Bowing to value

Yesterday Emily Moore wrote, "Recently I have been admitting
that the bottom line is 'light, middle and dark.' I resisted
the importance of value over color for a long time, but I have
succumbed. Bowing to value can liberate color options, so color
can waltz in the back door and right on down to the front row
while value is being courted at the front door."

Thanks, Emily. Nice way of putting it. Better work happens when
we're able to keep both dancers on the floor at the same time.
True, most of us need to think of tone value before we think of
colour. Here are a few thoughts:

Work with large and small patches or areas of tone.
Particularly at the beginning, consciously avoid colour. Make
sure there's an abundance of middle tones. A photographer's
gray-scale is a surprisingly handy tool. By emphasizing middle
tones you'll find it easier to find your darker and lighter
ones. Here is a tried and true academic sequence: middle tone,
darker dark, lighter light, darkest dark, lightest light. Don't
be afraid of basic and simple palettes. A lot can be done with
the likes of umber, ultra blue and white. Tones of grey--even
those made with black--can give suggestions for colours that
might follow later. A great exercise is "grisaille," where the
composition is laid down and nearly completed in monotone. If
it works in monotone, it'll certainly work in colour. Colour,
in the grisaille system, is applied last--often with
transparent glazes. In the event that a colour begins to
dominate, as some tend to do, half close your eyes to see
what's going on, and make adjustments. If you don't like
squinting, a quick black and white photocopy can often show you
where the problems lie. Paintings go best when you think of the
whole exercise as a "set-up." The lightest lights, in
particular, need to be kept in the quiver for the final shots.

"I don't like working this way because it doesn't seem
natural--it's not as expressive," said a student in a friend's
workshop. We are living in an age of expressiveness where
individualism and quick satisfaction are in style. I like to
point out that many seemingly dated processes, when learned and
pocketed, are really a key to growth. For many of us, these
academic processes may hold an even greater potential for
expression. A lot of lovely waltzing got started with a few
stiff black and white step-marks painted on an old studio
floor.

Best regards,

Robert

PS: "If you have used colour throughout most of your artistic
life, try just black and white. It will take your painting to
another dimension where tone and form in all their permutations
reign supreme." (David Louis)

Esoterica: "Think value first, then colour," says water-media
educator Carl Purcell in "Painting with your Artist's Brain."
If a painting is turning out to be dull and uninteresting,
throwing on some bright colours is not the solution. If values
are poorly planned, no amount of colour will fix things up.
"Good colour is key to the success of any painting, but a
well-executed value plan is what will captivate your viewers."
(Carl Purcell)

Tales from the Crit

Hard to comprehend that today is the last day of the semester from hell for me, but indeed it is, and what a glorious day!
It was a wild ride, and it will be so nice to sleep in a bit later rather than wake up at 5 a.m., to maybe clean my house and watch a few dvds rather than work from sunup to sundown 7 days a week, for a few weeks at least, until the summer humanities classes I have registered for begin.
I think I have done well, still keeping my fingers crossed on my two big philosophy classes. I have a final video crit today at 1:00 and then a final exam in Dr. Todd's Western Intellectual History class, I have had little time to study for it, hopefully 15 weeks of attention and notetaking will magically flutter out of my brain tonight for this final exam.

Tomorrow is predicted to be a sunny day with temperatures in the mid 70's. Bring on the margarita's, bare feet and lounging on lake Washington in the boat :) I might even pick up a few geraniums for the deck.

It's been a great semester, I've worked like a dog, produced some decent work and have lots of ideas to spring board from over many disciplines and have deepened friendships with many talented artists. Life is good.

/big sigh of relief


Tales From the Crit: For Art Students, May Is the Cruelest Month
Micah Ganske

By JORI FINKEL
Published: April 30, 2006
AN early scene in "Art School Confidential," a movie by Terry Zwigoff and Daniel Clowes that opens Friday, shows a classroom of students analyzing one another's drawings. It takes less than a minute for one character to burst into tears. Her name is Flower. And she has just received a withering comment from her classmate Jerome, played by Max Minghella: "It looks like a lame Cy Twombly imitation to me. It looks like she did it in about two minutes."

