In light of all the recent information surrounding the inner workings of artist Thomas Kinkade, it should by now be apparent that this assumed purveyor of pollyannaish product was not as one dimensional as many critics might have suggested; there was indeed a darker current at work here. On a lighter note, may I dare say that Kinkade’s psychological approach was not unlike the late great Mattise in that the latter painted through a rose colored lens…of course the outcome was vastly different but technique and inventiveness aside; Kinkade was a troubled figure at bottom who decided to shelve all that dreary shit and accentuate the positive, to a fault even; but I do wonder -as have others- if this darker aura could have somehow seeped into all those delightfully banal paintings. If so, these things are shining examples of the contemporary existential dilemma. Future culture connoisseurs might even go so far as to view the works by Kinkade as postmodern suburban-domestic amulets; doing for the average American middle-class household what protection masks did for ancient tribal communities. Why not?...only time will tell.