Tim Tebow Loves Him, Some Fans Turning Off Now They Know More: Schmaltz Artist Thomas Kindade as You've Never Seen Him Before

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"The painter of schlock." 

When public TV stations used to have on-air auctions to raise money, I worked in the art warehouse at KCET.  Somebody donated a particularly ghastly neon-bright early Kinkade, and before I could finish the paperwork and store the thing, one of the stage crew walked in, looked at it, and asked "Where the f--k do you plug it in?"  I don't remember if we ever bothered to put it on the air; we may have relegated it to "Oscar's Boutique," which was symbolized by a garbage can.

No wonder Timmy-Boy loves the stuff...he's just as tasteless.

Schlock describes his genre rather well. Rumor was that he had people doing a lot of the work, as he had to crank 'em out in large numbers. I'm not sure though.

Strange that the angelic peacefulness of the paintings were inversely proportional to his personality- wasn't he a raging alcoholic??

Died in his 50s of alcohol mixed with prescription drugs. He was looking for God. Other painters already found Him. And Warhol had Factory assistants screen and print some of his works, and one associate in particular signing them for him. I shouldn't be surprised if Picasso got to this point, as well as Dali.

I think even Michelangelo and other Renaissance painters had assistants, or students, who did a lot of the scut work for them.  I don't know exactly what portions, but Kinkade made most of his money by selling  gallery franchises to fellow believers...many of whom lost all their money because his crap has a limited market.

I never even cared much for Norman Rockwell's work; I don't recall him ever doing anything but an idealized all-white America.  But he was an illustrator...didn't try to pass himself off as a "serious artiste."  And there was sometimes humor in his Saturday Evening Post covers.

I would just never hang either man's stuff in my home, but I'm weird.  I have several signed prints by Stewart Moskowitz and Michael Bedard, And Frank Kelly Freas

(and a beautiful autumn sunset original watercolor by LaVere Hutchings.)

From the story, he seems to have been a rather tortured soul.  I've known highly religious people like this, sexually promiscuous, alcoholic, using drugs, and yet sanctimonious and passionate.  It's sort of like a bipolar disorder.  The people who I've known were really compelling - I wanted to do whatever they wanted. 

I googled on Kinkade's art.  Not wanting to be mean to a dead man, who lived by his talent.  But some of the paintings looked like paint-by-numbers products, and others looked like old book illustrations from the 1910s and 1920s or so.   Some of his paintings depict movie scenes - they look kind of high-schoolish.

Well, I once gave a jigsaw puzzle of one of his works to my parents.  They were of the Reader's Digest generation.  But they didn't care for it and never did the puzzle.

You know what they say, genius skips generations. :-) Pure kitsch. As said, schlock art. I wouldn't mind running into one at a thrift shop, though; probably sell online for $$$.

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