Redemption or Manipulation? Revisiting the Art of a Serial Killer—A Dialogue

Providing the Scaffolding: Art and Art Therapy With Varied Populations

Both authors are art therapists who understand that art therapy. . .

. . .is a mental health profession that uses the creative process of art making to improve and enhance the physical, mental and emotional well-being of individuals of all ages. . . . the creative process involved in artistic self-expression helps people resolve conflicts and problems, develop interpersonal skills, manage behavior, reduce stress, increase self-esteem and self-awareness, and achieve insight (http://www.arttherapy.org).

However, different perspectives emerged from views garnered from their respective experiences and expertise. The conclusions that Gussak (2022) formulated were informed through his experiences in providing services within correctional arenas and as an expert witness for a murder trial in which art was used as evidence (2013). These differed from Seymour’s experiences on using art to address grief and loss, including those who are part of the carceral systems.

The Chapter That Started It All

The authors’ discussions were stimulated by the assertions made in the chapter “Wielding a New Weapon: Perpetuating the Multiple Murderer’s Psychopathic Cycle Through Art” in The Frenzied Dance of Art and Violence (Gussak, 2022). The book focused on the natural relationships that existed between art and violence; relying on well-known art pieces and remnants of various experiences, the overall assertion was that art often informed or was a result of sublimated aggression and impulsivity, while simultaneously, art could be used to mitigate, redirect, contain or turn aside aggression and violence. However, one type of aggressive and violent people who create art was a demonstrable outlier–multiple murderers.

Unlike those who sublimate their aggressive energy into transformative imagery, at a minimum, art making seemed to be merely cathartic for these serial killers. At its extreme, they attempted to use their products to resume their dominating, psychopathic actions. It seemed their art served as an extension rather than a redirection of their violent drives, perhaps as an attempt to retain power over the viewer through fear, intimidation and shock. Rather than reforming, they seemed to be reinforcing their barbarous identities. Once arrested, some continued to relive their self-aggrandizing, narcissistic, dominating crimes by violently attacking the viewer with their imagery. With no other tools at their disposal, they wielded their art to continue their campaign of fear, dominance and destruction.

Murderabilia

There exists in society a simultaneous attraction/repulsion for the act of murder, and that the serial killer is the ultimate embodiment of this action (Dietrich & Fox Hall, 2010). This engages what Andrade and Cohen (2007) termed coactivation, allowing for the simultaneous experience of intensely negative and positive feelings toward an aversive action or item.

For most of us, sitting down with a real serial killer would not be an artistic, philosophical experience, but rather a terrifying, repulsive one. Yet, within a protective frame,, we transform the serial killer, already an object of deep curiosity because of his or her fearsomeness, into an icon, an avatar. (Dietrich & Fox Hall, 2010, p. 102).

Possessing the artifacts connected to these people simultaneously allows for further distancing while feeding the fascination. This includes their paintings and drawings that may simultaneously provide an artificial barrier while reinforcing the realness of these individuals. Many multiple murderers have demonstrated a propensity for creating revealing, profane or banal imagery. Online auction houses and gallery catalogs reveal a market for such works. The market for such artifacts is categorized as murderabilia (Hylton, 2007; Junge, 2019).

Art as Murderabilia

Murderabilia is any item connected to infamous murderers, including clothing, handwritten letters, bibles, and–indeed-art. Recognizably, while most see such work as significantly colder and less creative than work of other “outside” artists, “serial killer art is promoted and sold for reasons beyond any aesthetic merit” (White et al., 2014, p. 149). The introduction of a catalog of an exhibition which contained the work of serial killers, indicated. . .

