I was provoked into buying this book by the author of another volume [ASIN:0972872329 Creative Authenticity: 16 Principles to Clarify and Deepen Your Artistic Vision] who described Kinkade's art as "repellent". This is a very strong word, and given that art appreciation is very subjective, inadvisable if you want to avoid appearing bigoted. I knew nothing of Kinkade's art, except that it was populist, and dismissed as vulgar by some, but I thought that anything which could inspire such hatred ought to be worth a look.
The book is superbly, even luxuriously, produced, with heavily padded, faux leather covers, and picture borders ornamented by reproductions of the small gilt corners which used to hold photographs in albums; indeed, it seems designed to replicate the typical Victorian family album. Since no-one else claims authorship, we must assume that the text was written by the artist himself, the copywright resting with a company that bears his name. He has chosen to present it in the form of third party reportage and interviews - quoting from himself at length, alongside lavish praise from his wife, employees, clients and business associates - although it has to be said that quotes from one such associate are conspicuous by their absence.
For on page 153, Kinkade roundly declares that he "asked God to be his art agent". This is, of course, a very astute partnership, God being very popular in the USA, where Kinkade is apparently the best selling artist of all time. Moreover, he goes on to declare that although his own hand held the brushes, it was God who actually did the painting. One of the works is indeed offered as a portrait of the son of God, and, of course, no-one else on the planet today actually knows what he looked like. So presumably God holds the copywright, and all those millions that Kinkade has amassed don't really belong to him and his family at all, but to God. Notwithstanding some charitable work, he has yet to hand them all over, apparently, and, despite his frank admission, there appears to be little chance that God or his representatives will sue him for them.
The paintings that made Kinkade so rich, and which have sold as prints by the million, are unique, strange, sometimes eery (one or two made me think of the Munsters), heavily-crafted, romantic fantasies, with a distinctly turn-of-the-century biscuit tin aura. Some are clearly set in that period, yet frequently feature isolated rural cottages in which every window is powerfully lit from within by what can only be sodium floodlights, despite the absence of electricity pylons. The reproductions of more conventional works, which perhaps God may not have had a hand in, show Kinkade himself to be a true and competent impressionist.
As well as reproductions of his artwork from his earliest childhood (and he was clearly a talented youngster), we are offered many photographs of the artist and his family, his business associates - except of course the one already mentioned, although we do see the artist with one of his representatives, evangelist Billy Graham - and with his clients, including Presidents.
You perhaps don't buy this book for the art (unless you're one of Kinkade's millions of admirers) but to goggle at the audacity and enterprise of the man. Few if any artists can have manipulated their market so skilfully and so profitably, which is perhaps why he attracts such hatred from his envious peers.
One of a kind. Five stars for its entertainment value, its unwitting social commentary, and the reluctant admiration and incredulous mirth engendered on most of the nearly 200 heavyweight pages; oh, and a few decent à la prima impressionist studies for good measure. Would like to have seen more of those...