The Studio Journal: Favorite Artists 12

In past entries about favorite artists my appreciation for their work was simple to explain, but when it comes to the work of Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890), it's tougher. Still, Vincent van Gogh

Vincent, "Self Portrait, 1887

is a favorite artist of mine despite his shortcomings. Anyone who has seen public or social media knows who Vincent was and also knows that he was spectacularly unsuccessful at anything much during his lifetime. The story goes that he sold no paintings (some do say he sold a single work, but even that is inaccurate) and that he was not only commercially unsuccessful but also socially outcast, an odd kid who grew up to be a strange man.

The real Vincent seems to have been considerably more complicated though, as can be easily seen when reading his letters to his brother Theo and others. For one thing, Vincent had considerable intellect. Although not university-educated, he spoke Dutch, French, and English and could read German. He was an informed and discriminating collector of Japanese woodblock prints, which had been introduced to Europe a bit earlier. He was an avid reader in all four languages. Although he was a strong and odd personality and didn't fit into his native Dutch protestant culture he wasn't a social outcast, particularly after he arrived in Paris in 1886 to live with Theo.

Before arriving in Paris to live, he had lived there briefly ten years earlier before being fired from an art dealer. After that initial failure he had knocked about, working in England and Rotterdam, living in Amsterdam to study for seminary (he failed), then as a lay preacher in Belgium where he nearly died. At length he had decided to become a painter and had studied sporadically alone and with others.

Vincent, "The Potato Eaters," 1885

Henri Toulouse Lautrec, "Van Gogh in Sun," pastel, 1887

Now he settled into the bohemian artist milieu of Montmarte, living with his brother. In the great metropolis there was activity and ferment and experimentation in art. New ideas in painting had gained a foothold and the Impressionist movement was afoot. Until then, Vincent had painted in dark colors--a very muted and bleak palette--and though he had had lessons and practiced fanatically his draftsmanship can only be called uncertain ("The Potato Eaters," above). These early amateur and student level works are poor at best and show how hard he had struggled to learn. Paris was different. Paris was color and life and movement in contrast to the dull life of the Dutch countryside. Here Vincent assimilated many influences in a brief two years, including Impressionism, Japonisme, pointillism, and the poster work of Toulouse Lautrec.

In Paris Vincent studied, painted, and drew. And he met other artists like Lautrec, Paul Gauguin, Emil Benard, and Georges Seurat. In the exciting city he visited museums, studios of other artists, and spent time with many at various watering holes discussing art and the world. He absorbed the ideas and brighter palette of the Impressionist and Post-impressionists sometimes imitating works he saw. Eventually, after what amounted to a two-year saturation in the new art he left for the south of France.

Vincent had become agitated in Paris and felt unable to work because of the bustle, excitement, and fervor he found in the city. Also known as a "difficult" man, opinionated and passionate, his letters also suggest a near-manic excitement. He longed for the countryside and peace. And so he moved to Arles, a small town on the Rhone River in Provence. To him this was an exotic place--warm, flooded with yellow light, populated by a different kind of French who spoke a different dialect, cooked differently and lived differently too. He reveled in the beauty of the countryside, the colors, and again, the light. He began to paint furiously, quickly, more loosely and with even brighter color.

Vincent, "Sunflowers, First Version," 1888

Besides his need for peace, Vincent wrote to his brother that he wanted to establish a "Studio of the South" that would attract many of his colleagues from Paris and elsewhere. He begged Gauguin to come, among others, hoping to establish a real colony. Eventually, Gauguin came and stayed about two months. It was just at the time Gauguin came that Vincent painted his famous Sunflowers. Although not strictly true, it is almost as if, with this series of paintings yellow became Vincent's signature color. He and Gauguin painted together and lived in the same small house. Gauguin was as opinionated as Vincent and inevitably it seems the two argued, sometimes bitterly. Gauguin decided to leave in late December, and Vincent went to pieces. He and Gauguin had a confrontation and afterward Vincent cut off a portion of his right ear with a razor. He carefully wrapped it in paper and took it to a nearby brothel and gave it to a favorite prostitute. Gauguin fled and never saw him again. Recuperating physically but suffering cruelly from hallucinations and delusions he was hospitalized in Arles and then committed himself voluntarily to an asylum in San Remy, a town about twenty miles away.