So goes another day in art school, complete with the emotionally and intellectually trying ritual known as the group crit, short for critique. A staple of master of fine arts programs, the group crit consists of a student showing finished work to professors and peers, who then question, interpret, analyze, contextualize and otherwise assess its intentions and effectiveness. It's why so many students across the country right now are holed up in their studios, putting the finishing touches on their paintings, drawings and installations, in time for their last reviews.

"It feels kind of like being on trial, and your work is the evidence," Titus Kaphar, a painting student, said earlier this month, just hours before the final critique of his last year at the graduate program at Yale. "A faculty member will basically say: 'So you say your work means this, but exhibit A shows that.' " (Mr. Kaphar sounded remarkably calm for someone heading to trial, perhaps because he had already faced great scrutiny for his participation in "School Days," the much-discussed show of student work earlier this semester at the Jack Tilton Gallery.)

May is the big month for final crits, which often involves several professors weighing in on work. But group crits led by a single professor also take place throughout the year. Depending on the school, a student may face one group crit a semester, or one every week or two. The frequency of individual crits, which essentially resemble studio visits from a professor, also varies widely.

So are there really tears? "It does happen on occasion," said Gareth James, chairman of the visual arts program at Columbia University in New York, "but we try to make sure we are not just handing down judgments. These conversations are really about trying to get inside the internal logic of a work."

Catherine Opie, who teaches photography at the University of California, Los Angeles, adds: "There are criers. Usually women, but I hate to say that because it's so stereotypical."

Some of the tears can be attributed to the competitive climate of today's leading art schools, which have become so instrumental to gallery success. But much of the pressure comes from the loaded psychodynamics of the group crit, a ritual with counterparts in drama, design and architecture programs as well.

For not only are students exposing themselves in public to negative comments about their art, which is presumably close to their hearts, but they are fielding these remarks from professors they generally respect and students they invariably know, perhaps too well.

"They are your friends, your enemies, your lovers, your peers," said Lynne Chann, who finishes her M.F.A. degree at Columbia in May. After one rough crit, she said, she couldn't work for a couple of weeks.

"Think about the general nightmare of standing nude in public," said the painter Lisa Yuskavage, who earned her degree in 1986 from Yale. "But add something else you fear, like standing nude on a scale."

She compares the process to a friend's training in the military. "My experience was a lot like her boot camp," she said. "Only in the military they break you down to build you back up into a team player who serves a leader. At Yale they break you down and leave you to put the pieces back together."

Becky Smith, who earned her Yale M.F.A. in 1998 and now runs Bellwether Gallery in Chelsea, has another analogy: "It's like a gladiator spectator sport. And yes, it can be traumatic."

It's no coincidence that Ms. Yuskavage and Ms. Smith both attended Yale during the original "pit crit" days, known for being particularly brutal. Until six years ago, the art school was housed with the architecture school in a concrete building by Paul Rudolph that students compared to a prison, with a courtyard in the center known as the pit. That's where students gathered for spirited peer reviews and for some of the more formal final critiques, which drew the entire art department as well as voyeurs from other schools on campus.

Ms. Smith remembers a crowd of maybe 75 people on good days. "One of the meanest crits I can remember was of Everest Hall, who did these teeny-tiny, precious oil-on-copper paintings, old-masters-style paintings of gay porn stars," she said. "Everyone tore it to shreds. They thought it was illustrative, manipulative. They didn't like the subject, and they didn't like the presentation." (The market apparently disagreed. When he later exhibited this work in New York, Ms. Smith said, it quickly sold out.)

Now Yale's art school has its own building, but it, too, has a pit. And the pit crits, though said to be less torturous, continue. "The philosophy here is that you shouldn't sugarcoat anything," Mr. Kaphar said. "I can't think of a more rigorous program anywhere."

One reason is the Conceptual artist Mel Bochner, on Yale's faculty since 1978, whom many students singled out for being particularly blunt. He is known for telling students whose grasp of art history seems thin to "go back to the library and start with A."

Mr. Bochner declined to be interviewed, but the photographer Gregory Crewdson, who has taught at Yale since 1995, tried to explain the educational rationale. Applying such pressure to a student's work, he said, is meant to help them gain the critical distance and vocabulary to analyze their own work, and ultimately improve it. He finds that photography critiques also help students to think in terms of groups of pictures, instead of just individual shots.

