Postcard : Vincent van Gogh

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Almond Blossoms

Van Gogh arrived in Arles during one of the harshest winters in years. We can imagine a gloomy, cold atmosphere, great snowdrifts piled up by the road, Vincent’s breath visible in a plume of vapour as he steps down from the train. But it is February, and in just a few weeks, Spring will begin to wake the earth and bring out the brilliant colours of the Provençal landscape.

Vincent was 33 years old and was about to enter the most productive period of his life. In under fifteen months—just 444 days—he would produce more than 200 paintings of “…landscapes, yellow—old gold—done quickly, quickly, quickly, and in a hurry just like the harvester who is silent under the blazing sun, intent only on the reaping.”

Vincent had been living in Paris, meeting some of Montmartre’s most famous artists, including Claude Monet, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, and, most importantly, the avant-gardist, Paul Gauguin. However, the city life had taken its toll, and he had become tired and ill. He came to Provence in part for his health, hoping the mild climate would help him with a nasty drinking habit and smoker’s cough that he had developed in the hedonistic, busy environment of the French capital.

But Vincent had learnt a lot in Paris. From the Impressionist artists such as Monet or Morisot, his earlier Dutch style canvases, all in shades of brown, red and black, took on light airy hues of blues, greens and yellows. He had learnt the techniques of painting en plein air, or outdoors, directly from the landscape, rather than in a studio and of representing the transitory effects of light on colour. Finally, he developed a fascination with the arts and culture of Japan. Enchanted by their colours, mystique, and interesting, asymmetrical compositions, diagonal lines, and off-centre subjects, he had collected hundreds of Japanese prints.

To Vincent, Arles was ‘the Japan of the South’; Provence was considered at the time an exotic part of France. Here, the locals cooked with olive oil, they attended bullfights, and they spoke a dialect that was closer to Spanish than Parisian French. This was a land of romance, where peasants lived in close proximity to nature, tied deeply to the land and the changing seasons. A notion deeply attractive to the artist, whose spiritual beliefs had developed from the Christianity of his youth to a pantheism that believed in the spiritual force of nature, of the power of the rustling leaves, the changing seasons, the sunlight.

And he came here too for that brilliant Mediterranean light, which he hoped would give him the same clarity and brilliance as captured by the Japanese printmasters. Vincent believed that the strength of the light, washing out detail in colour and texture, allowed him to paint the vivid colour contrasts and strong outlines for which his work is famous. Among the clarity of light, the beautiful landscapes, the intense colours, he aimed to create a corpus that expressed his inner self and would, eventually, attract other artists, forming a new utopian community of creatives he would dub ‘the Studio of the South’.

This particular canvas was painted in 1890, but was part of a series of paintings of blossoms begun by Vincent almost immediately after his arrival. It is an almond blossom, the first to bloom in Arles. It’s a hopeful, delicate picture that expresses new beginnings, new hopes, and a new life. Now, as Vincent throws open his shutters and inhales their sweet fragrance, he too is making a new beginning and entering an exciting new phase of his career.

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Yellow House

Vincent immediately takes to life in Arles. In March, he writes to Theo: “Here, there is everything I want in terms of nature, the big, sun-drenched landscapes, the skies of a blue like a piece of Japonaiserie." At first, he stayed at the hotel-restaurant Carrel and then moved to some rooms above the Café de la Garre. By May, he rented a studio in the Yellow House, which he finally moved into permanently, renting four rooms alongside his studio.

This early period in Arles is highly productive for Vincent. He writes to Theo and speaks of “An art of unbounded joy in life’, and during this time, he painted some of his most touching works. As the days warmed, he packed up his easel and paintbrushes and sat in the fields, painting peasants at work in the wheatfields, the blossoming trees, numerous still lifes, and the famous View of Arles with Irises in the foreground (see links at bottom of postcard).

But despite this, Vincent begins to feel isolated, and he complains of loneliness. He starts to dream of his Studio of the South, and the same day that he moves his studio into the Yellow House, he mentions in passing in a letter to Theo the idea that Paul Gauguin, a personal artistic hero of his, could leave his current residence in Brittany and stay with him. Over the next couple of months, this offhand remark becomes more and more insistent. He writes to Gauguin in September, saying “I must tell you that even while working I think continually about the plan of setting up a studio in which you and I will be permanent residents, but which both of us want to turn into a shelter and refuge for friends, against the times when they find that the struggle is getting too much for them.”

The Yellow House’s colour palette is lovingly simple, a yellow house on a yellow street standing in front of a yellow railway bridge; yellows upon yellows, upon yellows. Here we get a window into the artist’s life, the everyday locations where he spent his time. The building in the centre of the frame is the Yellow House itself, the room on the far right of the building with green shutters thrown open is the guest room, and the window to the left, shutters closed, is Van Gogh’s bedroom.

