience into a book. Inside the covers overflowed pages of gorgeous sketches and snippets of advice on how to become a better drawer/sketcher. As a teenager I became an instant fan after coming across the little gem at my local library in Maine. A few years later I left to study art in Baltimore. Boy was I disappointed when I walked into my first Kinkade gallery in Baltimore’s inner-harbor Pratt Street Pavilion. How had one artist’s lifestyle and ideals changed so dramatically? Was it the need, like most of us, to make a decent living? Was it to create a cozy Pickwickian lifestyle for themselves and their families?
To me, Kinkade is a highly skilled illustrator and entrepreneur. While those two things require an unfathomable amount of hard work and talent they don’t, for me, speak to my heart or intellect.
June 23rd, 2009 | 4:43 pm
I don’t particularly like Kinkade, but it seems that 99 out of 100 criticisms of his work remind me of a related issue. Almost all *film* critics don’t realize that most people go to the *movies*.
Admittedly, just because something is popular doesn’t mean that it’s good. But in a field where there isn’t such a thing as right and wrong, I am very loathe to refer to the opinions of the educated.
June 23rd, 2009 | 5:13 pm
Thank you for this article. I’ll print it and pack it where I can reach for it at a moment’s notice… especially in those moments when Kinkade fans look at me, stupefied, and say, “You DON’T LIKE his work? But… he’s a Christian!” Instead of risking my life and engaging that conversation, I will pull out this article, along with a copy of this one — also well-worth reading — by Gregory Wolfe, publisher of Image journal: http://imagejournal.org/page/journal/editorial-statements/the-painter-of-lite
Wolfe’s article has come in handy several times. But I’m ever so happy to have a second opinion to offer along with his.
I did see an imitation Kinkade painting once. It depicted a whole neighborhood of cozy Kinkade cottages. But if you looked closely, there were snipers in the trees, and massive tanks circled the village, their cannons aimed outward. Ah, the price of heaven on earth.
Jeffrey
June 23rd, 2009 | 5:58 pm
The comparison between the two Water Tower paintings is stunning, literally eye-opening.
The first has depth, weight, a sense of space created by the contrast of light and shadow. The trees loom in front of the tower; the carriage sits solidly on the road in the foreground.
The second is insipidly weightless and two-dimensional, lacking the contrast to create a real sense of depth. The road has so little substance that the streaks of snow on the road might as well be clouds floating a few inches over a sparkling stream.
Ellyn wrote: “One has to bristle at his appropriation of the title “painter of light.” Caravaggio, Bouguereau…many are more worthy.”
Yes: Precisely because Caravaggio and Bouguereau filled their paintings with darkness as well as light. That’s what makes the light pop.
Brendt wrote: “Almost all *film* critics don’t realize that most people go to the *movies*.”
That’s silly. Look at all the critical love lavished on the likes of The Hangover and Star Trek. You’re not going to tell me those are art-snobby Feelms, are you? :-)
June 23rd, 2009 | 8:25 pm
Personally, I have issues with any kind of art that can sit next to a “Precious Moments” figurine and not look out of place. Mr. Kinkade seems to be motivated more by the stirrings of a cash register than that of a true artist’s soul. He can no longer call himself a true artist as he joins the ranks of “Disney” and is a businessman.
June 23rd, 2009 | 8:31 pm
If Thomas Kinkade somehow -and I mean ‘somehow’- became an art world sensation, sold out shows and made CEOs blush at Sotheby’s auctions, I can say without hesitation that I would still despise his images (I can hardly justify complimenting him with the word ‘art’). There is something downright aggravating about the work he produces, and that is only exemplified by the audience who supports him; usually middle-aged multiple-cat-owning women looking for something ‘cute’ to accentuate their bathroom decor.
Christian artists inparticular have a high calling (one that has historically been answered well!) to pursue aesthetic excellence, not coffee-mug kitsch. Thank God for Christian artists like Makoto Fujimura and the work they are involved in. May their tribe increase!
June 23rd, 2009 | 8:47 pm
I think a blog post a wrote a while ago might be worth reading… My fear is that christians will do what the do with most things, not really engage but just poke holes in it…
http://revjohnames.blogspot.com/2008/09/when-angel-of-light-comes-with.html
June 24th, 2009 | 12:40 am
Ross said:
“…the audience who supports him; usually middle-aged multiple-cat-owning women looking for something ‘cute’ to accentuate their bathroom decor…”
What a thoroughly nasty, snobbish, unchristian thing to say. You should be ashamed of yourself.