"The crits that I received were always devastating," said Mr. Crewdson, who earned his Yale M.F.A. in 1988. "The idea is that what doesn't break you will make you stronger. But I always tell my students to forget 99 percent of what they hear. Find that 1 percent that really helps you."

Mr. Crewdson compares the experience his students are facing to group therapy. "My father was a psychoanalyst, and I see a lot of similarities," he said. "The act of putting your pictures up on the wall involves a lot of trust, like sharing your personal history. And the whole thing can be very theatrical, very emotional." He likes to end his crits by heading across the street to a bar, so that everyone can unwind over a beer.

If Yale represents one model, U.C.L.A. offers another — or at least John Baldessari's course does. He has taught a popular crit seminar there for the last seven years, and earlier he introduced the first group crit to the California Institute of the Arts, or CalArts, in Valencia. In all that time, he has never seen tears in his class, "though I don't know what happens afterward," he joked.

"For me the group crits are really successful if I could walk out of the room" and the conversation continued, he said. "I see my role as being a good moderator or navigator."

Some say this is typical of group crits on the West Coast, which are known for being more relaxed. Thomas Lawson, a CalArts dean, argues that this is for the better. "The courses out here tend to have more student participation — more of a peer review process," he said. "On the East Coast there is still a lot of faculty grandstanding."

Several of Mr. Lawson's students agreed. "Generally the faculty will quietly, or subtly, direct the conversation to make sure we cover certain topics," Kaari Upson, a first-year student, said, "but there seems to be a respect for the M.F.A. students to drive the discussion."

The most famous critique course at CalArts is taught by the Conceptual artist Michael Asher, who is known for his discursive endurance. Once a week, he leads a detailed discussion of works by two or three students, beginning at 10 A.M. and sometimes running until 10 that night. ("I throw away the clock," he said.)

If the crit dynamic has not fundamentally changed over the last couple of decades, student awareness of the ritual — and the attendant horror stories — has grown. In fact, some students are making art about the critiques themselves, which they then cheekily submit for review.

Last semester at Columbia, Lynne Chan, a second-year M.F.A. student, staged a boxing match called "Big Crit Brawl," pitting student against student in a ring in her studio and playing hip-hop music to set the mood. The performance drew on her training in Thai kickboxing and also served as a pre-emptive strike, as the professors decided not to interrupt the event to critique it.

A couple of years ago at Hunter College, for his mid-program review, which is closed to students, Jules de Balincourt, an installation artist, built a tree-house-like structure in the school gallery. His act of resistance was to hide in the shelter and videotape the proceedings. Around the same time at Yale, Hein Koh made a painting that depicted an entire panel of professors reviewing her work. When it was hung in front of that very panel, it made one faculty member so uncomfortable that he changed seats.

Today on the Yale campus, students still speak of a 1995 painting by Hilary Harkness of Mr. Bochner, which depicts him naked, sliding down an icy slope, being sexually assaulted by a cow. The painting, she says, was her way of turning the tables.

"Mel is very smart and a very good critic," said Ms. Harkness, who now shows with Mary Boone in New York. "But he once said to me, 'If I saw your paintings in a window, I would walk right on by.' Maybe he meant that constructively, but it was hard to take that way."

Mr. Bochner's reaction to the scene with the cow? "He didn't want to discuss it," she recalled. "He said he didn't care for revenge paintings."

But silence, the student artists agreed, is very rarely the goal. The only thing worse than receiving a harsh critique is to make a work that gets no reaction at all, whether because the work does not find an audience or the audience does not find it worthy of contemplation. That, of course, mirrors the experience of many struggling artists after graduation, even in today's youth-obsessed market.

And that was also, it turns out, the classroom experience of Mr. Clowes, the graphic novelist who wrote the "Art School Confidential" screenplay after his comic of the same name, both of which were based on his undergraduate days in the early 1980's at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn. A cartoonist surrounded by fine artists, he felt neglected.

"Here I am spending hundreds of hours creating a narrative with words, while someone else puts a tampon in a teacup and calls it art, and all they can do is give me a lot of blank stares," he remembered. "The students were not interested, and my teachers were actively discouraging."

Did he get anything out of the critique process? "Nothing," Mr. Clowes said, before pausing to rethink the question. "Then again, I have a very contrary personality. The fact that nobody encouraged me may have helped in the long run. It probably helped me to feel like I was going in the right direction."

