narcissism – The Social Critic

There is something attractive about defrocking a figure of faith-and-family-values virtue, particularly one of great commercial success who has endeared himself to an endangered minority: the American middle class. The late Thomas Kinkade, who died of unnamed causes Friday, made an easy target. The self-anointed “painter of light” specialized in idealized scenes hearkening to a more innocent and bucolic time. Such art might be expected from a pastor’s wife or a bookish introvert yet it was the high degree of contrast between the artist’s placid and peaceable imagery and his real-world foibles and flaws that made him an irresistible subject for personal and artistic attack.

In the wake of Kinkade’s untimely death at age 54, the Los Angeles Times rehashed a 2006 exposé in which the painter was portrayed as a drunken, ruthless and foulmouthed hypocrite. Whatever one may believe about the man, the art world has stood firm about his vision: Kinkade is a commercial success but his paintings do not merit creative or historic memory.

Kinkade’s artistic legacy is as much in question as his personal one.

The flurry of reader comments and criticisms at the news of Kinkade’s death belies the ire of Kinkade’s many collectors and fans, befuddled that the art world has yet to embrace the prolific painter as one of their own. And it brings into sharp focus the growing disparity — and the unresolved debate — between what the public buys and the critics praise. Andy Warhol was and is an immense commercial success. Clearly it is not the act of being wildly successful that makes an artist a pariah. Rather, it is Kinkade’s idyllic vision that rankles the art world elite. Somewhere the meme took hold: paint something inscrutable or obtuse — a Rorschach test on canvas — then and only then does it possess merit in the contemporary context. It was only a matter of time before the self-taught, folk artists and mainstream “populists” fell out of favor.

Even among casual onlookers the aesthetic battle lines are well established. Art enthusiasts and collectors who fancy themselves “in the know” mimic the art world’s shock and disdain at those who dare defy the convention that one must be wholly unconventional — perhaps even emotionally disturbed — to enjoy critical acclaim. All the while, consumers who enjoy art from the gut rather than the head continue to ask why art critics are so very, very harsh. Indeed, there is something to the question to be asked.

The fine art world has successfully indoctrinated would-be artists and the culture at large: Artistic themes that portray a simplicity a child can appreciate don’t constitute “art”. Themes that favor innocence over angst don’t merit discussion. Depictions of widely-held ideals over cynical self-revelation are unworthy. Even the time-honored practice in which artists interpret the social issues of the times are in short supply. The Great Recession, and the 21st Century in particular, is notable thus far precisely for how little the arts and entertainment community has managed to reflect or acknowledge a faltering American Dream nor a social criticism of globalization at large. Instead, art critics and creators-of-the-moment exude the idiosyncratic and the narcissistic. And therein lies the “Kinkade paradox”: the esoteric, quirky and self-preoccupied art that is championed for its creative singularity carries an equal albeit opposite potential to be culturally out of touch — if reinterpreting the “real world” through a myopic lens is in fact the sanctioned goal.

The emotive loss of color and character within the art community is a loss to each and every one of us. For every wall of conformity that goes up, diversity goes down.

Art, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. The market spoke and the market liked Kinkade. The art world elite have done more than spur a debate. For years, generations even, they have kept a lot of creative people in jobs they have even less talent for because the thought of going up against non-art creating critics and cutthroat collectors and curators offends the sensibilities of sensitive, creative or contrarian individuals.

This is how the creation of art becomes a closeted pastime. This is how art is abandoned in childhood, in dumpsters and in storage lockers, too.

More people should be invited to partake of art, not fewer. Nothing could be further from the aim of creative expression than to place aspiring creators in a box consisting of a “right” and a “wrong” way to go about pursuing a personal form of expression. The art world has been dominated far too long by cultural snobs and professional critics who have erected academic dogmas and creative doctrines, who have codified styles and themes — quashing the pure and simple joys of creative expression and aesthetic appreciation. If the art of Thomas Kinkade translated to the masses an appreciation for beauty, the painter has, in fact, invited and inspired more people to appreciate that which only the imagination can conceive.

