THE DOUBLE LIFE OF THOMAS KINKADE
The work of Thomas Kinkade, whose mass-marketed paintings are hugely popular but dismissed by critics as kitsch, has long obsessed JEFFREY VALLANCE. But when he started having strange prophetic dreams about the late artist, he found himself uncovering the dark side of the ‘Painter of Light’…
I HAD AN INTUITIVE SENSE THAT THERE WAS MORE TO HIM THAN MET THE EYE
The work of Thomas Kinkade, whose mass-marketed paintings are simultaneously hugely popular and dismissed by critics as the worst sort of kitsch, has long obsessed JEFFREY VALLANCE. But when he started having strange prophetic dreams about the late artist, he found himself uncovering the dark side of the ‘Painter of Light’…
The American artist Thomas Kinkade (1958–2012), also known as “The Painter of Light”, is celebrated for his luminous candy-coloured landscapes and especially for his trademark paintings of cosy cottages. In his lifetime, he was one of the most highly collected artists – his paintings found a place in one American home out of every 20.
KINKADE IN HEAVEN Before I met Thomas Kinkade, I had an intuitive sense that there was more to him than met the eye. I felt that deep within him was a concealed dark prankster. There was no way I could have intuited this from any outward signs – I just knew it. I believe that on account of this, when we met, we understood each other. One prankster recognises another.
That is why in 2004, when I proposed my radical idea for a Kinkade retrospective exhibition entitled Heaven on Earth at the CSUF Grand Central Art Center in Santa Ana, California, I met with no pushback whatsoever. I had free reign to do anything I wanted to with the show. I believe Kinkade saw the convoluted absurdity of my plan – and he relished it. He understood that no matter how outrageous I would be with the show, it could only benefit him. The more unconventional I was with the installation, the more hip he would look for allowing me to do it. He couldn’t lose. For perhaps the first time, he was taken seriously by the art world.
In the exhibition, I organised all the Kinkade objects into a series of themed installations. Two Kinkade libraries displayed hundreds of his publications and a theatre played his promotional videos. His innumerable branded products were arranged into cosy installations including a living room, dining room, bedroom, and a Christmas scene with a 12ft (3.7m) Christmas tree. The Kinkade Chapel featured his Christian works among rows of pews. A room was dedicated to his architectural drawings from the Kinkade-themed housing tract. As the centrepiece, a Kinkade MBNA Visa credit card was displayed in a vitrine resting on a velvet pillow.
Many critics seemed to take great glee in putting Kinkade down, but things were different now. Many reviewers of the show followed a similar pattern. Most writers pretty much admitted that they loathed Kinkade and came expecting to hate the show – like gawkers at a train wreck – but then something happened. The kitsch was laid on so thick that something snapped in their brains. They experienced transcendence and ended up liking the show. This was precisely what I had planned. This sudden change in the critics, from loathing to approval, was not lost on Kinkade. When he and I talked about it, he looked ecstatic.
It is not widely known that Thom had a profound sense of humour. For instance, whenever Thom and his brother Pat got together, as a matter of course they’d plot their next big prank. They drew up plans for getting a flatbed trailer upon which they’d build one of Thom’s trademark cosy cottages. The scheme was to tow the cottage to the Burning Man festival in Nevada’s Black Rock Desert. At night the cottage windows would have a warm amber glow; however, very slowly the intensity of
the lights would increase until the whole thing would catch fire – and then explode! Flying pieces of the burning cottage would momentarily become airborne before fluttering to the desert floor. Unfortunately, Thom and his brother never got to carry out this mischievous caper.
At the Heaven on Earth exhibition, when we had some private time to talk together (in the tranquillity of the aforementioned Kinkade Chapel, specially constructed for the show), I told him that I could see that his whole oeuvre was not unlike the most audacious performance art piece. To this, he smiled broadly, seemingly with great pleasure, and I perceived a gleam in his eye.
THE PROPHETIC DREAMS
On 6 April 2012, Thomas Kinkade died. I was devastated. It seemed as if there was a massive void in the art world. Thom was at the top of his game and monumentally successful. On the day he died, I was in the middle of trying to re-create a smaller version of our Kinkade show Heaven on Earth, designed to go in an exhibition at Cal State University Long Beach. The day before he died, Kinkade’s assistant had emailed the show’s curator, David De Boer, saying that they were reviewing the exhibition proposal and would get back to him the next day. But
Kinkade passed away that evening. The news shocked me. I felt I was close to him and somehow culpable and linked to the moment of his passing.
Soon afterward I had a series of strangely vivid dreams involving Thom, which seemed more like spiritual visitations. In the first dream I was in his studio called Ivy Gate. It has a big stone fireplace modelled after the famous one in Yosemite Lodge. In the dream, Thom looked at me and said: “Jeffrey, there is something I want to show you.” He walked over to the wall on the right side of the fireplace and opened a secret door. Inside there were stacks of artworks that looked very different from the ones that he is known for. We stepped inside, and Thom showed me paintings that seemed very “dark” – painted in greys and browns – and none of his usual trademark pastels. The work was also emotionally “dark” and his usual sentimentality was completely absent.