Great site

Found this site while doing research on Derrida. Fantastic informational site!

http://www.casavaria.com/sentido/about/sentido.htm

The Home Remedy

On Thursday afternoon Joe Blodgett and I were at the bird
sanctuary, chasing rainbows, walking Caravaggio and Dorothy. We
were talking about Dr. Oliver Sacks--the widely published
neurologist who has something to say about everything from
Alzheimer's to Zoroastrianism. Readers may remember his
observations of the calming and animating effects of art
exhibitions on mentally disturbed patients.

Joe knows my interest in the neurology of art. He told me that
while Dr. Sacks blurred science and art, he thought that his
studies of isolated peoples had shed light on the actions of
the creative mind. Current Art Therapy practice has certainly
been affected by his writings--and his ideas have implications
for active artists. Joe said that there was stuff going on
around our studios that could be just what the doctor ordered.
We came up with a few:

Focusing the mind on a higher purpose.
Exercising skills for sensitivity and understanding.
Employing idiosyncrasies and weaknesses for enrichment.
Blurring the area between reality and imagination.
Enduring monotony as the keys to freedom and action.
Yielding to and articulating the condition of isolation.
Making a contribution to the greater community.
Satisfying the inborn need for creation itself.
Attaching oneself to the miracles of nature.
Building of self-esteem by consecutive jobs well done.
Exploiting the richness of the childlike dreaming world.
Activating the mind to delay potential dementia.
Exercising the body through thought-gathering travel.
Making and sustaining friendships with interesting people.
Exercising the brain with bicameral interaction.
Building purpose-filled activity for joy of achievement.
Enhancing life through praise and appreciation.
Feeling of well-being derived from taking control.
Pacing work periods to suit individual capacity.
Seeking perfection in an imperfect world.

When we came to the place where the squirrels are, we let the
dogs run. It was an imperfect pursuit. We still had more studio
Sacksisms--all beginning with "ing" words. You'll notice that I
didn't mention the feeling of well-being that one gets from a
decent bank balance--the natural outcome of persistent labour.
Joe mentioned that. Sacks never did. The squirrels won.

Best regards,

Robert

PS: "For the past century, clinical neurology has looked at
illnesses, diseases, damages, abnormalities and the lower parts
of the nervous system. It is only just now beginning to address
itself to questions of sensibility, talent, skill, imagination,
dreaming and consciousness." (Dr. Oliver Sacks)

Esoterica: When artists enter their studios and begin to work,
they intuitively know that there is something deeper going
on--perhaps some sort of collective consciousness. We submit to
this mystery and the timelessness of our craft. For some of us
this understanding is the key to our feelings of well-being. By
implication, it may be the well-being of our planet.
"Creativity involves the depth of a mind, and many, many depths
of unconsciousness." (Dr. Oliver Sacks)

Abstract Art Title Generator

Having a hard time with a title for a work of art? Give this a whirl :)

http://www.noemata.net/pa/titlegen/

Economy of means

There's a question that pops into this inbox practically every
day: "How can I speed up my operation? I'm taking too long with
my work. I know I need to be more efficient, but I'm somehow
blocked."

Part of the problem for these folks is that they are often
non-professional in their approach. Also, they're not always
informed about methodology that has benefited creators since
Leonardo. Fact is, artists must constantly take stock of their
personal systems and their work habits, and, in an
inventor-like way, look for improvements. Those who thrive
professionally know this territory well. The bonus, they know,
is that economy of means leads to creative freshness. Sit back,
look at your work in progress, and, if desired, dig out
processes like the following:

Pre-mix frequently used colours and carry them from work to
work. Think through a logical order of application and
development. Think through the outcomes of your creative moves
in anticipation that they may be wrong. At the same time, train
yourself to get things more or less right on the first go.
Avoid repetitious workings in areas or passages--in other
words, get so you can put your strokes down and let them be.
Work out effective time-savers like making gradations by
glazing, rather than by incremental pigment adjustments.
Replace unsatisfactory colours by partly using the colour to be
replaced. Use obfuscation techniques, such as scumbling, to
give the appearance of "more going on." Avoid long lapses of
"busy work" such as brush cleaning, complex over-drawing,
redundant rendering and other time-burners. Beside your
standard tools, use alternate ones--rags, combs, sponges,
scrapers, wild goose feathers, etc. Simplify where simplicity
is appropriate. Catch yourself when you're up to your old delay
tactics and avoidance games.

