At Odds with Life, At Ease with Death
Jack Kevorkian is a man of many talents, yet he is infamous for only one thing: his dealings in death. The media-christened “Suicide doctor” is close to death himself after his recent release from prison, and perhaps now he is wondering what his legacy will be. Most likely it will be his hodgepodge suicide machine and his publicly decried usherings of the terminally ill into the next world, conducted from the back of an old van. But what few people may ever know about Jack Kevorkian is that he is also an accomplished artist, having rendered a number of fascinating and provocative paintings. These images convey the thoughts of a man who throughout the course of his life appears to have been at odds with the rest of the world – at best a cynic, at worst a misanthrope.
According to a biography written by Detroit journalist Michael Betzold, the enmity between Kevorkian and the world started at an early age and grew steadily over the next half-century. The biography chronicles a boy who acted out against his disenchantment with school by shooting spitballs and who early on rejected the Christian tradition in which he was raised. Like the iconic high school intellectual, he steered clear of sports and the social scene, instead engaging in more cerebral pursuits. It seems almost like a science fiction cliché how he would go on in his adult years to become something quite akin to a mad scientist, like Victor Frankenstein or Dr. Strangelove.
© Jack Kevorkian
Just as his actions flew in the face of America’s legal system and its underlying Christian moral foundation, Kevorkian’s paintings present a scathing indictment of the greater society. One of his pieces, entitled “Brotherhood”, displays a fabric made of human faces – diverse as if to say no one is exempt from this judgment – and centered by the face of Satan, who Kevorkian names as humanity’s “real god”. The title itself is meant to be ironic. Kevorkian seems to suggest that any show of solidarity between people is superficial, concealing the more real feelings of “distrust and suspicion” and hatred prevalent throughout society. Perhaps the real irony, though, is that the painting and the thoughts it represents are of the same cynical character that he criticizes in his fellow humans.
© Jack Kevorkian
A second piece, “For He is Raised” is a blatant attack on the faith he rejected in his youth. It depicts Jesus Christ being pulled up from out of an Easter egg by white bunnies, who seem as surprised to find him there as he is disturbed by the ordeal. The message here seems to be that for all of the exaltation of Christ as divinity, the holiday celebrating his resurrection has become distorted and even blasphemous – laden with bastardized pagan rituals and imagery. This is ironic, considering Christianity’s well-documented animosity towards paganism throughout history. Worse still, religious reverence appears to have been withdrawn and replaced with spectacles of consumerism – baskets of colored eggs, parades, and perhaps a perfunctory nod to the resurrection. But the painting is hardly a cry for more genuine devotion to Jesus, as Kevorkian probably couldn’t care less; it is more likely a critique of the religion itself as well, in how easily its values can be substituted for meaningless pomp and circumstance.
© Jack Kevorkian
A third painting, called “Genocide”, shows a man seated at a dinner table with two military helmets serving as bowls filled with bullets and crosses. The silverware he holds look more like medieval weapons, and the salt and pepper shakers are shaped like missiles. Most alarming is that the main course is The Individual’s own severed head. Behind him is some kind of Romanesque centurion, reaching around to hold his wrist; this is Mars, the god of war, guiding his actions. The beheaded man, of course, is humanity, the head on the plate representing their seeming inclinations to destroy (or in Kevorkian’s own words “devour”) themselves. The bullets and crosses could be seen as the “sustenance” for war – as religion is often a motivation, and ammunition is a medium for delivering death. The Individual being headless and having his hand guided by Mars seems to hint at the sort of unseeing fanaticism with which many humans approach war – driven by less-than-conscious forces like the will to evolve. Kevorkian calls war “worse than evil”, and perhaps as a nod towards his other painting, blames humanity’s current state of “brotherhood”. In true Kevorkian fashion, he painted the frame with blood – his own and outdated plasma from blood banks – perhaps for sheer shock value, or to lend the piece some additional “authenticity”.
Kevorkian’s status as a social pariah appears to be as much his own doing as it is a result of media crucifixion. His paintings could be seen as either a somber acceptance of this status, or a seething response to it. Despite his fascination with death, he also shows a clear reverence for life, and his cynicism masks a more deep-seated compassion and romanticism. It is common for romantics to feel a sense of separation from the rest of society, where that society fails to live up to their lofty expectations. Jack Kevorkian’s life may have been spent mostly at odds with society, but one can only hope that in the time leading to his death he will find a way to reconcile his cynical view of humanity with his idealistic hopes for them.
Kevorkian was a master of expressing the authentic attitudes of man and translating them to canvass. His use of symbolism is frieghtenly realistic as to the coresponding emotions they represent. Here as elsewhere, all thinking men are atheists disgusted with status quo of mediocrity. He will be sorely missed as a voice of reason.