"Paintings have a life of their own that is derived from painter's soul. I dream of painting and then l paint my dream."
I remember that reading this book seemed no less than a laborious task; at least at the beginning. Numerous characters, shifting plots and detailed descriptions of art that sounded dross. But the thing that was more disturbing was the protagonist itself ; a social psychopath, a priest, a deserter, stoic but nonetheless a rebellious dreamer and a person I still find hard to understand.
" Nature always begin by resisting the artist . I won't allow myself to be led astray by that resistance"
But despite the resistances I continued my lackadaisical reading. After being rejected by women he loved and moving ahead with the unclear idea of what he wanted to do with life he decided to become a priest out of his whim. He went to Borinage, helped and even risked his life for the oppressed coal miners , gave away his every possessions, fought for their rights putting everything on stakes. But he failed you see, because upending the institutionalized ways and rules was a bigger mistake in the eyes of the religious fraternity than the well being of the people. He was dismissed and the mad maverick chose out of nowhere to become a painter and help his brother Theo; a established art trader to whom he was indebted for more than just money.
“To act well in this world, one must die within oneself. Man is not on this earth only to be happy, he is not there to be simply honest, he is there to realize great things for humanity, to attain nobility and to surpass the vulgarity in which the existence of almost all individuals drags on.”
Van Gogh never went to art schools and his paintings apart from being non salable always went under questions and criticism. He turned out to be a liability for his family and Theo too. He left his home and move to another city working undeterred on improving his skills . His series of letters to his brother all throughout his days off struggle ( which lasted until his death) were articulate and deeply stirring.
" We accept all of nature, without any denial. We believe there is more beauty in a harsh truth than in a pretty lie, more poetry in earthiness than in all the salons of Paris. We think pain is good because it is the most profound of all human feelings. We think sex is beautiful even when portrayed by a harlot and a pimp. We put character above ugliness, pain above prettiness and hard, crude reality above all the wealth in France. We accept life in its entirety without making moral judgments. We think the prostitute is as good as the countess, the concierge as good as the general, the peasant as good as the cabinet minister, for they all fit into the pattern of nature and are woven into the design of life!"
It was then he met Christine; a poor worker at laundry but also a prostitute when situation demanded. He accepted her with her three children and the one she carried and painted her in ' the sorrow' . Meanwhile he was entrapped between love and career. His works being repeatedly rejected and mocked. His mistake was that in the realm of realism he dared to draw painting that weren't an imitation; that contained an untangible meaning. He bogged deeper into mire of destitution. In reality his works were not rejected out of it's peurility but the fear of vivid imagery that it created.
"The more I am spent, ill, a broken pitcher, by so much more I am an artist.... kind of melancholy remains within us when we think that one could have created life at less cost than creating art"
He grew intemperate ,tried to be hard on himself. After moving to his home he spent hours under the sun ; working day and night on his paintings. People said he was a emotionless being or was his true being simply esoteric. Why he spent more than he had on the people of Borinage, why he chose a slut to be his wife , why a women loved him so much to end her life for him, why he cut his ear and gave it to the teen who loved them.. we know not.
"You cannot be firmly certain about anything. You can only have enough courage and strength to do what you consider to be right. Maybe it turns out that was wrong, but still you would have done this, and it is most important."
He wasn't firm or wanted to be firm of anything. He fled from home and kept fleeing to one place after other. The only thing that remained firm were the repudiation of his works and his endless perseverance to keep painting. It teaches one the value of perseverance for one’s ultimate aim in life and a dogged resistance to the potential misleading opportunities that arise in the life of every individual.
"Life's not so bad after all. There are not only poison but also antidotes"
Things started coming in order when he shifted with Theo . He got acquainted and learned a lot from the renowned painters. Van Gogh provided a tender counterpoint to the duo of the solitary, difficult Cezanne and the hostile, cynical Gauguin. He started earning a living. Life has it's ebbs and flow. And he was not familiar with the latter.
"Knowing how to suffer without complaining is the only practical thing, it's the great science, the lesson to learn, the solution to the problem of life."
His deliabitating medical condition was getting worsen but it never became a hurdle between his pursuit to paint. He worked feverishly and competently until his suicide in 1890 despite his seizures and fits of crippling depression, spending the final two months of his life in Auvers-sur-Oise. It's a dismal irony that he spent entire life in anonimity and negation and was revered as pioneer of modern art by the same precincts of the society.
"Art is amoral; so is life. For me there are no obscene pictures or books; there are only poorly conceived and poorly executed ones."
At last this is not a mere hagiography but a sombre and inspiring journey of a man whose story will make you lurch inside with pain and pleasure , with abysmal negativity and rejuvenating hope , with disgust but an endless lust for life.....