A few weeks ago I was stricken by a peculiar affliction that
interfered with my economy of means. I was pacing back and
forth a lot. I had rationalized that it was part of the
planning and thinking process mentioned above. But it was
really just a non-professional avoidance activity. Then I had a
wee breakthrough. It was to "leave that part out." I closed
down the pacing department. Leaving parts out is one of the
keys to economy of means. Think ahead and do what you can, when
you can--and you'll keep on doing. Good stuff automatically
comes along to fill in the blanks.

Best regards,

Robert

PS: "One can have no smaller or greater mastery than mastery of
oneself." (Leonardo da Vinci)

Esoterica: While there's a correct way to remove an appendix,
there is no correct way to make a work of art. That's what's
nice about our business. Every one of us has unique--even
devious--ways that we make things happen. It's called
"process." Making improvements to your personal process is a
saw-off. Half of it is learning what someone like Leonardo
would do. The other half is figuring out what you can do. On
both fronts, the success of your quest is a measure of your
spirit. "Where the spirit does not work with the hand there is
no art." (Leonardo da Vinci)

Dark Portrait of a 'Painter of Light'

Christian-themed artist Thomas Kinkade is accused of ruthless tactics and seamy personal conduct. He disputes the allegations.
By Kim Christensen, Times Staff Writer
March 5, 2006


Thomas Kinkade is famous for his luminous landscapes and street scenes, those dreamy, deliberately inspirational images he says have brought "God's light" into people's lives, even as they have made him one of America's most collected artists.

A devout Christian who calls himself the "Painter of Light," Kinkade trades heavily on his beliefs and says God has guided his brush — and his life — for the last 20 years.


"When I got saved, God became my art agent," he said in a 2004 video biography, genteel in tone and rich in the themes of faith and family values that have helped win him legions of fans, albeit few among art critics.

But some former Kinkade employees, gallery operators and others contend that the Painter of Light has a decidedly dark side.

In litigation and interviews with the Los Angeles Times, some former gallery owners depict Kinkade, 48, as a ruthless businessman who drove them to financial ruin at the same time he was fattening his business associates' bank accounts and feathering his nest with tens of millions of dollars.

Kinkade — whose solely owned Thomas Kinkade Co. is based in Morgan Hill, Calif. — denies these allegations.

Last month, however, a three-member panel of the American Arbitration Assn. ordered his company to pay $860,000 for defrauding the former owners of two failed Virginia galleries. That decision marks the first major legal setback for Kinkade, who won three previous arbitration claims. Five more are pending.

It's not just Kinkade's business practices that have been called into question. Former gallery owners, ex-employees and others say his personal behavior also belies the wholesome image on which he's built his empire.

In sworn testimony and interviews, they recount incidents in which an allegedly drunken Kinkade heckled illusionists Siegfried & Roy in Las Vegas, cursed a former employee's wife who came to his aid when he fell off a barstool, and palmed a startled woman's breasts at a signing party in South Bend, Ind.

And then there is Kinkade's proclivity for "ritual territory marking," as he called it, which allegedly manifested itself in the late 1990s outside the Disneyland Hotel in Anaheim.

"This one's for you, Walt," the artist quipped late one night as he urinated on a Winnie the Pooh figure, said Terry Sheppard, a former vice president for Kinkade's company, in an interview.

Kinkade declined The Times' request for an interview but responded to written questions. He labeled those accounts of his personal behavior as "ridiculous" and "crazy allegations."

The artist and his lawyer, Dana Levitt, contend that Sheppard, a key witness in the arbitration cases against Kinkade and his company, is a disgruntled ex-employee, noting that he lost a wrongful termination claim against the artist's charitable foundations in 2004. They also deny the ex-dealers' allegations, which they say are driven by "lawyers playing the litigation lottery" and are "uncoupled from reality."

Kinkade, a self-described product of a broken home and a hardscrabble childhood, once worked as a film animator and hawked his paintings at supermarket parking lots in his hometown of Placerville, Calif. His climb to fame began two decades ago, when he and his wife spent their life savings to start making his prints.