. . .we wait eagerly for our daily dose of horror . . . It is hardly surprising then, that a vast and varied body of collectibles, that can quite rightly be described as “Killer Art,” has emerged from this caravansary of horror transformed into collective arousal and a quick look at the Internet auction sites is enough to give you an idea of its scale . . . These drawings or paintings . . . are simply bad, kitsch and at best, astonishingly banal. Nevertheless . . . numerous exhibitions are dedicated to them and the number of collectors . . . is enormous . . . The appeal . . . is their value of fetishes. (Riva & Vigano, 2001, p. 7)

This fetishism is not new; society has long been simultaneously frightened and excited by the dark side. “[T]o possess an object, an artifact produced by the imagination of these killer artists, means making contact with them, establishing a bond . . . perhaps even to exorcise our own fears” (Riva & Vigano, 2001, p. 8).

[Such] work has emerged as a stand-alone artistic movement, validated by those that collect them. [However, these] collections may be more than mere fetishes or avataristic representations of society’s desire for coactivation; they may also perhaps be unintentionally valuable in providing an unfiltered and unmasked perspective of the sociopathic persona that would otherwise be unavailable. (Gussak, 2022, p. 166)

The men in this chapter were some of the most barbaric examples of human depravity. Yet, while their art gave him a deeper understanding of what may go on behind the killer’s mask, he still displayed restraint to avoid murderabilia-like fascination. Seymour believed that this caused Gussak to sometimes not examine these pieces as deeply as he did with others in the book.

Seymour agreed with many of Gussaks assertions. Most of the art in the chapter appeared to lack self-awareness or humane creativity. For example, Ramirez’s piece was simply a poorly done tracing. Other art seemed an obvious attempt to induce revulsion in the viewer, such as those by Bowles and Ng. Gussak even refused to include Schaefer’s works given their gruesome depictions. However, Seymour saw something different in the included drawing by Glen Edward Rogers–a level of depth and self-reflection not seen in the others (Figure 1).

OPEN IN VIEWER

Figure 1.

Painting by Glen Edward Rogers from The Frenzied Dance of Art and Violence.

Glen Edward Rogers

Glen Edward Rogers was arrested in 1995 for murdering five people, including four women he raped and then killed in impulsive fits of rage. His spree spanned California, Louisiana, Mississippi and Florida, earning him the sobriquet The Cross Country Killer. Some also called him The Casanova Killer for his good looks and ability to charm the women he picked up in bars (Linedecker, 2003; Spizer & Rogers, 2001).

Rogers was arrested in Kentucky. He was sentenced to death by a Florida court in 1997, and again by a California court 2 years later. Although unsubstantiated, his sister indicated that shortly before he was arrested, Rogers told her he was responsible for the deaths of 70 more people. Rogers remains on Florida’s Death Row. Much of his drawings and paintings were created once he was imprisoned.

Seymour felt that there were elements to Rogers’ art piece included in this chapter that were misunderstood and under-evaluated, possibly elements that represented a spiritual crisis often seen in grief work. This is what propagated the discussion between her and Gussak. The following sections include remnants of these dialogues in which Seymour asserted possible reflections of redemption, while Gussak reinforced that they remained negatively manipulative.

Potential Mis-readings, Mis-Understandings, and Missed Elements

For Gussak, Rogers’ drawing was. . .

. . . reminiscent of Mexican calaveras paintings. Rogers’ composition depicts a large, central figure seemingly in prayer wearing a magenta cloak or habit. Her hands are fully skeletal whereas her face seems to be decomposing, revealing most of her skull. The colorfully garbed form stands in what appears to be a cemetery, with rising black ghouls, white crosses, and a large rising moon behind a centrally placed dead tree. Directly behind the woman’s shoulders are stylized flames, perhaps depicting a hellish landscape. Cobwebs hang between her hands and sleeves, perhaps indicating some time has passed since the figure’s death. Everything in this painting is dead except for a large, purple rose she holds by the stem. (Gussak, 2022, p.178–179)

Seymour believed that while superficially accurate, Gussak missed key elements. Drawing upon her work with grief, symbolism, and religious iconography, she argued there were potentially deeper considerations to be made.