June 24th, 2009 | 10:01 am
Joe, if you send me your email address, I’ll send you a copy of an article I wrote on Kinkade — although you’ve put it better than anything I’ve managed to say! Nicely done, Luke
June 24th, 2009 | 10:13 am
I never did like Thomas Kinkade’s style. He is a good painter, but he will never be among the Great Masters. In my opinion the paintings are good to decorate calendars, postcards and appointment books. Compare his paintings to those of Van Gogh.
June 24th, 2009 | 10:40 am
People generally like to stay within their comfort zones, and acquiring a broader range of tastes is a learned thing.
Many of my third graders have been exposed to a very narrow range of pleasures, whether in art or music or food, or any other area. I make sure to have my students try new foods, listen to unfamiliar music, and look at various works of art in the course of our lessons. I also give them some basic drawing instruction as they work on specific projects. All of this exposure and experimentation gives students the ability to enjoy a much wider range of creative production.
I don’t mind if my students come away liking Kinkade. But by the end of their formal education, I would want them to know why they like his work (and why others might not). I also want them to know why Jackson Pollock’s work is worth pondering, and to be able to come back again and again to the paintings of Rembrandt or Monet with ever-increasing enjoyment. The best artists’ works keep giving new pleasures and insights as the viewer learns more about them and develops an ever-keener eye.
Personally, in art, music, and literature, I enjoy a wide range, and I understand the need to be immersed for awhile in an alternate world. But the best creative works give me more than mere escape–they give me renewed strength and gratitude for the good things in reality.
Think about the artworks that give you comfort. Do you come away with a longing to stay in that alternate world and a feeling of bitterness about having to live your real life? Or do you come away with greater peace and ability to love creation, including other people? And when someone else shows you their favorite paintings (Rembrandt? Kinkade? Pollock?), do you roll your eyes, or do you ask them to tell you why they love these pieces?
June 24th, 2009 | 12:34 pm
“…the audience who supports him; usually middle-aged multiple-cat-owning women looking for something ‘cute’ to accentuate their bathroom decor…”
“What a thoroughly nasty, snobbish, unchristian thing to say. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
I absolutely agree, Kathie. I don’t prefer Mr. Kinkade’s work myself, but I know plenty of people who do like it. And none of them fit the description to which you rightly objected. If given the choice, I’d rather be in a room full of the people who are fans of Mr. Kinkade’s art than in a room full of those who look down their noses at “the audience that supports him”.
June 24th, 2009 | 12:45 pm
Jeffrey, I am aching to see this painting you describe: “an imitation Kinkade painting… depicted a whole neighborhood of cozy Kinkade cottages. But if you looked closely, there were snipers in the trees, and massive tanks circled the village, their cannons aimed outward.”
To me this sounds like a piece of art that would keep me coming back to figure out what it was trying to say. It invites questions and stories and disapproval and insight. It sounds like the kind of art Liz might show her students and ask, “What do you think about this?”
June 24th, 2009 | 1:33 pm
I do not like Thomas Kinkade’s work, but I don’t begrudge the man his millions. Many, many people like his paintings, and if they like to look at a cottage that never did (and never could) exist, why shouldn’t they? When I was a teenager I loved Maxfield Parrish’s work, and later I really enjoyed Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema’s romantic ancient Rome. I never bought a print by either but I still have a soft spot in my heart for both. As artists, they were certainly technically superior to Kinkade, but just as sentimental. There will always be a spot for sentimental painting, and I don’t see why there shouldn’t be. And if anyone is going to get rich painting, I’m glad it’s someone people enjoy rather than one of those weird contemporary artists that people have to educate themselves enough to “appreciate.”
June 24th, 2009 | 2:00 pm
Kinkade doesn’t really appeal to me, but in the genre of Romantic Idealism, Kinkade is extraordinarily talented.
It baffles me why people hate him so passionately. I suspect it’s because they perceive it’s the “enlightened” opinion to hold.