This is a hopeful painting. It depicts the place where Vincent hoped his Studio of the South would be born, the bright yellows reflecting the artist’s anticipation and optimism, the green shutters and the garden representing the fundamental reliance of the artist on inspiration from the natural world. But notice the wide streets, look how wide open and quiet they are, just a few people going about their business, the empty blue sky yawning above. For now, Vincent is lonely in Arles, his utopian dream as yet unrealised. But then, finally, in late October, he receives the letter he’s been waiting for: Gauguin has agreed to come and stay in the Yellow House.

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Sunflowers

Paul Gauguin, Vincent’s great hero and mentor, has agreed to come to Arles to live in the Yellow House and to begin the formation of the Studio of the South. In a letter to Gauguin sent just before his arrival, the artist’s excitement is palpable, he reassures Gauguin he won’t miss Paris, he describes an ‘extraordinary fever for work’, he frets that he has come too late in the year and that he will have to be patient before he sees the true beauty of the Provençal landscape.

To Vincent, yellow was more than one of his favourite colours; it represented truth, happiness and divinity. Further, to the Dutch, yellow was the colour of loyalty and devotion, a symbol to Vincent of his commitment to art and like-minded artists. To welcome his friend, Vincent painted six still-life sunflowers, with which he decorated Gauguin’s room in the Yellow House. The paintings are a celebration of yellow and exude optimism, lightness, a playful, happy attitude, and a sense of welcoming camaraderie.

But it’s also a painting of formal experimentation - Van Gogh’s predecessors, the Impressionists, had stressed that the best way to make your colours more vivid was to place contrasting hues next to each other (colours on the opposite parts of the colour wheel). This creates a kind of visual vibration that heightens the colour’s intensity. Here, Van Gogh does the opposite: he puts yellow against yellow, the yellow sunflowers stand against a light yellow background; we have three shades of yellow and almost nothing else, and it works! The painting practically radiates golden light. Gauguin was immediately impressed with the series, describing the paintings as ‘completely Vincent’.

Gauguin would stay with Vincent for nine turbulent weeks. At first, the two get on well: they spend their days in the studio or the fields. Gauguin creates some of his most famous works here, including his portrait of Vincent, The Painter of Sunflowers, which depicts him leaning back into the right of the frame, decked out in yellows upon yellows, painting a bunch of sunflowers on his table (see link at the bottom of the postcard).

However, the two men were strong personalities with strong opinions on how art should be approached. Soon, serious differences began to crop up between them. They agreed on what they saw as the somewhat decorative, shallow works of the Impressionists, on the need instead for symbolism and expression in their work, and on the joys of drinking absinthe long into the night. When it came to virtually everything else, they were at loggerheads.

Foremost, Vincent took issue with Gauguin’s preference for painting from memory or imagination, using the natural world only as a starting point. Vincent believed that the truth and depth of the work came from nature, which spoke to the artist through direct connection and observation. Like the Impressionists, he aimed to capture the immediate experience of his subject - the fleeting feeling a landscape, a person or an interior invoked - a feeling he believed could only be captured if his subject was grounded in reality.

Gauguin, on the other hand, had a more intellectualised approach. He saw the use of the imagination as a way to reveal deep, inner truths. Inspired by the abstract forms of non-Western art, he created canvases saturated with dreamlike motifs and esoteric symbolism, ending up with paintings filled with imaginary patterns, figures and landscapes.

Gradually, the two realised that they had unreconcilable differences. There would be no community of kindred spirits working together to create a new artist’s colony bathed in Provençal light. Vincent and Gauguin simply could not get along.

Gaugin and Vincent’s relationship was healthy, productive and strong at first. Like the sunflowers in the vase, they radiated beauty and golden light. But over time, sunflowers wilt and whither. One by one, the petals drop, the stem droops, the head falls into the mulch, and what was once perfect becomes rotten. An icy chill had settled into the Yellow House that winter. Their friendship was going the same way as the sunflowers Vincent bought to paint back in October, freezing over in the December frost.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Painter_of_Sunflowers#/media/File:Paul_Gauguin_-_Vincent_van_Gogh_painting_sunflowers_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg

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Self-portrait with Bandaged Ear

Please note: This piece touches on themes of self-harm, mental illness

By midwinter, Vincent and Gauguin’s relationship had completely deteriorated. Van Gogh felt himself disillusioned with his former mentor, and Gauguin was constantly, hectoringly critical of his roommate’s work.

Finally, in December 1889, Gauguin tells Vincent that he’s had enough, and he’s going back to Paris. Then, according to the official police testimony given by Gauguin, Vincent became enraged and rushed at him with a razor, before stopping himself and retreating in horror. Gauguin then leaves the scene, and Vincent, in confusion and despair, slices off part of his left ear. He wraps the ear in paper and takes it to Gabrielle Berlatier, a female companion. Berlatier then calls the local police, who arrive the next morning, probably saving Vincent’s life as they stop the bleeding. Gauguin leaves after giving his statement, and the two will never see each other again. For Vincent, this will be the first of a series of breakdowns that will eventually end in his hospitalisation.