If anything can be gained from Kinkade’s lifework, it ought to be the art world’s willingness to see itself in a new and more honest light.

Art is not what someone says it is — or isn’t. Art is about people. By people. For people.

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RESOURCES

Thomas Kinkade, Painter for the Masses, Dies at 54 | NYT

Painting, Still Lively in the 21st Century | NYT

Where Are Today’s Steinbecks? | BBC News

What does talk show host Oprah Winfrey, psychologist Dr. Wayne W. Dyer, medium James Van Praagh and “The Secret” author Rhonda Byrne share in common?

A belief that what you get out of life depends on how you think about life.

It seems straightforward enough. Empowering, even. Unfortunately, it isn’t quite that simple.

Have you ever found yourself wondering if there’s too much ego attached to this trendy philosophy? Or what to make of its logical inverse: that victims are self victimizing?

It’s no surprise, really. Those who are successful seek out a self-affirming explanation for their success. A successful individual may look around and see plenty of people with great potential who nonetheless never seemed to get it right. So what was the deciding factor? Talent? Persistence? Intellect? Good looks? A great attitude? Good timing? The right set of parents? Birthplace? A superior education? Friends in high places?

Out of all the possible explanations — perhaps luck (destiny), preparedness (talent), or persistence (dedication) — how many times does it seem even modestly successful individuals adopt seemingly self-congratulatory explanations, concluding, “I maintained a positive (better) attitude”, or “God has blessed me because I have been faithful”, or “I sent good karma out into the world, and it returned to me in spades”?

Whereas ancient man comprehended his own frailty in the face of a brutal natural world, modern man believes in choice over fate, and self confidence over faith. Insulated within the relative safety of our man-made environments, we feel largely invincible. Going from a victim of the whims of the gods to a victorious Creator certainly holds a certain attraction. We are no longer helpless in the hand of fate, for the only destiny is the one we create.

Over the past 40-some years, however, a darker side to the man-as-god mythology has emerged. The same perception of control that inspires a successful individual, forms a motivation to assign blame. “Negative” and “lazy” become character descriptions for those who do not validate another’s perceived sense of order in the universe (control). This attitude doesn’t merely trickle from the top down, either. An unsuccessful individual may brand him- or herself as one’s own worst enemy — the primary cause of one’s adversity. Such an individual may spend years in therapy attempting to negate the innate genetic, biochemical and personality characteristics that make him or her unique.

In a world that holds there are no victims, only self saboteurs, it is easy to embark on a path of self doubt and criticism for one’s perceived lack of willpower (control). This negative self-determination carries weight because it implies the power of choice. If we made some aspect of our lives go wrong via wrong thinking or wrong choices, we can make all right with the world through right thinking and right decision making. We prefer this viewpoint because if circumstances are deemed outside our control, we are forced to confront unvarnished reality: Control is largely illusory.

At one time, American culture tempered emerging New Age assumptions with levelheaded reminders that we are not captains of destiny. The Serenity Prayer, which became a fixture in the 12-step recovery movement, reminds us that we need a higher power to show us the difference between that which we can influence, and that which is beyond our control. Scripture, likewise, deals with this same question, for it is an age-old concern:

“As Jesus went along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, ‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?’ ‘Neither this man nor his parents sinned,’ said Jesus, ‘but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life,'” (John 9:1-3).

Here we see an example of Jesus teaching that in our frailty, God’s glory, grace and power shines. But in New Age parlance — and, tellingly, even from prominent megachurch pulpits — we learn to measure God’s love with a yardstick that is almost entirely dependent on outward measures of success (abundance — physical, financial and social). Year after year, these false promises are repackaged and re-branded by one talk show guest and bestselling author after another, who in so doing profits handsomely from this self-as-center-of-universe ideology. It is, after all, what the narcissist within each of us wants to hear.

What gives these half-truths such staying power in American culture?