While correct in observing that the figure reflected Mexican art, it was likely not the calaveras that Rogers was representing, but rather Santa Muerte. The folk saint Santa Muerte has many names–“The Angel of Death”, “Saint Death” and “Holy Death” (Chesnut, 2018). Born in Mexico, she is an amalgamation of Christianity and traditional culture. While she represents death, she is not evil, serving many functions for her devotees, including love, magic, money, protection and healing. At times, she has been adopted as the patron saint of members of Mexican drug cartels and prison inmates (Brook, 2016). For many, Santa Muerte guides not only their views on death, but daily living as well.

Through this lens, Rogers’ painting may take on new meaning. While Gussak (2022) indicated that. . .

. . .his painting seems to attempt to portray and elicit horror [remaining] superficial, with kitsch and crass representations. . .. It does not seem to be a true reflection of who he is; rather, it is a copy or artificial depiction of what he believes to be evocative and profound. (p. 180)

Seymour believed that the piece was not meant to horrify, but could be an attempt to represent Roger’s inner spiritual crisis by portraying death herself. While Rogers killed many, the painting–and its subsequent symbology- could signify inner conflict, possibly even grief and repentance.

By selecting the feminine embodiment of death, Rogers seemed to contradict his murderous dominance over women. To effectively continue his reputation of terror it seemed more likely to Seymour that Rogers would have chosen a masculine, angry representation of death. For example, Bowles’ painting in the chapter depicted masculine dominance over women that contrasts Rogers’ icon of a caring yet strong female saint.

A number of details seem significant. This includes the purple rose. Roses are sacred to Santa Muerte, with purple often representing healing of disease, addiction, and spiritual transgressions (Rollin, 2017). Including the purple rose seemed intentional, possibly symbolizing a need for healing or forgiveness. In addition, three zombie/ghost figures’ glowing eyes glare at the viewer, perhaps intentionally eliciting fear and foreboding; yet merciful Santa Muerte seems to stand as protector.

Saint Death’s fleshy–possibly rotting- eye in a figure who is often depicted as an eyeless skeleton also seemed noteworthy (Brook, 2016); it makes her appear simultaneously judgmental and sad– less intimidating, yet more challenging and inquisitive. Gussak, (2022) argued that art humanizes “those that have been previously dehumanized. Only when someone creates are they recognized as being alive” (pp. 268–269). Perhaps by including the eye, Rogers is indicating a desire to be seen. By the viewer bearing witness to his artwork—and by extension his internal conflict—Rogers may have been attempting to reclaim his right to be considered human and thus capable of genuine emotion.

With these considerations, it did not appear that Gussak’s overall argument was quite as relevant, at least for Rogers. It does not feel weaponized in the same way as the other pieces in the chapter, but more in alignment with expected processing of grief emotions including guilt, shame, and fear. By depicting Santa Muerte, Rogers was possibly reflecting a true inner struggle that he may not have been able to express in another way due to prison expectations and his reputation as a cold-blooded killer.

While this piece alone does not support Seymour’s argument that Rogers was not manipulative, it is quite possible that Gussak may have viewed the art through a biased lens and a belief that all serial killers were calculating and devoid of humanity. Contrarily, by extension, multiple murderers may indeed use art for greater reflection and honest processing without an ulterior motive. Perhaps even the most depraved could in some instances use art for healing.

Reiterating–The Art Was a Weapon

Many of Seymour’s arguments regarding the particular piece are enlightening, particularly how deftly she used Gussak’s own word, to set up the argument—a seemingly accurate one–that the drawing may not have been explored enough. Indeed, it is likely that the painting depicts Santa Muerte. Seymour framed an effective argument on the potential complexity of this composition. If accurate, then Rogers was possibly depicting inner conflict. Therefore, it was worth considering whether his painting actually reflects a desire for redemption, or was an attempt to manipulate the viewer into believing he was sorry for his acts. However, as the above section of murderabilia reflects, there also seemed to be a potential romanization of the imagery, perhaps falling into a trap that Rogers had set.