Since then, Kinkade has spun a hugely lucrative career from his distinctly romantic, idealized images of street scenes, lighthouses, country cottages and landscapes. It is a world without sharp edges, all warm and fuzzily aglow with setting suns and streetlights and luminescent windows.

Critics have described Kinkade's works — with titles such as "Sunset on Lamplight Lane" and "The Garden of Prayer" — as little more than mass-produced kitsch. But that has not deterred the multitudes who pay from a few hundred dollars for paper prints to $10,000 or more for canvas editions he has signed and retouched.

"It's mainstream art, not art you have to look at to try to understand, or have an art degree to know whether it's good or not," said Mike Koligman, a longtime fan who with his wife owns Kinkade galleries in San Diego and Utah.

Karen de la Carriere feels the same way. Framed Kinkades fill her living room walls and have transformed a long hallway into a veritable gantlet of glowing lithographs. Kinkade's art is both a personal passion and a business for the Los Angeles resident, who deals in the resale market for Kinkades, selling more than $25,000 of his works each month on eBay and her website.

"This is God-given talent," she said of a favored print, "Sierra Evening Majesty," with its snowy peaks, red-gold skies and smoke wisping from a cabin chimney. "He is a modern-day Leonardo da Vinci or Monet. There is no one in our generation who can paint like that."

Nor many who make the money he does.

From 1997 through May 2005, Kinkade reaped more than $50 million in royalties from his prints and licensed product lines, according to testimony in the recently decided arbitration case. His images adorn air fresheners, night lights, teddy bears, toys, tote bags, pillows, umbrellas and La-Z-Boy loungers, which one retailer's ad describes as "something not merely to be acquired, but collected — like fine art itself."

As he built his brand, Kinkade also came to embody its underlying themes of faith, family and life's blessings. He speaks lovingly of his childhood sweetheart, Nanette — whom he married in 1982 — and their four daughters, calling his family "my proudest achievement in life."

Often, he embeds their initials or images in his paintings. Sometimes he joins them there.

"There's Thom on his Harley," a saleswoman at one of the original Kinkade galleries, on Monterey's Cannery Row, said as she showed a visitor a print of "San Francisco, Lombard Street." Hanging nearby was "New York, Fifth Avenue," with Thom and one of his daughters in a '57 Chevy convertible.

Such whimsy illustrates the lighter side of the Kinkade his supporters say is genial and genuine, a "regular guy" with small-town roots. He also has raised millions for charities, including the Salvation Army and Make-A-Wish Foundation.

But a far more selfish portrait of the artist emerges from legal action brought by former gallery owners against Kinkade, Media Arts Group Inc. — the public company he has since taken private — and some who helped build it into a $250-million-a-year retail juggernaut before its sales flagged and its stock tanked.

Ex-dealers allege that the artist used his faith — and manipulated theirs — to induce them to invest in Thomas Kinkade Signature Galleries, independently owned stores licensed to deal exclusively in his work. They also contend he sought to devalue the company before buying it back two years ago for $32.7 million, renaming it Thomas Kinkade Co.

Company executives and lawyers contend that a steep drop in the number of Signature galleries, which have dwindled to fewer than half of the 350 that once existed, is a result of a broad decline in the limited-edition art business, hastened by the dot-com crash, a shrinking economy and the Sept. 11 attacks.

"Many dealers had the ability to weather the effects of the recession; some dealers did not," said Chief Executive Dan Byrne.

But such arguments failed to persuade the arbitration panel, which on Feb. 23 ruled in favor of the former Virginia gallery owners, Karen Hazlewood and Jeffrey Spinello.

The panel found that the company and one of its executives, Richard F. Barnett, defrauded the couple by failing to disclose pertinent information that would have dissuaded them from investing $122,000 to open the first of their two galleries in 1999.

The interim award of $860,000, based on a decision that Kinkade's lawyer said he would seek to void, could quadruple when interest, legal fees and other costs are added, said the former dealers' Michigan lawyer, Norman Yatooma, whose firm is also handling the five pending arbitration claims.

Kinkade himself has been dismissed from the Hazlewood-Spinello claim, so obligation for payment of the award would fall to his solely owned company, and to Barnett, said Yatooma's associate, Joseph Ejbeh.

