A similar concoction killed Whitney Houston. It's also sad that she had to go looking for comfort and warmth in drinking and drugs after giving so much to the world.
Far be it from me to say anything critical at this point; I just think it's said that he (apparently) wasn't able to just return the contempt the intelligentsia sent in his direction, instead of (apparently) caring for their approval.
Philip K. Dick observed that the shelf full of his published books in his apartment provided little comfort to him when he was anxious and lonely for the company and love of others.
Those who appreciated Kinkade's paintings saw only the illusion he created of cozy settings where they could imagine themselves finding a peace hard to find in the real world, but Kinkade couldn't trick himself. After all, he was the one plying the tricks that created the illusion. The comfort his work provided others was unavailable to him.
In my experience, it's only the making of artwork that provides comfort and joy, not the artwork in itself. The ecstasy is technical in nature, the process rather than the product of the process.
What does queerness have to do with your reeking of self pity world doesn't give back statement, Palladian? Exactly nothing. For your information the American artist I admire above all is Marsden Hartley.
"In my experience, it's only the making of artwork that provides comfort and joy, not the artwork in itself. The ecstasy is technical in nature, the process rather than the product of the process."
I'm no artist, but I try with music, metalwork, wood, etc. I never appreciate the finished product as much as the act of creating.
For someone like me who knows he has no natural talent, it's an ecstatic experience to hear or see glimmers of accidental quality come out of myself. It's rare, fleeting, and enough to get me to try again - hopefully forever.
I'm a late comer to being creative for it's own sake, and I recommend it to everyone. No one ever has to see the product for you to still get the benefit of that blissful experience.
Try painting, or a musical instrument, writing, drawing, wood working, or anything where you love the product of others and wish you could do it even 1/10 as well. You probably can with a little time, take that time and be patient. It will suddenly come like an epiphany.
An overdose like this does not necessarily mean he was in despair, or even unhappy.
People use drugs and alcohol recreationally, just like they ride a bicycle. Occasionally, they fall off the bike, sometimes into traffic. It often just means nothing more than they were careless or not very good at it. They may have enjoyed it up until then.
The jumping to the conclusion that they were a pathetic unhappy individual is a kind of political correctness.
Maybe he was painting what he was yearning for, or maybe it was what he was trying to escape from. The pictures were kitschy but with an undercurrent of creepy. I remember Althouse quoting somebody who said that his cottages looked like the inviting places where Hansel & Gretel were tortured to death. We're all consumed by what we are nourished by and maybe he was roasted in his own hearth fire.......I suppose there's some joy just in producing great art, but it pales before the joy of making heaps of money. Kinkade's life, for all its confusion and contradictions, had far more rewarding experiences than that of Van Gogh. It should never be forgotten that this was the man who pissed on the Winnie the Pooh statue at Disneyland and for that alone he deserves our respect.
I suppose there's some joy in producing great art, but it pales before the joy of making heaps of money.
True. It took me decades, wasted decades, to come around and admit to that truth. Of course the sensitive young have it 180 degrees wrong in their relative evaluation of art versus money...as does Palladian, ha ha ha.
Palladian said... ricpic just dislikes me because I'm a queer.
Honestly. Nobody gives a damn. But you're right about the process being more important than the product.
bagoh20 said... "In my experience, it's only the making of artwork that provides comfort and joy, not the artwork in itself. The ecstasy is technical in nature, the process rather than the product of the process."
I'm no artist, but I try with music, metalwork, wood, etc. I never appreciate the finished product as much as the act of creating.
It has always been my contention that when immerse yourself totally in your craft to the point where you loose yourself in it, put yourself in it, you raise that craft to the level of art. The difference between a Ruger 20 ga. over and under and a fine Holland and Holland.
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३९ टिप्पण्या:
And sad.
Why do you find it "strange"? Valium and alcohol can be extremely comforting and warm.
Never confuse the artist with the art.
Or in this case the faux artist with the faux art.
A similar concoction killed Whitney Houston. It's also sad that she had to go looking for comfort and warmth in drinking and drugs after giving so much to the world.
The world rarely gives back to the artist even a measure of what the artist has given.
"The world rarely gives back to the artist even a measure of what the artist has given."
I'm sure there are plenty who take more than they give.
Far be it from me to say anything critical at this point; I just think it's said that he (apparently) wasn't able to just return the contempt the intelligentsia sent in his direction, instead of (apparently) caring for their approval.
Philip K. Dick observed that the shelf full of his published books in his apartment provided little comfort to him when he was anxious and lonely for the company and love of others.
Those who appreciated Kinkade's paintings saw only the illusion he created of cozy settings where they could imagine themselves finding a peace hard to find in the real world, but Kinkade couldn't trick himself. After all, he was the one plying the tricks that created the illusion. The comfort his work provided others was unavailable to him.
I'm sure there are plenty who take more than they give.
Thomas Kinkade, for instance.
The world rarely gives back to the artist even a measure of what the artist has given.
Boo fucking hoo.