June 24th, 2009 | 2:09 pm
Engaging article, Joe. I found it via Christ and Pop Culture and was inspired to write a post of my own at New Breed of Advertisers (http://newbreedofadvertisers.blogspot.com/2009/06/thomas-kincade-and-oreos.html)
June 24th, 2009 | 2:17 pm
This image is maybe my favorite comment on Kincade’s paintings – a stellar remix:
http://www.matthewirvine.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/kinkade.jpg
June 24th, 2009 | 2:23 pm
I have a PhD in art history from an Ivy League university and I was an assistant professor for a while. I have also worked in museums and galleries. I do not like Kinkade’s work, but the whole discussion in the comments is very provincial in my opinion. This is why museums do so badly in their outreach. Or rather, they don’t even care about outreach. You almost all speak of “art” as having meaning and conclude that Kinkade’s does not. But in fact, one could more easily conclude that his current paintings “say” more than the earlier ones, which are not particularly good, despite the dichotomy you try to set up. Just as medieval art (my speciality) — or Shakespeare, to move it to another genre — spoke to the populace of the time in ways that only experts can now appreciate, Kinkade’s art speaks to the populace today. I think you give away your prejudices (as if we were left in doubt after the aesthetic argument) by your sneer about Anglo values. There is nothing wrong with Anglo values, aka Western Civ. They have brought the greatest amount of safety and prosperity to the greatest number of people of any set of values in all of time and space. To give you another analogy, I went to Harvard Law (yes, after leaving art history because of attitudes like yours reflected in museum curating), where the dorms were by Le Corbusier. They were famously unliveable,as all Bauhaus architecture. But architecture students still came to gawk and admire, not caring that the object did not even meet the needs it was ostensibly built for. There was a fascist/socialist impulse behind Bauhaus that ignored what individual people really wanted. Same with my sister’s Louis Kahn dorm at Bryn Mawr. Unliveable, but oh so “famous” and “great”. I know you won’t get this, but open your mind. Avoid the fascist impulse that is running through your comments.
June 24th, 2009 | 6:01 pm
Kathie: I rest my case.
June 24th, 2009 | 9:19 pm
Kathie: “…There is nothing wrong with Anglo values, aka Western Civ. They have brought the greatest amount of safety and prosperity to the greatest number of people of any set of values in all of time and space.”
At what price though? Is it worth it to gain the world (safety and prosperity) but lose our soul?
We (Western Civ.) are a society of people so out of touch with our souls our families are falling apart all around us and we can’t even see it.
Don’t get me wrong, I am for Western Civilization, I just think we have lost touch with the realities around us.
I am the farthest thing from an art critic/expert, I am usually the one who will buy what looks pleasing to the eye, but I so much appreciate Joe and the comments following for challenging me to look further.
June 26th, 2009 | 2:27 pm
“What is so dispiriting about this painting is that rather than being created in order to be challenging or even inspiring, it’s intended only to be comforting.”
A pregnant sentence, coupled with Kinkade’s popularity in the market. It’s edifying to be challenged or inspired, but there’s a greater need for simple comfort.
Sometimes to comfort can be a vice, as if one were to twist “To comfort the afflicted and to afflict the comfortable.” As “Afflict the afflicted, and comfort the comfortable.”
If one were to imagine the millions who buy Kinkade’s paintings as a loathsome bourgeois who are in need of remedial discomfort, well then he’ll bring a sneer or a sigh.
I don’t own any of his paintings, nor am I drawn to them. Yet, I can see that someone could find in them a small respite from the common driving life. I won’t begrudge anyone that.
June 27th, 2009 | 10:39 pm
I never understand these kinds of discussions. What business is it of any of you to judge someone’s work. What is your work? Is it beyond critics?
Kincaid is an artist for better or worse in the eye of the beholder. It’s not as if he created the idol worship people have for his paintings and products.
Comparing paintings you did not paint. Judging how others make a living. Can you find anything good to say? Why don’t you celebrate his success and wish him well instead.
No artist no matter what our medium is paying you any attention anyway. We know better.
June 29th, 2009 | 8:36 am
[...] This is a facinating piece that critiques Thomas Kinkade’s kitsch paintings by comparing and contrasting them with … earlier Kinkade works, far superior to the popular stuff today. [...]
June 29th, 2009 | 11:52 am
[...] look at [Thomas] Kinkade’s Cottage [...]
June 29th, 2009 | 3:51 pm
I like Kinkade. I like Norman Rockwell and Harold Newton. I don’t get the conversation above, but I’m a bumbkin and that’s ok.
June 29th, 2009 | 10:39 pm
[...] HERE to read the article and the [...]
June 30th, 2009 | 1:02 am
[...] al luminii m-a făcut să fiu rezervat nu numai făţă de operă, ci şi faţă de personaj. Iată un articol critic vis-a-vis de opera sa. Ceea ce remarcă autorul este felul în care a degenerat pictura lui Kinkade (cît de bună o fi [...]
July 1st, 2009 | 8:23 am
[...] Carter at First Things blog recently posted this article about Thomas Kincade’s artwork. I must admit, I’m not a big Kincade fan – [...]
August 3rd, 2009 | 10:12 am
It reminds me of the comment by Os Guiness. Speaking of Disneyworld, that unreal land made of “pressed muck” and its escapist ethos. he said:
“We go there to experience the loss of all that we behold.”
Perhaps the saddest reality is that millions of people inflict this “gift” upon their children, completely unaware that by cherishing unreality they have lost something infinitely more valuable than the boatload of money they paid.
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