My Kid Could Paint That!

When I first moved to Portland the local art scene was dominated by a 10,000 pound elephant of an artist named Rama.  Actually, Rama is an elephant, and while I do not begrudge him the thousands of dollars he’s earned from the sale of “his” paintings, I did find myself viewing the local art patronage with a good deal of contempt.  Firstly, elephants do not paint.  Ever.  People paint.  In the case of Rama, one Jeb Barsh, his trainer, is the actual artist, employing the rather unusual technique of applying cheap tempra delivered by means of elephant.  Jeb actually consulted with me on a technical issue (Rama couldn’t make it himself) and we discovered that, like another 10,000 pound elephantine artist, Rama had archival issues.  That’s right, if you own an original Rama it is likely to be vulnerable to the Rothko effect.  In my mind, Rama’s paintings most resemble the over-spray from an automobile paint booth, although some approach the vagueness of a late Alzheimer’s stage De Kooning.

    Can you guess which is the million dollar painting??

Now that the elephant fad is fading I find another disturbing trend in the national arts scene, which, sadly, involves the exploitation of adults by children.  Yet another generation of collectors and art patrons, tired, no doubt by their cracking and chipping elephant art, are now rushing to buy up the work of toddlers. 

I recently watched My Kid Could Paint That!  a documentary about a 4 year old abstract painter named Marla Olmstead .  (Is there any other kind of 4 year old painter besides abstract?)  Other than the disturbing fact that a 4 year old ( now 8) has her own web site (visit)  I was most disturbed by her parents, one for letting their child get lathered up in acrylic paint, and secondly for keeping the poor kid on a production schedule to meet the demands of her adoring public.    Parents should remember that acrylic = plastic, which is bad.  Your kid is going to be exposed to enough plastic in their lifetime that you really shouldn’t bath them in Liquitex.  For once I was grateful that we didn’t have a product placement.  The documentary leaves it somewhat in doubt whether dad had a little more hand in the prodigies paintings than collectors might be comfortable with, but my feelings ran a little more on line with what kind of lousy dad wouldn’t help his kid with a painting? “Daddy, you paint a face.”  “For goodness sake little Pablo, if I touch it it will be worthless!” 

Evidently there is a child art prodigy - Akiane  - who paints in a non-abstract, representational manner.  She has appeared on Oprah! (Exclamation point hers) which means she must be really, really important.  No doubt she is a sweet girl, but having just toured a wonderful, independent art school, I can assure you her work is no better than that of any well taught child.  That would seem to be the entire problem, that the arts are so neglected in our education curricula that any child showing the least bit of development is hailed as a genius.  It is not that children cannot create interesting or beautiful art - they do it all the time.  And any reasonably intelligent child can be taught to create accurate, representational images, as shown by instructors like Betty Edwards in her book Drawing on the Right side of the Brain.  The problem is the same one that prevails in music, as evinced by shows such as American Idol.  One is not a great, artistic singer simply by hitting the right notes.  If that were the case then Bob Dylan would have never had a career.  Just as in music, the greatest visual artist is not the one who can most accurately reproduce an existing image, but one who can slide around the notes, altering things in such a way that they become alive.  To do so always takes some living.  Sorry kids.

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