Is funny art actually funny? The answer, as we see it, is a rousing chorus of “it depends.”
Thomas Kinkade was a painter of cabins, lighthouses, and improvable sunsets. He was an avowed evangelical Christian who fortified his saccharine landscapes with passages from the scriptures.
’Twas a few weeks before Christmas, and all through Zionsville, Indiana’s Thomas Kinkade Gallery,
Many creatures were stirring, shoppers out for Small Business Saturday…
A study in the latest edition of the British Journal of Aesthetics portends to determine whether aesthetics are assessed through exposure, as held in a widely cited prior work of research, or if there’s a discernibly innate common component to human judgments of visual value.
Rome was founded by Romulus and Remus, the American republic empire republic was founded on the US Constitution, hell, even Apple had a “founding document” but the legacy of the “Painter of Light” Thomas Kinkade may be decided by two scratchy letters written late last year to his lover in a script that makes you wonder if he was drunk, drugged or ejaculating at the time.
This week, an unfinished masterpiece, artists on Facebook, Guggenheim’s free online catalogues, Okwui Enwezor lectures on art and civic imagination, Russian space, nasty ancient graffiti and much more …
Street art enthusiasts seem to have a thing for destructive fanaticism, but I’m not sure they realize how destructive it can be. They exuberantly consume the latest street artworks like hungry piranhas, hyping the artist and his products until there’s nothing left but an embarrassing skeleton. They get inexplicably ramped up about artists who have produced one provocative wheatpaste or had a single clever idea.