Rogers embodied true psychopathy, historically targeting and manipulating women. Those considered psychopaths, while unable to feel empathy and form emotional attachments, often maintain charming personalities. Often cunning and in some sense intelligent and wily, they are able to mimic socially-acceptable interactions. While they may not necessarily feel true emotions, they can appear quite “normal,” easily gaining people’s trust (Cooper & Penn, 2010). Still, regardless of how endearing and intelligent he or she is, it would be safer to remember that such a person is “. . .governed by a code of his or her own” (p. 11). Right and wrong is judged through their own lens, often perceiving themselves superior.

Just as not all manipulative behavior is bad, not all who maintain psychopathic traits are criminals—many of them are respected members of society (Ronson, 2011). There is a valid argument that such traits can be valuable, for example for those heading large companies, running for political office or trying a court case. Such people take advantage of their charm and their ruthlessness, using “. . .the skills necessary to get ahead regardless of who gets in the way” (Gussak, 2022, p.159) Yet, “[c]areful study . . . will quickly persuade even the most unbiased that psychopaths, of whatever stripe, congenitally violent or otherwise, constitute by their nature an extremely dangerous category” (Cooper & Penn, 2010, p. 17). While

. . .such people are capable of self-awareness, [this] does not necessarily mean that they will change. Such knowledge is irrelevant and does not fit within their schema– they refuse to acknowledge responsibilities for the actions that emerge as a result from their beliefs and behaviors. (Gussak, 2022, p. 158)

By all accounts, Rogers was attractive, charming and glib. He was also abusive, impulsive and callous. It seemed Rogers was astute enough to attract sympathy and compassion from at least one that understood. The assertion remains; the painting “. . . is a copy or artificial depiction of what he believes to be evocative and profound” (p.180). Not easily recognizable iconography, it is easy to assume that Rogers wasn’t trying to manipulate everyone into thinking he was on the path to redemption. However, it’s likely he wasn’t trying to fool everyone; only those few that understood its contrived meanings. By doing so, he may have been attempting to convey a sense for such a person that they are special, more likely seen, not by the Saint but by the artist. Rogers relied on manipulative communications to connect with his select victims. This may be what he was attempting to do through this painting.

In addition, as indicated above, to assess a creative product it is often best not to focus on its symbolic content but rather its formal elements (Gantt & Tabone, 1998; Gussak, 2013). While Rogers’ piece may have represented Santa Muerte, potentially indicating redemption and humility, the manner in which this piece was drawn continues to reflect a heightened, almost obsessive attention to detail, a prominently expansive and over-saturated choice of colors and an overabundant use of space and composition. The lines seem overly labored, and carved into the composition. Yet the style is somewhat formulaic and lacks emotional connection, almost as if it was traced or copied and then colored in. These elements seem to reflect an emotionally detached person creating a piece to artificially induce a desired reaction rather than a true reflection. Like with words, someone may manipulate with symbolic vocabulary—it’s harder to do so with how it was painted. Indeed, art can humanize those that have been previously dehumanized.

As an art therapist, Gussak has experienced how such creative expression can and does provide connections for those with such traits. Particularly in prison where humanity is systemically stripped away, objectifying those inside so as to maintain control and security. However, for humanity to be restored, there has to be a fragment of compassion present prior to its systematic breakdown, and a desire to reclaim it. While it is likely not fair to conclude that he had no humanity to begin with, there is little evidence that it was redeemable.

While Rogers may have made some impressive imagery, and some with symbolic import, it does not seem to reflect any compassion. While viewers may be surprised that someone who is reprehensible would create art, the original argument stands: similar to many of those included in the chapter, Rogers likely created the works to reinforce his grandiose, manipulative tendencies. He was wielding his art as a weapon, not for redemption. There simply may not be enough humanity in him to restore.

Introducing a New Piece–Fueling the Argument

As this manuscript evolved, Seymour purchased another piece by Rogers from an online murderabilia dealer. She believed that by examining a piece in person a more informed assessment could be made. It appeared to be created using paint and pen on thick paper (Figure 2). It depicts a central heart entwined by detailed vines. Within the heart are two purple morning glory flowers with two white doves flying upward. The surrounding empty space is painted with a rusty brown color covering all empty space The piece is signed on the front and back with small, controlled cursive letters.