I remember that reading this book seemed no less than a laborious task; at least at the beginning. Numerous characters, shifting plots and detailed descriptions of art that sounded dross. But the thing that was more disturbing was the protagonist itself ; a social psychopath, a priest, a deserter, stoic but nonetheless a rebellious dreamer and a person I still find hard to understand.
" Nature always begin by resisting the artist . I won't allow myself to be led astray by that resistance"
But despite the resistances I continued my lackadaisical reading. After being rejected by women he loved and moving ahead with the unclear idea of what he wanted to do with life he decided to become a priest out of his whim. He went to Borinage, helped and even risked his life for the oppressed coal miners , gave away his every possessions, fought for their rights putting everything on stakes. But he failed you see, because upending the institutionalized ways and rules was a bigger mistake in the eyes of the religious fraternity than the well being of the people. He was dismissed and the mad maverick chose out of nowhere to become a painter and help his brother Theo; a established art trader to whom he was indebted for more than just money.
“To act well in this world, one must die within oneself. Man is not on this earth only to be happy, he is not there to be simply honest, he is there to realize great things for humanity, to attain nobility and to surpass the vulgarity in which the existence of almost all individuals drags on.”
Van Gogh never went to art schools and his paintings apart from being non salable always went under questions and criticism. He turned out to be a liability for his family and Theo too. He left his home and move to another city working undeterred on improving his skills . His series of letters to his brother all throughout his days off struggle ( which lasted until his death) were articulate and deeply stirring.
" We accept all of nature, without any denial. We believe there is more beauty in a harsh truth than in a pretty lie, more poetry in earthiness than in all the salons of Paris. We think pain is good because it is the most profound of all human feelings. We think sex is beautiful even when portrayed by a harlot and a pimp. We put character above ugliness, pain above prettiness and hard, crude reality above all the wealth in France. We accept life in its entirety without making moral judgments. We think the prostitute is as good as the countess, the concierge as good as the general, the peasant as good as the cabinet minister, for they all fit into the pattern of nature and are woven into the design of life!"
It was then he met Christine; a poor worker at laundry but also a prostitute when situation demanded. He accepted her with her three children and the one she carried and painted her in ' the sorrow' . Meanwhile he was entrapped between love and career. His works being repeatedly rejected and mocked. His mistake was that in the realm of realism he dared to draw painting that weren't an imitation; that contained an untangible meaning. He bogged deeper into mire of destitution. In reality his works were not rejected out of it's peurility but the fear of vivid imagery that it created.
"The more I am spent, ill, a broken pitcher, by so much more I am an artist.... kind of melancholy remains within us when we think that one could have created life at less cost than creating art"
He grew intemperate ,tried to be hard on himself. After moving to his home he spent hours under the sun ; working day and night on his paintings. People said he was a emotionless being or was his true being simply esoteric. Why he spent more than he had on the people of Borinage, why he chose a slut to be his wife , why a women loved him so much to end her life for him, why he cut his ear and gave it to the teen who loved them.. we know not.
"You cannot be firmly certain about anything. You can only have enough courage and strength to do what you consider to be right. Maybe it turns out that was wrong, but still you would have done this, and it is most important."
He wasn't firm or wanted to be firm of anything. He fled from home and kept fleeing to one place after other. The only thing that remained firm were the repudiation of his works and his endless perseverance to keep painting. It teaches one the value of perseverance for one’s ultimate aim in life and a dogged resistance to the potential misleading opportunities that arise in the life of every individual.
"Life's not so bad after all. There are not only poison but also antidotes"
Things started coming in order when he shifted with Theo . He got acquainted and learned a lot from the renowned painters. Van Gogh provided a tender counterpoint to the duo of the solitary, difficult Cezanne and the hostile, cynical Gauguin. He started earning a living. Life has it's ebbs and flow. And he was not familiar with the latter.
"Knowing how to suffer without complaining is the only practical thing, it's the great science, the lesson to learn, the solution to the problem of life."
His deliabitating medical condition was getting worsen but it never became a hurdle between his pursuit to paint. He worked feverishly and competently until his suicide in 1890 despite his seizures and fits of crippling depression, spending the final two months of his life in Auvers-sur-Oise. It's a dismal irony that he spent entire life in anonimity and negation and was revered as pioneer of modern art by the same precincts of the society.
"Art is amoral; so is life. For me there are no obscene pictures or books; there are only poorly conceived and poorly executed ones."
At last this is not a mere hagiography but a sombre and inspiring journey of a man whose story will make you lurch inside with pain and pleasure , with abysmal negativity and rejuvenating hope , with disgust but an endless lust for life.....
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