As someone who spent a number of years in the book business, I can venture an educated guess: Books that postulate that there is less order and more chaos fail in the marketplace. After all, the type of people who are likely to seek out and read self help books are typically those who believe that the truth is “out there”. They believe they can find answers in a book, a religion, a philosophy. When at last they connect with an articulate author’s prose, the crowing revelation is that of self as judge, jury and, ultimately, God. Readers aren’t looking to be reminded that the answers to life’s biggest questions are rarely contained in a $15 paperback, or that cultivating a mentality of control may lead to more suffering than success.

Revered author Ralph Waldo Emerson — perhaps because of his success — also advanced this half-baked philosophy:

“Shallow men believe in luck, believe in circumstances — it was somebody’s name, or he happened to be there at the time, or it was so then, and another day would have been otherwise. Strong men believe in cause and effect.”

While the principle of cause-and-effect is by no means entirely false, it is most often observed within the confines of a scientific laboratory. Boiling complex social, spiritual and interpersonal realities down to a question of input vs. output is an outgrowth of the Industrial Revolution and the Scientific Age, not the real-world complexities that humans have been grappling with on this planet for millions of years. The child receiving cancer treatment didn’t “choose” his or her illness. The parents who agonize over a drug- or alcohol-abusing child are not necessarily the cause. The fellow who was injured on the job and struggled to get himself back together cannot be written off as someone lacking in ambition or a solid work ethic. The doctor who is sued for malpractice is not necessarily an incompetent practitioner. The overweight woman at church may not be a couch potato.

A desire to project ourselves into circumstances where others are neither to blame nor congratulate seems innate. But ancient sources of wisdom paint a more restrained picture. A biblical proverb states “Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails” (Pr 19:21). Another says, “In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps” (Pr 16:9).

Scripture confirms the idea that life is not fair, and may never be fair no matter how much we struggle to maintain the idea that the universe merely reflects our own intentions. Rather, “He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous,” (MT 5:45).

An odd anecdote from the life of the late trance-medium Edgar Cayce backs the biblical concept of fate.

“One day in a large city I entered a department store to do some shopping. I was on the sixth floor and rang for the elevator. While I was waiting for it I noticed some bright red sweaters, and thought I would like to look at them. However, I had signaled for the elevator, and when it came I stepped forward to enter it. It was almost filled with people, but suddenly I was repelled. The interior of the car, although well-lighted, seemed dark to me.

“Something was wrong. Before I could analyze my action I said, ‘Go ahead,’ to the operator, and stepped back. I went over to look at the sweaters, and then I realized what had made me uneasy. The people in the elevator had no auras. While I was examining the sweaters, which had attracted me by their bright red hues—the color of vigor and energy—the elevator cable snapped, the car fell to the basement, and all the occupants were killed.”

Does this sound like a simple case of cause-and-effect? Were the people trapped in that elevator any more deserving or selective of their tragic destiny than the blind man in Jesus’ day whose friends and neighbors presumed a sin on the part of his parents?

Perhaps the strongest “cause” for any form of success is persistence. But persistence doesn’t necessarily correlate with greater intellect, greater talent, better looks or a better attitude that somehow entitles one individual to more “open doors” than another. So rather than allowing popular philosophy to create an insalubrious expectation that one can or should be able control outcomes — an assumption that parallels the meteoric rise in antidepressants, ADHD medications and all manner of costly prescription and illicit coping aids alike — it is time we make our peace with the counterintuitive.

Let go.

The idea that we can or should live a charmed life if only we project the right set of intentions backed by the appropriate thought process is insidiously toxic. It breeds arrogance among the elite and self doubt among those who have applied such principles only to realize that the Universe does not revolve around, nor faithfully reflect, them. Accepting the reality that good things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good people may not seem all that comforting, and it certainly won’t sell any books or self-help seminars. Yet acknowledging that the mysteries of life are more numerous than the answers is strangely liberating. Letting go allows us to make peace with an awe-inspiring aspect of life that might otherwise tear at our morale. Only when we remain humble — but for the grace of God there go I — do we allow gratitude, awe, contentment and compassion to heal our relationship with God, ourselves and others. For unlike Eastern philosophies born of gurus who retreated to the solitude of the wilderness, humility will stand beside us amidst our hectic, distracting, and unpredictable contemporary lives.

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