OPEN IN VIEWER

Figure 2.

Drawing by Glen Edward Rogers.

The only information about the piece was a letter Rogers had written to a woman identified by name, signed “Glen” in a large, fluid style. There is no date nor any indication of their relationship. The artwork seems to pull the viewer into a scene that seems idyllic, conveying love and peace. However, as beautiful as the piece may appear there is something unsettling about it.

The controlled, detailed lines seemed to be carved into the paper, creating an unusual texture. While the leaves are painted green, these lines are so ubiquitously overlaid that the green is barely visible (Figure 3-detail). This conveys a sense of intensely, focused violence. The saturated reddish-brown color is unsettling. After reflection, it became clear why; the color was reminiscent of dried blood.

OPEN IN VIEWER

Figure 3.

Detail of drawing by Glen Edward Rogers.

This painting seemed to reflect Rogers’ preferred style of manipulation, luring his victims with charm before brutally attacking them. One of Rogers’ victims was said to have been “mutilated with ghastly stab wounds and deep, ugly slashes” (Linedecker, 2003, p. 124). The gouged lines and the blood-like background disconcertingly reflected his murderous attacks; with no such release available to him inside, such work was possibly an imperfect substitution.

While this piece appeared to confirm Gussak’s assumptions, it did not change Seymour’s view of the Santa Muerte piece or the murderer’s ability for self-reflection. While artwork by serial killers could be used as a weapon, that does not preclude that they may process deeper emotional conflict through art creation. Rogers’ two pieces could represent both ends of a skewed spectrum– one end as reflective, the other as manipulative. An inmate will either “. . .lie or tell the truth depending on what they want. . .but the art doesn’t lie” (Gussak, 2015). By extension, the challenge may be for the viewer to see the truth behind the piece without bias. Those who commit heinous acts may not be purely evil and incapable of introspection. Humans are far more nuanced, dynamic, and, at times, contradictory with even the “good” capable of inflicting harm.

Final Thoughts

Seymour and Gussak recognized that anything posited throughout is speculation and can only be verified by the artist himself. As art therapists, the authors usually refrain from assessing a single art piece in isolation of a larger body of work and without the artist’s input (Gussak, 2013). However, for the sake of this theoretical debate, interviewing the artist was unnecessary and conceivably quite dangerous.

The addition of the second piece seemed to reinforce that; in-depth research is necessary in the absence of direct observation. While Gussak admits that he was remiss in not examining the included piece in-depth for possible symbolic meaning, Seymour revealed just how important it was to have the art in front of her as well, and how such a piece can embody and reflect Rogers’ true nature. This also begs the question that if Seymour had the Santa Muerte piece in her hands, might it also elicit the same realizations.

Therefore, this final section includes a confession of sorts, an acknowledged awareness of how important it is to conduct due diligence through in-depth examinations of the art. Simultaneously, given the scholarly yet sometimes subjective bent of the content being written, it is crucial to be open to ongoing dialogue that may question, even confront, assertions made. Neither Gussak nor Seymour completely changed their overall conclusions regarding the art of multiple murderers. Gussak continues to underscore that their art likely reinforces and perpetuates the psychopathic cycle they remain on, but he acquiesces to the better educated perspectives and specific experiences that Seymour offered on grief, redemption and its symbolic import.

The dialogue between the authors were conducted respectfully, and has been, frankly, quite fun. They built off of each others’ perspectives, resulting in more thoughtful insights. Mutually respectful dialogue and debate-regardless of the focus– is valuable for the furtherance of the theories, ideas and positions that drive the field.

Still, as Gussak stressed, the connections between art and violence are “much messier, frenzied, feverish, and chaotic” (2022, p. 267). The analysis of the serial killer art appears to mimic this same pattern– with likely no one correct answer, but many that change with each new piece of art created. The frenzied dance continues no more organized than before, but perhaps with new perspectives offered and explored on the complexities and motivations within the mayhem, educated and mutual understandings can emerge.