Though the panel did not single out the artist in its fraud finding, it wrote that he and other Media Arts Group executives had created "a certain religious environment designed to instill a special relationship of trust" with the couple, who have since divorced. The company, communicating through Kinkade and the others, often used terms such as "partner," "trust," "Christian" and "God" to convey a sense of "higher calling," the panel wrote.

Although Kinkade has said he does not market specifically to Christians, his limited-edition canvas prints bear the familiar Christian fish symbol and are inscribed with a biblical reference, "John 3:16." He also is fond of quoting Matthew 5:16 — "Let your light shine before men" — at times sounding more evangelist than artist.

"I love to talk about my faith," he said in a deposition. "I try to embrace people with love, unconditional love, like Christ did."

Former dealer Jim Cote said he was hard-pressed to feel the love. He has filed an arbitration claim, alleging among other things that he was a victim of Media Arts Group's pressure to saturate the market.

"In the beginning it was fine," said Cote, of Birmingham, Mich., who opened his first Signature gallery in 1996. "Sales were great because Thom at that point was very popular and there were limited outlets to buy his art."

But as time went on, Cote alleges, Media Arts Group pushed him to open more galleries, threatening to set up its own outlets in his territory. Cote eventually had three stores, all of which failed.

"This is not bread and milk," he said. "You can't have galleries on every corner."

Cote said his net worth of more than $3 million had been erased. Gone are his marriage, his house and most of his possessions. He doesn't blame his divorce entirely on his galleries' failure, he said, but "it certainly didn't help."

He shut his last store in December and has filed for bankruptcy protection.

"At this point, I've got a dog and an apartment, and that's it," Cote said. "This is not where I thought I'd be at 56."

Kinkade's lawyers deny Cote's allegations.

As Hazlewood, Spinello, Cote and other Signature gallery owners were faltering, the company's stock plummeted from a high of nearly $25 a share to less than $3. Former dealers allege that Kinkade allowed them to sink in order to drive down the stock price, so he could buy back the company at a bargain basement price — a charge the artist and his lawyer said was absurd.

"There was no conspiracy to shoot ourselves in the foot," Kinkade testified in the arbitration case that was just decided. "Nobody wanted to hurt the dealers."

Kinkade, who co-founded the company as Lightpost Publishing in 1989 and took it public in 1994, bought it back in 2004 for $4 a share. Investors who had put their faith and their fortunes in the Painter of Light — a moniker he trademarked — were left holding a mostly empty bag.

"I took a bloodbath, an absolute bloodbath," said De la Carriere, the Los Angeles art dealer, who said she invested her inheritance in Media Arts Group stock at more than $20 a share.

But even as the company ran aground, Kinkade and others in top positions prospered, according to testimony.

From 1997 through May 2005, Kinkade earned $53 million for his work, the company's assistant controller testified. That figure includes $11.8 million from top-of-the-line "studio proofs," small-edition canvas prints that Kinkade personally retouched, or "highlighted"— with as much as 65% of the profit going to him.

Kinkade wasn't the only one who got rich.

Barnett, then head of retail sales and now an executive vice president, also made millions as the Signature galleries were failing. Unbeknownst to the dealers, he reaped commissions on all art sold to them at wholesale, averaging more than $2 million a year for 1999, 2000 and 2001, according to testimony.

The arbitration panel found that the company and Barnett, who ran a training program for prospective gallery owners known as Thomas Kinkade University, "painted an unrealistic and misleading picture of the prospects for success" and never warned potential investors of the inherent risks.

"We were told success story after success story, and of course the 'Thom story' and his Christian views and the way he runs his life," Spinello told the arbitration panel in late 2004.

Just as it has revealed the inner workings of Kinkade's business, the dealer litigation also has delved into his personal conduct, which witnesses testified was often at odds with the God-fearing image he projected.

In testimony and interviews with The Times, Sheppard and other former employees said they often went with Kinkade to strip clubs and bars, where he frequently became intoxicated and out of control.

John Dandois, Media Arts Group's senior director of retail operations from 1995 to 1999, testified in a hearing that the artist was a sort of Jekyll-and-Hyde character, whose behavior worsened as the alcohol flowed.

"Thom would be fine, he would be drinking, and then all of a sudden, you couldn't tell where the boundary was," he said. "And then he became very incoherent, and he would start cussing and doing a lot of weird stuff."

