To Vincent, with love

My heart is in a twist today. I watched ‘At Eternity’s Gate’ - a film based on Vincent van Gogh’s life. My eyes welled up at many parts, and some moments stayed with me long after. He had a hard life. And he was way ahead of his time, and the part where he acknowledges that made my heart sink. He says (I’m trying to remember), God has asked me to sow the seeds, but my harvest isn’t here yet. And then he says that the people who would love his work are not here yet. Maybe he was born with this gift at the wrong time.

His friendship with Paul Gauguin was beautiful. The way Paul saw him as an artist, stood by him, and didn’t belittle him like so many others did then.

The way Vincent saw the world - and the way we see it today through his eyes - felt beautiful to witness. Painting fast, in quick, bold strokes is how he liked to paint (Today we call it impasto). Paul described his style as “sculpting with paint.” And that feels exactly right.

The part that stayed with me the most is how Vincent must have felt - lonely, anxious, carrying something heavy within him. Like there was something around him that wanted to hurt him. He was different. A genius, as we know today. But they didn’t know it then. He died poor, largely unknown, and misunderstood.

His relationship with his brother Theo van Gogh was heartbreakingly beautiful. Theo loved him deeply, and he and Johanna van Gogh-Bonger were among the few who truly believed in his greatness.

And yet, all that love and recognition never really reached him when he was alive. He died knowing he was ahead of his time. And somehow, that doesn’t feel enough. It feels unfair. I wish he had lived to see people stand in front of his work, moved by it, collecting it, holding it close. I admire his courage - to keep painting, every single day.

He said - if I don’t paint, I will kill someone.

It rings a bell. If you don’t create, it dies inside you, killing you with it. It’s a hand you’re dealt.

My heart goes out to Vincent.