The jury remains out on My Kid Could Paint That, the story of a pre-school girl whose abstract paintings sold for big bucks before a 60 Minutes feature suggested the works were done, instead, by her father. But it certainly doesn’t make the art world look good, in that, if the paintings are a ruse, so many were suckered in by them.
There’s also the question of what is art: a bunch of odd colors and shapes mixed together into a glop which allegedly sparks deep meaning? Or is there true, intrinsic artfulness, even for abstract works?
This superb documentary leaves it to the viewer to decide, but for me, I found the film to concern not art so much as today’s alarmingly worsening sense of stage parents, Little League parents, whatever you want to call them, who use their children to make money or to live out their own dreams without giving the kid much of a choice and while robbing them of their once-in-a-lifetime innocence.
Many parents today are even encouraging their kids to take steroids so they can become star athletes — the health risks be damned. That’s how bad the culture has gotten.
How about just letting a kid be a kid? Is that asking so much? If a parent wanted employees, they should have hired them, not given birth to them.