This One Is For Vincent

The moment I stepped my foot in Amsterdam, the only thing I wanted to do was visit the Van Gogh museum. A city famous for its canals, windmills and Anne Frank’s home. But everything else could wait.

I can’t explain the fixation with Van Gogh. I feel a connection with him. A friend calls it ‘romanticism’. As I said, I can’t explain it.

I dedicate a post to him because it is his birthday today.

Those were the pre historic days of no Internet when the fascination began. A twelve year old me was channel surfing and stopped on a channel showing a film on Vincent the painter and Vincent the man. Years later when I saw a documentary of his, I was taken in.

I think it is something to do with the fact that he was misunderstood and he wasn’t perfect. Its the imperfections that draw me to him. If you ever check out the potato growers painting, you'll see the perspective and the angles quite wrong. I feel what’s the point of copying a beautiful scene exactly as it is and not have your creative inputs? Your interpretation is your individuality. And Vincent wore it on his sleeve.

Starry, starry night.

Paint your palette blue and grey,

Look out on a summer's day,

With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.

Moving to France, his art started to change. And change is the only thing constant in our lives. The point is art never stagnates. It grows, changes, influences and is influenced by what is happening around it. It evolves. So do human beings. So did Vincent.

Shadows on the hills,

Sketch the trees and the daffodils,

Catch the breeze and the winter chills,

In colors on the snowy linen land.

Over the years, many physiatrists have tried to pin down his mental illness to from schizophrenia to bi-polar disorder, none been able to reach a conclusion which satisfies all. He was an enigma.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,

How you suffered for your sanity,

How you tried to set them free.

They would not listen,

they did not know how.

Perhaps they'll listen now.

After fellow painter and friend Gaugin refused to stay with him, his illness started to magnify. But when his brother got married, he blamed his sister-in-law for taking Theo away from him. It is ironic that after his death, his sister-in-law worked tirelessly to bring glory for his work.

For they could not love you,

But still your love was true.

And when no hope was left in sight

On that starry, starry night,

You took your life,

as lovers often do.

A mystery called Vincent van Gogh lives. Happy birthday Vincent, wherever you are.

Song lyrics: Vincent (Starry, Starry Night) by Don McLean

Originally posted on Thursday, March 30, 2006 5:04 PM