Vanity Fair Article- Jack Vettriano

Back in April I wrote about Jack Vettriano and "The Singing Butler".  Remember the painting?  Amy Fine Collins wrote an article about him in the latest issue of Vanity Fair and I thought I would share a little more about the artist.  Thank you to the author for this extra info! 

I mentioned that his paintings have been widely criticized for being "nothing but soft porn" or "brainless erotica" and this still hasn't changed.  The critics are still scratching their heads and trying to figure out why people love these paintings. 

Collins says that playwrights send the 60-year-old former coal miner scripts based on his paintings.  People from all over have gotten sentimental about them.  Experts say that people are probably just nostalgic about an era when men and women were more refined.  Vettriano thinks that people enjoy an uplifting fantasy.  I tend to agree.  I know that I wrote about the painting because I liked the fact that the woman wasn't concerned about ruining her dress or hair.  I thought that the whole dancing on the beach with a man in a tux thing was extremely romantic.  In my opinion, we are all tired of how crappy and mundane our real love lives are.  When we look at an image that isn't porn but romantic and sexy, we wish it were us. 

Vettriano is known as "the people's painter" in England and doesn't mind sharing his fetishes with the world.  He says that he loves voluptuous brunettes and that "blondes have too much sweetness".  Blondes are sweet?  I guess so?  That’s interesting.  What the hell is wrong with sweet?  Anyway, he loves painting thick eyelashes, earlobes, necks, and glossy lips and nails rather than a woman's chest or backside. 

I think that the critics are pretentious.  It isn’t like he is painting stick people.  They are just pissed because he taught himself how to paint at the age of 22; he was a coal miner with no formal training.  People didn’t like Picasso either.  And really?  How can you walk through the modern wing of an art museum and then have the nerve to knock this guy?  Last time I was at the High Museum of Art I saw a rubber duck hanging from a string from the ceiling and I was very confused because it was called a piece of “art”.  Come on.  Are you kidding me?  What this tells me is that I could paint a red triangle on a canvas and blah blah blah about it having deep meaning and it would be called art.  The critics should get a life. 

Paint me on the beach in a red dress any time, Vettriano…..except I’m blonde.  I guess I’m too sweet for you.


 Let's look at some more:











Have a great day!  Maybe you'll find yourself dancing in a storm on the beach....here's to wishing. 

mewl \myool\, verb:
To cry, as a baby, young child, or the like; whimper.