THIS (post-Impressionist) LIFE

Submitted to The Australian, 9.1.2010

The Australian was correct - the books were damn heavy.

When I opened the Review early on Saturday, 21st of November, I saw a dream manifest before my eyes. The article - Into that good night by Sabastian Smee - told of the ambitious project by the Van Gogh Museum and Van Gogh scholars to publish all of Vincent’s 900 letters, complete with thorough annotations and every piece of art referred to by the great post-Impressionist, represented beside his text. The result was Vincent Van Gogh: The Letters: The Complete Illustrated and Annotated Edition (2009).

I’ve been waiting my whole life for these books. Van Gogh has always been my absolute favourite painter from as early as I can remember. His life and art have has had an extraordinary affect me since when I was a young child. When I finally got to stand in front of his light blue self portrait some fifteen years ago, I wept. A bewildered security guard at the Queensland Art Gallery had to help me to a seat. And like many other wannabe artists, I have always felt a kindred spirit; struggles with art, self-confidence and emotions to a certain extent being similar.

Of course I’ve read versions of some of his letters before: mainly heavily edited letters to Theo and Gauguin. They give some insight into the paintyer and his life, but always left me wondering if I had a true vision the man or one coloured by the need to package and sell a marketable product. Then along came the complete, illustrated and annotated edition and, by God, the thing really did weigh a ton.

I thought I knew Vincent pretty well, but in beginning to read his letters, now complete with explanations for what I once only knew as vague references, I realise that I’m starting a new relationship with this extraordinary person. I’ve never met this 19-year-old, positively cheery young man who is full of praise for his job and in complete wonderment of his surroundings. I’ve never seen the fashionable paintings he sold during his time at Goupil’s, or the obscure paintings he would passionately discuss with his brother. I’ve never had the chance to read the poetry he liked, or his letters to distant but much beloved relatives.

Over the 117 years since the very first publication, editors of his letters have focussed on the dramatic elements of Van Gogh’s life because it sells books. His tortured genius; his religious conviction; his fight with Gauguin; his self-mutilation have all been offered up as fodder for the interested reader. Yes, this new 2,240 page edition has editors - teams and teams, in fact - but the irony is that they’ve let Vincent speak for himself for the first time since his death in 1889.

I plan to make my way through all 2,240 pages (six mammoth volumes) of his letters. It’s a little like watching the movie Titanic, I guess: you know it’s not going to end well but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the story along the way. Most of all, I appreciate being given the opportunity to get to know the real Van Gogh; to understand his motivations behind his actions and his work within the context of the world he knew.