Ah, a complement from superior taken with himself guy.
Buncha aesthetes in this thread.
I'm going shopping for art in Wisconsin.
In your case, ricpic, the world happily returns the contempt you have given to it. At least it will, when I'm around, you hateful little troll.
I would imagine Kinkade was trying to create a world he wanted very much, but couldn't find.
Very sad, if so.
Are you doubting Palladian's aesthetic prowess, ricpic?
I'm sorry to mess with the sequence of your erudite reply, ricpic, but I had to edit for maximum clarity.
In my experience, it's only the making of artwork that provides comfort and joy, not the artwork in itself. The ecstasy is technical in nature, the process rather than the product of the process.
The one thing I don't doubt is Palladian's very high self-pity quotient, chick.
In other words, when the artwork is finished, the only feeling that remains is the desire to make something else.
ricpic just dislikes me because I'm a queer. Bigotry is terribly damaging to the aesthetic sensibilities.
He was trying to escape the world both with his art and with his substance abuse.
He didn't find the beauty here on earth so he created a world of fantasy and light. I'm guessing he didn't find happiness either.
What does queerness have to do with your reeking of self pity world doesn't give back statement, Palladian? Exactly nothing. For your information the American artist I admire above all is Marsden Hartley.
"In my experience, it's only the making of artwork that provides comfort and joy, not the artwork in itself. The ecstasy is technical in nature, the process rather than the product of the process."
I'm no artist, but I try with music, metalwork, wood, etc. I never appreciate the finished product as much as the act of creating.
For someone like me who knows he has no natural talent, it's an ecstatic experience to hear or see glimmers of accidental quality come out of myself. It's rare, fleeting, and enough to get me to try again - hopefully forever.
I'm a late comer to being creative for it's own sake, and I recommend it to everyone. No one ever has to see the product for you to still get the benefit of that blissful experience.
Try painting, or a musical instrument, writing, drawing, wood working, or anything where you love the product of others and wish you could do it even 1/10 as well. You probably can with a little time, take that time and be patient. It will suddenly come like an epiphany.
Most artists yearn to be understood. Everything else is secondary.
Oh, and you don't have to be queer, although I might give it whirl if it would magically give me some talent.
An overdose like this does not necessarily mean he was in despair, or even unhappy.
People use drugs and alcohol recreationally, just like they ride a bicycle. Occasionally, they fall off the bike, sometimes into traffic. It often just means nothing more than they were careless or not very good at it. They may have enjoyed it up until then.
The jumping to the conclusion that they were a pathetic unhappy individual is a kind of political correctness.
He just mixed his kink-ade a little too strong.
wv - onsighte fewspo
Maybe he was painting what he was yearning for, or maybe it was what he was trying to escape from. The pictures were kitschy but with an undercurrent of creepy. I remember Althouse quoting somebody who said that his cottages looked like the inviting places where Hansel & Gretel were tortured to death. We're all consumed by what we are nourished by and maybe he was roasted in his own hearth fire.......I suppose there's some joy just in producing great art, but it pales before the joy of making heaps of money. Kinkade's life, for all its confusion and contradictions, had far more rewarding experiences than that of Van Gogh. It should never be forgotten that this was the man who pissed on the Winnie the Pooh statue at Disneyland and for that alone he deserves our respect.
I suppose there's some joy in producing great art, but it pales before the joy of making heaps of money.
True. It took me decades, wasted decades, to come around and admit to that truth. Of course the sensitive young have it 180 degrees wrong in their relative evaluation of art versus money...as does Palladian, ha ha ha.
The grass is always greener....in a Kinkade.
Y'all need to shut-the-fuck-up.
Palladian, fuck these people and their stop-feeling-sorry-for-yourself bullshit. They live lies.
You're an artist - I know that. And I know what it means. If they want to perpetuate some shiny happy people lie, let 'em. They don't know shit.
You stay real, dude. I hear you,...
Thanks, CrackMC.
Kinkade's life, for all its confusion and contradictions, had far more rewarding experiences than that of Van Gogh.
How do you know?
Wealth is its own reward.
Damnit! ))) whap (((
* looks up Marsden Hartley *
Oh. Hahahaha. If you expand his eyeballs he's a dead ringer for Marty Feldman.
Marsden Hartley was a great artist.
Palladian said...
ricpic just dislikes me because I'm a queer.
Honestly. Nobody gives a damn. But you're right about the process being more important than the product.
bagoh20 said...
"In my experience, it's only the making of artwork that provides comfort and joy, not the artwork in itself. The ecstasy is technical in nature, the process rather than the product of the process."
I'm no artist, but I try with music, metalwork, wood, etc. I never appreciate the finished product as much as the act of creating.
It has always been my contention that when immerse yourself totally in your craft to the point where you loose yourself in it, put yourself in it, you raise that craft to the level of art.
The difference between a Ruger 20 ga. over and under and a fine Holland and Holland.
Next time I'm messed up on alcohol and Valium, I'll look at some Kinkade paintings for a double-shot of comfort and warmth.
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