Dandois, who left the company to become chief executive of a group of galleries owned by Kinkade's brother, Patrick, recounted that about six years ago the artist was so intoxicated during a performance by Siegfried & Roy in Las Vegas that people seated nearby moved away from him.

"I think it was Roy or Siegfried or whatever had a codpiece in his leotards," Dandois testified. "And so when the show started, Thom just started yelling, 'Codpiece, codpiece,' and had to be quieted by his mother and Nanette."

At other times, Kinkade could be downright nasty, Dandois testified, recalling an incident in which Dandois' wife tried to help the allegedly inebriated artist to his feet in a bar.

"He had been falling down, and he fell off the stool, and he was laying on the ground and just looked up at her and flipped her the bird and told her, you know, just to 'F you' several times," Dandois testified.

In an interview, Sheppard, who often accompanied Kinkade on the road, recounted a trip to Orange County in the late 1990s for the artist's appearance on the "Hour of Power" television show at the Crystal Cathedral in Garden Grove. On the eve of the broadcast, Sheppard said, he and Kinkade returned to the Disneyland Hotel after a night of heavy drinking. As they walked to their rooms, according to Sheppard and another person who was there, Kinkade veered toward a nearby figure of a Disney character.

"Thom wanders over to Winnie the Pooh and decides to 'mark his territory,' " Sheppard told The Times.

In a deposition, the artist alluded to his practice of urinating outdoors, saying he "grew up in the country" where it was common. When pressed about allegedly relieving himself in a hotel elevator in Las Vegas, Kinkade said it might have happened.

"There may have been some ritual territory marking going on, but I don't recall it," he said.

Kinkade's memory also was fuzzy when he was asked during the arbitration proceedings about a signing party in Indiana that went awry in August 2002.

Held at a South Bend hotel, the party began sedately enough as Kinkade met with a group of Signature gallery owners to sign stacks of prints. Some who were there say it was a goodwill gesture by the artist to smooth relations with dealers, who could sell the signed pieces at a premium.

After the larger group dispersed, Kinkade and others moved to a smaller room for a private signing with Michigan gallery owner Cote and some of his employees. Champagne was served, then hard liquor. By various accounts, most of the partyers overindulged, including Kinkade and Cote.

At one point, according to testimony and interviews with Cote and three others who were there, Kinkade polled the men in the room about their preferences in women's anatomies.

"He was having a conversation with the men in the room about whether they like breasts or butts," said Lori Kopec, Cote's director of gallery operations, who also testified about the party. "There were only two women in the room, and I was very uncomfortable at that point."

It was during that bawdy discussion, according to arbitration records, that Kinkade turned his attention to the other woman.

"He approached [her] and he palmed her breasts and he said, 'These are great tits!' " Ernie Dodson, another Cote employee, told The Times, adding that he drank no alcohol that night. "I was just standing in the corner in amazement. It was like, holy cow!"

The woman whom Kinkade allegedly fondled confirmed to The Times that he touched her breasts without her consent. She spoke on condition of anonymity, saying she was embarrassed and concerned for her family's privacy.

Cote and Kopec said they also saw the alleged groping.

"She let out a yelp and backed away," Kopec said. "That's when I knew he had actually touched her."

Kinkade testified in a deposition that excessive drinking and "some normal rowdy talk" had taken place, but when confronted with the groping allegation, he denied touching the woman.

"But you've got to remember," he said, "I'm the idol to these women who are there. They sell my work every day, you know. They're enamored with any attention I would give them. I don't know what kind of flirting they were trying to do with me. I don't recall what was going on that night."

In response to The Times' written questions, Kinkade did not address any specific incident.

"It does disappoint me when people I have tried to help and befriend make crazy allegations about me," he said. "I am a big fan of imagination, but the specific allegations you have described to me are ridiculous and I feel like the victim of a legal stalker."

He described himself as "an average, hard-working guy who just happens to be a famous artist" and said he didn't take himself too seriously.

In the recent arbitration case, he also testified that he had never claimed to be perfect.

"Book of Ecclesiastes says enjoy yourself, have a glass of wine, for this is God's will for you," he said. "It's never consistent with God's will that we behave in a sinful way; however, God also loves us and accepts us and understands that at times we have our failings."