Eddy Frankel’s piece on Jack Vettriano dated March 3rd—where he likens Vettriano’s work to a "double cheeseburger in a greasy wrapper"—echoes the kind of underhanded praise mixed with a certain elitist disdain that has shadowed the career of this Scottish painter. For numerous critics, Vettriano’s real offense was appealing to those who usually aren’t initiated into the art world. Or, as Frankel might phrase it, those who don’t mind treating themselves to a McDonald’s cheeseburger every so often.
I’ve always been skeptical of the idea that art is inherently superior if it demands intellectual gymnastics to appreciate it. Countless times, I’ve been introduced to so-called "good" modern art and have had its virtues explained to me, but that doesn’t mean I’d choose to adorn my walls with it.
Contrastingly, Vettriano’s finest paintings resonate emotionally with many in ways that many acclaimed modern pieces fail to achieve. Even though Frankel notices a lack of "conceptual edge" in The Singing Butler, not many would argue about the painting’s aesthetic charm. So, ask yourself: would you prefer a visually captivating piece in your living space or something whose "conceptual edge" holds significance primarily for the artist and a select group of critics?
I suspect people will continue to have an affinity for Vettriano’s art even fifty years down the line, long after the “conceptually edgy” art once lauded by critics has been forgotten. With the grace of his work, Vettriano made art accessible, bridging the gap from elite critics to ordinary folks. It’s an act that many in the art community still haven’t come to terms with. But then again, perhaps I just don’t “get it” as the critics do.
It’s 2025, and yet the Guardian’s main takeaway on the passing of Jack Vettriano seems to focus on his artwork’s “sexiness.” Are we still evaluating art solely from a male heterosexual perspective? Eddy Frankel admits that Vettriano’s pieces come across as “pretty sexist,” a notably understated critique if there ever was one. His work objectifies women within a narrow age range in a manner that doesn’t align with today’s standards.
Claiming popularity as a defense is unconvincing; after all, Donald Trump can be deemed “popular” too. The unsettling aesthetics of Vettriano’s art, which Frankel captures by describing it similarly to a "double cheeseburger wrapped in greasy paper," lie in its fundamental misrepresentations. These images, though veiled as romantic and alluring, actually offer a sanitized façade of misogyny.
Personally, I might be one of those who’s out of step with the art elite. I’ve always appreciated Vettriano’s paintings, having dedicated an entire room to his prints. I also collect prints from Van Gogh and Munch, along with a few originals from yet-to-be-celebrated artists. What the art world seems to overlook is that one can enjoy all these styles simultaneously. Just as I have an affinity for both Schubert and Boney M, even if one is more suited for dancing.
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