Misunderstood and Enduring

Even given all the writings, the letters, and decades of speculation, we can never know the troubled genius that was Vincent Van Gogh. For example, it is widely held that he cut off his own ear. Along with some dissenting opinions, I think that is highly unlikely. Certainly a more plausible scenario is that he may have engaged in a drunken, perhaps, absinthe driven, altercation with, say, Gauguin, and the ear was unfortunately grazed off. To protect his friend, and the only other artist in the art colony he sought to create, Van Gogh must have taken the blame for the mishap. I shudder to think of the avalanche of humiliation he endured.

As for the irony of his work, he painted sunflowers to brighten the homes of common workers, that is, to have something cheerful and wonderful, something of natural beauty, on their walls. He wished for them the glory of color to shine as they ate their daily bread, the fruits of their own hands and toil. To this end he dedicated his days and hours. Could he have imagined that only the super wealthy could ever afford such a sight in their homes?!

As for his mastery, I recall seeing an exhibit of his work some five years ago at the Seattle Art Museum. The exhibit was exquisitely lit, that is, the most superior lighting I had ever seen in an art museum. The room seemed dark, and yet, the paintings were lit with optimal brilliance. For a Van Gogh, this has to be key, and quite a challenge with his work being sculptural in nature. I thought to myself that truly, Van Gogh was the best with color of any artist, living or dead, even better than Picasso.

I say, let's not presume so much to understand, as to appreciate Van Gogh for the wonder of color, form, and brushstroke, the wonder of the way in which he captured his world with gobs of pigment. In this way, I think we can best honor the memory of Van Gogh, the master.