This painting is a self-portrait that Vincent created just after the altercation with Gauguin; his left ear is bandaged. He wears a large blue hat, purchased to weigh down the heavy bandage, and a large winter coat. The windows are thrown open, letting the frigid air into a room that is bare save for a Japanese print and an easel.

Vincent once said, “People say – and I’m quite willing to believe it – that it’s difficult to know oneself – but it’s not easy to paint oneself either.” The artist used his self-portraits as a way of looking into the mirror, as a means of exploring questions of identity and inner turmoil, wrestling with the shifting nature of the self and the tantalising hope of true self-knowledge.

What do we think Vincent is saying about himself in this portrait? We see him at one of his lowest moments. A cherished dream has been smashed, and a friend has been lost. What do we see in his face? Is it shame or anxiety? Weariness? He has used impasto brushwork here, where thick layers of paint, mixed with a palette knife, are applied directly to the canvas, creating a great deal of texture. Vincent has become famous for this technique, and here he uses it to great effect, which he combines with strong vertical brushstrokes and the expressive addition of greens, blues and yellows to add a strong emotional intensity.

For Vincent, this portrait was an attempt at healing. He has gone through a traumatic, harrowing experience, yet he has managed to pull himself together, even with his wound still fresh, and the studio so cold that he needs to wear that big fur cap indoors. Despite it all, he has painted this masterpiece. In Vincent’s weary face, we can see a man of great character and strength. Someone who, despite inner turmoil, was able to turn his pain back on itself, to create art that is unique and beautiful, and leave our world a better, richer place than he found it.

km od začátku : 0090

Starry Night

Please note: This piece touches on themes of suicide

The people of Arles began to turn against Vincent, ostracising him and eventually petitioning the police to have him removed from the town. Vincent was admitted to the hospital Hôtel-Dieu-Saint-Espirit in late December 1888. Here, he lived unhappily, but come spring, Vincent felt better and returned briefly to the Yellow House in an attempt to begin living a normal life. Unfortunately, his mental health once again began to deteriorate. Finally, Vincent wrote to Theo and told him he would leave Arles and voluntarily commit himself to the asylum at Saint-Paul-de-Mausole, where he would spend the next year.

Here things began to improve. He was allowed to paint, provided an extra room for a studio and free rein of the hospital's beautiful grounds. Later, he was allowed outside the gates to paint the surrounding countryside (where he painted many famous works, such as Wheatfields with Cypresses, linked below). Vincent’s spirits were further buoyed by the news of the birth of his nephew, whom Theo named after his brother, calling him Vincent Willem van Gogh.

Starry Night shows the view of Vincent’s room just before dawn, with an imagined village below. It foregrounds a darkened cypress tree, set above a sleepy town dominated by a church spire, just a few lights coming on in the windows. The vast majority of the composition is dedicated to a luminous, swirling night sky, where the stars hang like Japanese lanterns, enveloped in the clouds. A large crescent moon illuminates the sky in a soft blue light as the first touches of dawn lighten the hills in the background. Again, Vincent used the impasto technique here, reportedly applying the paints directly onto the canvas and simply mixing them with his fingers (this detail is usually dismissed as a myth now, but it’s a great image), then attacking the painting with broad, arching strokes to create a strong, expressive texture and motion.

Interpretations of Starry Night differ. Many attribute the dreamy, visionary nature of this painting to a private mystical experience. Some see it as a religious painting, some as a paean to the terrifying sublimity of nature. Others read the swirling motion of the work as reflecting the artist’s inner state.

I love how this painting captures a feeling of spiritual awe as the clouds swirl around the stars, challenging my preconceptions of the stillness and serenity of the night sky. We are looking at a scene where, although the sky is dark and turbulent, the stars, the moon and the coming dawn mix light and hope into the darkness. To me, it is a painting that wrestles with the constant contradictions we all face whilst living our lives. How happiness mixes with grief, beauty with terror, and ultimately, life with death.

After painting Starry Night, Vincent would live only a few more months. He would leave the asylum in May 1890 and move to the town of Auvers-sur-Oise. Here, he was treated by Dr. Paul Gachet, a specialist in mental illness and an amateur artist, who quickly became a close friend and confidante. In late July, Vincent died, reportedly by his own hand (though it may have been a simple, tragic accident).

Today, it often seems that Vincent is remembered for his mental struggles, probably a form of bipolar disorder, as much as for his work. This is a pity. Vincent suffered greatly, but his illness was not remarkable; he shared it with millions across the globe. What was remarkable were the little worlds he created in his paintings, the intensity and honesty of his portraits, and his deep care and sympathy for the natural world, for ordinary people, for colour.

Vincent’s funeral was a celebration of his life and an exhibition of his work. As he lay resting, his last paintings were displayed around him. Great bunches of yellow sunflowers were placed on his coffin. His paints and easel stood to the side. It was attended by his beloved brother Theo, his loving family, as well as his dear friends and his many, many artistic admirers. Today, he remains an inspiration to countless artists and devotees who all remember that, though like his sunflowers, Vincent’s radiance was too brief, in the heart of every flower are its seeds, from which new life grows.