From: Marco Milazzo (mmilazz1@elp.rr.com)
Date: 01/05/03-11:16:40 AM Z
Shannon,
Was it Salinger who wrote that sentimentality is when you love something or
someone more than God does?
That's glib, but it suggests that sentimentality is false affection because
it's exaggerated. But that suggests that there is such a thing as "true"
sentimentality, or affection which has human proportions.
Looking at the bigger picture, I've felt -- and I suspect others feel --
that where art is concerned, we've taken a wrong turn somewhere. So much
contemporary art is negative and cynical, narrowly focused.
Maybe we're locked in some kind of perpetual reaction to Beaux Arts or the
French Academy or something, I don't know. I only know that I -- and I
suspect other people-- yearn for a certain something in art we abandoned in
those schools of thought.
I'm looking for TRUE sentimentality; TRUE affirmation; and TRUE ideals.
Personally, I'm tired of art that says "Religion is stupid. Life is nasty,
short and brutish. Our nation sucks. Business is evil, Only sex and drugs
are real, etc. "
I'm not saying Bougerreau is the answer, and I really don't think Kincade
is, either. I'm really not sure what the answer is. But I know I'm not
looking for escapism; I'm looking for something positive in art, and I
believe that's what you're feeling.
Correct me if I'm wrong.
Marco
El Paso, Texas
----- Original Message -----
From: "Shannon Stoney" <shannonstoney@earthlink.net>
To: <alt-photo-process-l@skyway.usask.ca>
Sent: Sunday, January 05, 2003 11:32 AM
Subject: Thomas Kinkade, Beyond the GArden GAte
> I hope this is not too off-topic; maybe it is related to the thread about
> technique and imagery. Certainly it touches on some things we've talked
> about in the past about contemporary art.
>
> My sister gave me a book for Christmas called Beyond the Garden Gate. It
> has paintings in it by Thomas Kinkade, the famous (or infamous) painter
who
> has had amazing success selling paintings of romantic garden scenes with
> thatched cottages and rose arches and glowing windows and the like. He
calls
> himself the "painter of light." I went in one of his galleries in New
> Orleans; they are a chain of galleries with outlets all over the country.
> Some of his paintings sell for tens of thousands of dollars, yet most
> artists and critics would consider them "bad." Indeed my sister gave me
> this book as kind of a joke. It also has quotes in it from the Bible and
> Homer and other sources about gardens and the beauty of creation, etc.
>
> I looked at this book carefully today, expecting to hate it. But I liked
> it! I had to admit that some of the paintings had some good passages.
And
> he does have some understanding of light and shadow. Kinkade has
obviously
> looked carefully at Monet and some other impressionist painters. The main
> faults I found with it had to do with perspective or some other technical
> issue that made the scene look not convincing or real. But then I thought,
> Wait, this isn't supposed to be REAL. It's a fantasy. So why quibble
about
> the perspective.
>
> Then my partner and I talked about why Kinkade can sell these paintings
for
> such fantastic prices. Partly what he's selling is this fantasy of a
rural
> paradise, covered with flowers, peace, and beautiful light. People
> criticize him for that, saying that the paintings are too pretty or too
> sentimental. But, my photographs are also pretty and maybe a bit
> sentimental. I go for the romantic light and the flowers and peace too.
Of
> course, a photograph is always a bit grittier and more "real" looking than
a
> painting, so maybe any photograph will be saved from being too much of a
> pretty fantasy just by virtue of being a photograph. (I remember thinking
> when I first saw 19th century photographs that the 19th century was a lot
> dirtier and messier than I thought it was, having previously only seen it
in
> paintings.) But what's wrong with a pretty fantasy? Why don't we revile
> Matisse for making pretty fantasies? At what point does a pretty fantasy
> cross the line and start to be a Hallmark card? I guess the question is:
> how do you know you're not making kitsch? And how afraid should you be of
> making some kitsch? Maybe people are so afraid of making some kitsch that
> they don't take the risk of edging up to the abyss of kitsch. I think
it's
> kind of exciting to see how close you can come to that edge without
falling
> over.
>
> This also raises the question of what is kitsch? Milan Kundera said it
was
> when you are observing yourself, with some smug satisfaction, having a
> pleasant emotion, as when you are watching children playing on the grass
and
> thinking, Isn't it lovely to be the kind of person who enjoys watching
> children playing on the grass? You sort of congratulate yourself. But,
> there is a fine line between smugness and just plain gratitude for peace
and
> prosperity. One is kind of dumb and bad, and the other is a plain and
> simple virtue. You shouldn't be so much of an intellectual that you have
> contempt for such feelings.
>
> Also Kinkade's paintings cater to an understandable nostalgia and longing
in
> highly urbanized people for a quieter, slower, rural pace of life. This
is
> also nothing to be contemptuous about. These paintings are direct
> descendents of Constable's paintings, made when the Industrial Revolution
> was getting cranked up in England. Constable saw the beloved English
> countryside of his childhood disappearing, and he memorialized it in
> paintings that are now on biscuit tins and cards, but that doesn't mean
> they are bad paintings. Kinkade is not as good a painter as Constable by
a
> long shot, and maybe his motives are not quite as pure as Constable's, but
> people love his paintings for some of the same reasons that they love
> Constable: the longing for a rural scene of their childhood or maybe just
> their collective unconscious memory.
>
> Then we thought that maybe these paintings are so popular because they are
> sort of an antidote to the "abject" painting and photography of the last
two
> decades. After looking at a lot of Nan Goldin and Joel Peter Witkin and
> Francis Bacon, something sweet and pretty is kind of a relief. I realized
> that in a way I am sort of banking on that kind of desire myself, for some
> alternative to the moody nudes and people shooting up and dirty sheets,
not
> to mention decapitated heads. Something like a creek with trees hanging
> over it, with blurry water from the long exposure. It used to be fairly
> normal to like to look at something beautiful and peaceful, until fairly
> recently. Our notion of beauty expanded during the 20th century to include
> non-representational painting, and abstraction, and even minimalism, but
> after that there was no place to go except to the decapitated heads.
>
> Thus we have Thomas Kinkade. I have to admire a person who can make a
> living, indeed a very good living, making pictures that people actually
want
> to buy. Also, I admire somebody who can thumb his nose completely at the
> art establishment. I wouldn't want to make a painting exactly like his,
but
> I might want to make a photograph sort of like that.
>
> --shannon
>
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