During his time in the asylum he painted copies and interpretations of other painters. But he also produced what is considered by many as his signature masterpiece, "The Starry Night," with its mysterious swirling clouds and rippling stars. Perhaps even more than the sunflowers, this is Vincent van Gogh. While in the asylum he produced well over 100 paintings and many drawings working almost tirelessly when not confused, delirious or delusional. His actual illness has never been conclusively proven, but he could have had tertiary syphilis, complex epilepsy, poisoning with absinthe and/or other agents, or perhaps severe bipolar disorder. Whatever his pathology Vincent was without question suffering from serious mental illness.

Vincent, "The Starry Night," 1889

Probably the biggest tragedy of Vincent's life was that recognition came too late. While he was still a patient at the San Remy asylum, his work was reviewed favorably in the press, and not long afterward he was one of the exhibitors in a show in Brussels, where he was praised by no less than Claude Monet, a co-exhibitor. Also, one of the exhibited works sold at the show. Furthermore, ten of his paintings were accepted to the annual Salon of Independents in March 1890. Vincent knew of these successes in letters from his brother. Theo had married and in January 1890 his wife delivered a son, whom they named after him. Vincent was so excited he painted an almond branch in flower as gift for his new nephew.

Vincent, "Almond Blossom," 1890

The painting, "Almond Blossom," (right) is a favorite of mine. In it Vincent has faithfully yet emotionally delineated a branch of an almond tree in full flower. The branches are painted against a light blue sky, the blossoms symbolizing new life to Vincent. There are echoes of Japanese prints as well as photographic cropping and simplification. And there is an abstract pattern to the branches, intentional or otherwise that leads the eye inexorably heavenward. It is a delight to the eye and the mind. (The new nephew, incidentally, grew up and founded the Van Gogh Museum.)

In May 1890 Vincent moved from San Remy to Auvers-sur-Oise, a far northern suburb of Paris. He was to be treated by a Dr. Gachet (a homeopathic doctor) who had treated other artists he knew. Vincent thought Gachet was more sick than he but regardless, met him for consultations. After two and a half months Vincent shot himself and died the next day. He was said to have been despondent over his lack of artistic success, a claim that has always seemed odd to me given that his work was actually gaining acceptance. Of course, Vincent continued to drink alcohol and probably absinthe, and to work feverishly for long periods. Whatever his reasons it appears virtually certain that he committed suicide in July, 1890.

It wasn't Vincent's suicide that propelled him to fame. It was his sister-in-law, Jo, Theo's wife. Theo was devastated by Vincent's death, though he had a chance to talk with him and perhaps comfort him in his last hours. Less than a year later, Theo died too, he of syphilis, and is buried next to Vincent. His widow Jo grasped that Vincent's story was a compelling one and his work--his late work at least--compelling and even sometimes exciting. In the 1890s, his reputation began to rise with a few small shows, then larger international shows including The Armory Show in New York in 1913. Jo edited hundreds of Vincent's Letters to Theo and published them in an initial edition at about the same time to acclaim. (These letters are a real treasure and show the reader an unvarnished and real Vincent van Gogh. I recommend them highly.) By the First World War, then, Vincent was famous as few artists have ever been or will be. He is first-name famous, which would probably have bemused him no end.

A final personal word about Vincent. He was a genius painter and a terrible draftsman. A great deal of his work looks (and was) hurried and poorly realized. He painted nudes (a couple of truly dreadful examples are in The Barnes Foundation) that should have been burned on completion. His early work is clearly unschooled and undisciplined. Even in his apex years some of his paintings are work that he might have destroyed if he were in his right senses. And yet. And yet much of his late work simply sings, speaks to people far and wide, resonates in their memory. It is still often uncertain in certain ways yet overflowing with humanity and emotion. And that makes him one of my favorites.

A few more favorites from Vincent's most exciting and productive years, 1888-1889: