The story of Vincent Van Gogh, this narrative stands out as one of the most revealing and moving autobiographies of all time. Stone has collected Van Gogh's personal letters to his beloved brother Theo, and the result is a vivid self-portrait in words equal in intensity to his paintings.
Paperback
,
480 pages
Published
April 1st 1969
by Signet
(first published 1937)
An extraordinary document! What other such inner view of a great artist's creative processes and life do we have like this one? We bear with him when he abandons an early attempt to enter the church, during which he becomes about as parable spewing and pious as any pastor one can imagine. Then as he turns away from his family--except for brother Theo, to whom these letters were addressed--and to the life of a solitary painter. We are with him as he studies under Anton Mauve at The Hague, as he l
An extraordinary document! What other such inner view of a great artist's creative processes and life do we have like this one? We bear with him when he abandons an early attempt to enter the church, during which he becomes about as parable spewing and pious as any pastor one can imagine. Then as he turns away from his family--except for brother Theo, to whom these letters were addressed--and to the life of a solitary painter. We are with him as he studies under Anton Mauve at The Hague, as he learns and speaks at length about what he has learned about artistic technique.
We feel the heartbreak keenly when he is rejected by a cousin whom he wishes to marry, and during his subsequent emotional crises. When out of deep loneliness he befriends and falls in love with a pregnant streetwalker, who had been abandoned by her lover, I felt for him in his outcast situation keenly. His extended family is outraged. Nevertheless, he takes her in, changes her life, and makes both her and himself briefly happy. These particular passages touch on the hard lives of poor single women during this time of puritanically repressed society as nothing else I have ever read. In the meantime we get van Gogh's verbal descriptions of what he sees, and it's as if we're looking into one of his extraordinary paintings. For example:
I have attacked the old whopper of a pollard willow, and I think it is the best of the watercolors--a gloomy landscape, that dead tree near a stagnant pool covered with reeds, a car shed of the Ryn railroad, where tracks cross each other; the sky with drifting clouds, grey with a single bright white border, and depths of blue where the clouds are parted. I wanted to make it as the signalman in his smock and with his little red flag must see and feel it when he thinks: "It is gloomy weather today." (p. 141)
I like the way editors Irving and Jean Stone have cut the letters into a continuous manuscript, leaving out salutations and much mundane material. But there's a little problem in that there are few dates. One is never quite sure where one is chronologically. I think this could have been remedied by putting the month and year in the margin, much as Robert Graves did in
I, Claudius
. This would have left unimpeded the free flow of the "autobiography" as they call it, with some justification.
A few things about his painting. Because of his liaison with Sien, Anton Mauve ejected him from his studio and he did not learn to paint from Mauve. What a blessing this was for all of us, since he then had to virtually teach himself. This, I believe, is why his painting is so closely related to his drawing. His original drawings are often replicated in oil almost to the very penstroke.
What is called black and white is in fact
painting in black
--"painting" in this respect, that one gives in a drawing the depth of effect, the richness of tone value which must be in a picture [painting]. Every colorist has his own peculiar scale of colors. This is also the case in black and white; one must be able to go from the highest light to the deepest shadow, and this with only a few simple ingredients. (p.184)
In my view, if Mauve had taught him the standard techniques, there's a good chance, and he expresses a fear of this, that the paintings we would have today would be somewhat more conventional in execution. So losing Mauve as a mentor was enormously fortunate, though it did not seem so at the time.
Vincent's staunch romanticization of manual labor reminds me of the idiotic Soviet propaganda to come, though he has none of its strident militancy. He had no interest in politics despite the fact that he was miserably poor and living hand to mouth off of insufficient cash infusions from brother, Theo. Often he did not even have enough money for materials (paint, ink, paper, etc.). Imagine that! Vincent van Gogh sitting on his hands without even paper to draw upon!
As the early infatuation with Sien fades, he begins to see her for what she is--an uneducated woman who can't begin to appreciate his work; a funtionally illiterate woman whose brutish mother has instilled in her prejudices against
all
men as dirty rotten scoundrels and despicable violators of innocence. Ironically, it's her mother that seems to want her to return to her former position as breadwinner. Finally, after years of cohabitation, he leaves Sien and her children, whom he loves, in The Hague, in part because the cost cannot be sustained by Theo. He has come to realize she is too far gone to "save," but this only after he has estranged many of his family members. Now he moves to the countryside around Drethen (Netherlands) known for its exceptional natural beauty. At once the reader senses how much freer he is, unfettered. He grows almost sunny as he begins to assimilate the landscape and its inhabitants, the shoreline and canals--he rides barges through the very heath--the unusual local dress, the strangely cave-like cottages which are masterpieces of housekeeping and comfort inside.
When he moves to Arles in 1888, he becomes truly proficient as a painter. His industry is astounding. "Night Cafe" for instance was done in three consecutive nights. His "Sunflowers," a series of canvases, took about ten days. Often he would complete a canvas in a single day. His prose becomes chattier, livelier. He finishes the Rulin Family portraits, countless landscapes which must be worked on in the grip of the terrible regional wind, the mistral. There is much planning for the arrival of Gauguin, much discussion of starting a Southern School of sorts for the jaded artists of Le Petit Boulevard (the impressionists generally). But when Gaugain comes, after a few weeks of productive work, Vincent cuts off part of his ear and offers it to one of the sex workers in the local brothel who faints. He is later found by the gendarmes back at his house unconcious from loss of blood. Thus begins van Gogh's decline and it's one of the saddest, most heartbreaking prose sequences you'll ever read. Manic Depression is the disease and at the time there was no treatment; there wasn't even a reliable diagnosis. He was treated for epilepsy which he decidedly did not have.
The thoughts of suicide he mentions to Theo must have been terrifying for the younger brother. Yet he has always been financially dependent on Theo and the time is fast approaching when he will no longer allow himself, especially in the grip of his illness and with all the new costs of his care, to remain a burden. Throughout there has always been the hope that the paintings would eventually sell. They never do. And then he becomes all too aware of the dichotomy between starving, living artists like himself, and the recently dead artists whose work goes for great sums. He must have felt on some level that he'd be better off dead, especially since his demise would be such a relief to Theo, who had married and started a family. It's hard not to read the final pages as valedictory. Two days after the last letter Vincent is dead by his own hand. Theo survives him by a mere six months.
By all means read it, but be prepared to bleed.
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I finished reading Irvine Stone's Lust for Life within one day like finishing a page turner, but I finished reading Dear Theo - letters of Van Gogh after a long time reading - each time I turned the page, I heard myself saying: slow down, take time, and digest every word slowly, as if the sooner I finished reading, the quicker the joy of being with him would vanish.
Van Gogh struck the world with his paintings, he also touched my heart with his words. If we take language as a vehicle of thoughts,
I finished reading Irvine Stone's Lust for Life within one day like finishing a page turner, but I finished reading Dear Theo - letters of Van Gogh after a long time reading - each time I turned the page, I heard myself saying: slow down, take time, and digest every word slowly, as if the sooner I finished reading, the quicker the joy of being with him would vanish.
Van Gogh struck the world with his paintings, he also touched my heart with his words. If we take language as a vehicle of thoughts, Van Gogh deserved to be remembered as a great thinker. Through his words, I saw a man with deep contemplation, a soul that had a close connection with nature by every visible detail: trees, mountains, sky, and every inch of crop field.
If Van Gogh instilled his passion in all his art works, he recorded his thoughts in his words. We see frenzy colors in his paintings, but we will meet a lucid mind in his writings. He was not crazy, like many his contemporaries believed, he was just a special being with some simple needs that the world failed to give. In other words, the world was/is sick, not Van Gogh. Yet he offered to the world a tremendous amount of treasure. The world gave him grief, but he returned with the brilliance of Sunshine.
It has been over 25 years when I read this book. It was one of my precious collection, and shaped my view on art and life: an artist has to be true to him/herself before to be "great". By my opinion, Van Gogh may not be the most "skillful" (from traditional view) artist in history, but he was the most talented, and the first one who depicted himself without any "decoration" - such as techniques or concepts. He was completely "naked" in his works.
And I believe, the world would be different if we all naked like he was.
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This book is in serious need of a re-read. I read this when I was about thirteen, and aspiring to be an amazing artist. Vincent Van Gogh fascinated me. I never really loved his art (shhh) but the mad, passionate artist appealed to me. And can you get any madder, any more passionate than Vincent?
I also read this with much sympathy for Vincent's brother, Theo. What a long suffering, sweet person to stand by your side. Hero Theo.
I loved this book and Irving Stone's sister book,
Lust For Life.
Both
This book is in serious need of a re-read. I read this when I was about thirteen, and aspiring to be an amazing artist. Vincent Van Gogh fascinated me. I never really loved his art (shhh) but the mad, passionate artist appealed to me. And can you get any madder, any more passionate than Vincent?
I also read this with much sympathy for Vincent's brother, Theo. What a long suffering, sweet person to stand by your side. Hero Theo.
I loved this book and Irving Stone's sister book,
Lust For Life.
Both are amazingly memorable almost thirty years later.
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La sensibilità, non solo artistica; la coscienza dei propri limiti; le difficoltà economiche; le ombre della personalità; un'ingenuità genuina; e una caparbietà rara, da animale da tiro, contro tutto e tutti. Si passeggia con un senso di pudore dietro le quinte del genio, per trovare scintille.
It feels a bit strange that this book is finally over. It took me longer to read than most books and still I feel like the end came quite quickly. But then again, isn't that exactly the case with his life?
I read this book to learn more about van Gogh as a person and I must say that I was surprised. He wasn't what I expected him to be. If you have a somewhat mysterious or divine image of him, this book will probably crush it - in a good way. For me it meant putting an end to any sort of romantici
It feels a bit strange that this book is finally over. It took me longer to read than most books and still I feel like the end came quite quickly. But then again, isn't that exactly the case with his life?
I read this book to learn more about van Gogh as a person and I must say that I was surprised. He wasn't what I expected him to be. If you have a somewhat mysterious or divine image of him, this book will probably crush it - in a good way. For me it meant putting an end to any sort of romanticizing on his personality or life. After reading this book I don't anymore think that he was only a misunderstood poor soul neither do I see him as a mad genius. I think this book gives you a quite realistic image of him as a regular (yet extraordinary) human being. Through these letters you can see his flaws as well as his good features. And as a person he is very interesting.
For me one of the most interesting things in this book was van Gogh's relationship with Sien. There was something very unromantic yet moving about it. He also admired the peasants and their hard work and often saw himself as one of them. It is quite understandable since the amount of work he put into drawing and painting is incredible. Since I love drawing and painting, I found this very inspiring and motivating for myself too.
I feel a bit silly saying this, now that I've actually read the book, but I was surprised at how much he actually put work into his career. He sacrificed everything for it and that's why it's so heartbreaking that he didn't get the appreciation he deserved during his lifetime.
I would recommend this book to anyone who's interested in van Gogh, his art, his thoughts and his life. Especially if you like art in general as well. If you have some knowledge of the artists and writers he talks about (Delacroix, Millet and Zola for example) you will probably get even more out of it than I did. Also, I believe that this book can be a great inspiration on many areas, not only on painting and drawing.
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Avevo già letto e commentato (vedi libreria) una selezione delle lettere di Vincent, meno ampia di questa, costituita di soli scritti dedicati alla pittura. Qui, diversamente, le lettere scelte ci lasciano addentrare un po' di più nella psicologia del personaggio Vincent, nelle sue faticose relazioni familiari, nei segni che il pregiudizio ha inferto alla sua vita, nei dolori e nelle umiliazioni che patì, per il solo fatto di avere una sensibilità paradossale e un carattere ostinato. Ma anche un
Avevo già letto e commentato (vedi libreria) una selezione delle lettere di Vincent, meno ampia di questa, costituita di soli scritti dedicati alla pittura. Qui, diversamente, le lettere scelte ci lasciano addentrare un po' di più nella psicologia del personaggio Vincent, nelle sue faticose relazioni familiari, nei segni che il pregiudizio ha inferto alla sua vita, nei dolori e nelle umiliazioni che patì, per il solo fatto di avere una sensibilità paradossale e un carattere ostinato. Ma anche un padre duro. Ne esce un quadro doloroso e tenero, fatto di aspre delusioni; di teneri auspici e di una saggezza nobile. Che chiedeva soltanto di essere riconosciuta. E che non bastò.
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"Wait, perhaps you will see some day that I too am an artist, though I do not know beforehand what I can do; I hope I shall be able to make some drawings in which there is something human."
after i learned to treat this like reading someone else's mail, exactly what it is, i ended up enjoying having such a personal view of vincent's day-to-day. some of the passages about inspiration and how it is to be caught in a fury of creation and "become hopelessly absent-minded and incapable of heaps of ord
"Wait, perhaps you will see some day that I too am an artist, though I do not know beforehand what I can do; I hope I shall be able to make some drawings in which there is something human."
after i learned to treat this like reading someone else's mail, exactly what it is, i ended up enjoying having such a personal view of vincent's day-to-day. some of the passages about inspiration and how it is to be caught in a fury of creation and "become hopelessly absent-minded and incapable of heaps of ordinary things," and how, "the storm within gets too loud," sounded remarkably familiar. it's a strange way to get to know such an artist, through his own words from a perspective he never enjoyed.
though a lot of this reads more like an inventory of his works, finances and reading material, there's so much in here for anyone who's ever painted but felt not quite a painter. and for romantics who feel they are alone in the world and haven't given up the ghost.
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Van Gogh was clearly not mad, rather he was articulate, well read, thoughtful (and perhaps a bit desperate). Heartbreaking at times since we all know how it ends
Sadece benim gibi Van Gogh hayranlarının değil, edebiyata, felsefeye, piskolojiye, sanatsal yaratıcılık serüvenine merakı olanların da ilgileneceği bir kitap. Pınar Kür de bu değerli mektupları büyük bir özen ve ustalıkla çevirmiş. Mektupları okumadan önce sanatçının hayatını ve eserlerini (mektuplar okunurken de incelenebilir) incelemekte fayda var.
Farzedin ki; yürürken elinize çok eskimiş bir çuval geçti, içerisinde bir yığın mektup buldunuz. Bu mektuplar, içerisinde yaşamsal enerijiyi bütün çoşkunluğuyla yaşayıp tüm mağduriyetine boyun eğerek verdiği mücadeleyi yazan Vincent Van Gogh. Abinin kardeşi Theo'ya yazdığı mektupları bizde bir göz atma fırsatı buluyoruz. Mektupları incelediğimizde, cesaretiniz varsa eğer bir yola çıktığınızda ne kadar şeyden vazgeçebiliceğinizin bir listesini ortaya koymaktadır.Nasıl derseniz eğer efsanevi bir b
Farzedin ki; yürürken elinize çok eskimiş bir çuval geçti, içerisinde bir yığın mektup buldunuz. Bu mektuplar, içerisinde yaşamsal enerijiyi bütün çoşkunluğuyla yaşayıp tüm mağduriyetine boyun eğerek verdiği mücadeleyi yazan Vincent Van Gogh. Abinin kardeşi Theo'ya yazdığı mektupları bizde bir göz atma fırsatı buluyoruz. Mektupları incelediğimizde, cesaretiniz varsa eğer bir yola çıktığınızda ne kadar şeyden vazgeçebiliceğinizin bir listesini ortaya koymaktadır.Nasıl derseniz eğer efsanevi bir başarı ise yolunuz Gururdan, Huzurdan, aileden, sağlıktan, cinsellikten, zevki sefaden, gibi gibi şeylerden vazgeçebiliyorsanız ancak bir Van Gogh olabilirsiniz.Dostum ne gerek var dersen eğer...O binbir türlü renklerin içindeki efsanevi çoşkunluğa ulaşmadan bu diyarı terk edersin...
( Not olarak belirtmek isterimki Mektupların Tercümesini gerçekten başarılı buldum.Pınar Kür'e teşekkür ederim.)
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Beautiful and heartbreaking. VVG thought deeply about the nature of art and its relation to life and labor. It's not quite an autobiography but a collection of letters to his brother Theo. VVG spent most of his life searching to find his way as an artist, thoroughly dependent on his art dealer brother, and unable to form lasting relationships (though he desperately craves them) with other artists and family members. At last, he begins to develop his stride over the last two years of his life, as
Beautiful and heartbreaking. VVG thought deeply about the nature of art and its relation to life and labor. It's not quite an autobiography but a collection of letters to his brother Theo. VVG spent most of his life searching to find his way as an artist, thoroughly dependent on his art dealer brother, and unable to form lasting relationships (though he desperately craves them) with other artists and family members. At last, he begins to develop his stride over the last two years of his life, as he struggles with increasingly frequent attacks of madness. His intense description of these pleasures and sorrows is compelling and further illuminates his stunning body of work. Though the editor doesn't give enough contextual information about the letters and no information is given about the translation, it's still a worthwhile read.
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Van Gogh, tristemente, nunca se consideró a sí mismo como un gran pintor, murió pensando que su nombre quedaría en el olvido, y que su vida había sido un fracaso total. Las correspondencia que tuvo con su hermano permite conocer, de su propia voz, su miseria y su genialidad: la forma en que administraba sus mendrugos de pan negro, y sus teorías acerca del color, de la pintura y de la vida; dejan entrever a un ser humano sufriente y sensible que lucha por mantener la cordura a medida que cambia p
Van Gogh, tristemente, nunca se consideró a sí mismo como un gran pintor, murió pensando que su nombre quedaría en el olvido, y que su vida había sido un fracaso total. Las correspondencia que tuvo con su hermano permite conocer, de su propia voz, su miseria y su genialidad: la forma en que administraba sus mendrugos de pan negro, y sus teorías acerca del color, de la pintura y de la vida; dejan entrever a un ser humano sufriente y sensible que lucha por mantener la cordura a medida que cambia para siempre la forma de hacer arte.
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Mi sono accostato a questo libro con molte aspettative, probabilmente troppe.
Premetto di non essere neanche lontanamente un esperto, né di arte né di Van Gogh, ma le sue opere mi piacciono e ho sempre trovato interessante quel poco che sapevo della sua vita privata, tanto da volermi far desiderare di approfondire un po'.
Ho immaginato che leggere le sue lettere al fratello Theo potesse essere un buon modo di avvicinarmi al personaggio, di entrare nella sua testa, nella sua vita e, soprattutto, ne
Mi sono accostato a questo libro con molte aspettative, probabilmente troppe.
Premetto di non essere neanche lontanamente un esperto, né di arte né di Van Gogh, ma le sue opere mi piacciono e ho sempre trovato interessante quel poco che sapevo della sua vita privata, tanto da volermi far desiderare di approfondire un po'.
Ho immaginato che leggere le sue lettere al fratello Theo potesse essere un buon modo di avvicinarmi al personaggio, di entrare nella sua testa, nella sua vita e, soprattutto, nel suo cuore.
Sbagliavo, purtroppo, per vari problemi, molti dei quali assolutamente soggettivi e qualcuno forse più oggettivo.
Una buona parte delle lettere è spesso e volentieri concentrata sulle richieste di denaro da parte di Vincent al fratello e sulla periodica comprensione/incomprensione coi genitori o con Theo stesso.
Il carattere burrascoso di Vincent viene fuori in parecchie lettere così come quella che io ho percepito (ma qui potrei sbagliarmi, posso solo trasmettere le mie impressioni) come un periodico ricatto morale nei confronti del fratello: "io non ti chiedo niente, ma sappi che se voglio mangiare ho bisogno di tot, altrimenti finirò per stare molto male"; un ricatto morale che ho trovato diventare veramente intollerabile nel momento in cui il pittore decise di mantenere a sue spese una persona incinta e madre di un altro figlio (entrambi non suoi) e di cui, esplicitamente, aveva deciso di occuparsi per solitudine pur continuando a farsi passare i soldi del fratello che, pur non approvando, continuò a inviarli.
Molte lettere sono incentrate su questo contrasto tra ciò che il pittore riteneva suo dovere morale e suo diritto in quanto uomo e il suo, dall'altra parte, continuare a chiedere denaro per poter studiare e produrre.
Un contrasto che, per fortuna, negli anni sembra venire meno e lì si possono trovare contenuti più interessanti, con un Van Gogh che racconta al fratello ciò che vuole ottenere con le varie tecniche e, soprattutto, che racconta a parole quegli scorci che poi cercherà di rendere su tela e lo trasformeranno nel mito arrivato fino a noi.
Ma, ahimé, anche questa parte non mi ha coinvolto: interessante, certo, ma tecnica, molto tecnica, troppo per qualcuno come me più interessato, in questo caso, all'aspetto umano che a quello artistico.
La parte finale è quella senza dubbio più interessante, tanto che l'ho letta molto più in fretta: si percepisce meglio il dolore per la sua situazione, si intravede la sua speranza di stare meglio e la sua voglia di sdebitarsi col fratello.
Però non è il libro che speravo e non mi ha dato quell'empatia che credevo di poter ottenere.
Penso che, in parte, il problema stia proprio nel tipo di libro: le lettere che scriviamo a qualcuno, soprattutto intimo, contengono spesso i nostri pensieri del momento, i nostri asti, le nostre difficoltà ma, paradossalmente, non raccontano di noi come persone; non i nostri gesti, non i nostri sentimenti quotidiani, non i nostri pensieri ricorrenti.
Sono fotografie e, in quanto tali, possono rendere quel che siamo, abbellirci oppure sminuirci.
L'impressione che ho avuto è che molte di queste lettere avessero l'ultimo effetto, purtroppo: non che manchino spunti interessanti e frasi che possano colpire, ma nell'insieme sono rimasto veramente freddo.
Ragionandoci penso, semplicemente, di non essere il target giusto per un libro come questo che (lo noto vedendo le recensioni su goodreads) ha sicuramente terreno fertile sugli appassionati che abbiano voglia di approfondire e completare, piuttosto che di scoprire partendo quasi da zero.
Peccato.
Aggiungo una nota per la traduzione: il libro contiene diverse citazioni in francese e quel che non capisco è per quale motivo si sia deciso di non tradurle neanche con note a pié di pagina, lasciandole in lingua nel testo; trattandosi di citazioni o frasi che Van Gogh usava per spiegare un punto di vista al fratello, la loro mancata traduzione porta anche all'impossibilità da parte del lettore non francofono di comprenderle in toto.
This is a hard book to rate or write about. It is a book of letters all, written by Vincent Van Gogh to his brother, Theo. That is all. It is not a difficult read. It is exhusting. Van Gogh was a driven man. He was not easy and he was so single minded. It is hard to read his letters, but there are some wonderful passages, when he talks about colors and what he sees and how he feels.
He loved his brother Theo, and depended entirely on him for his income to live and paint. It was never a happy lif
This is a hard book to rate or write about. It is a book of letters all, written by Vincent Van Gogh to his brother, Theo. That is all. It is not a difficult read. It is exhusting. Van Gogh was a driven man. He was not easy and he was so single minded. It is hard to read his letters, but there are some wonderful passages, when he talks about colors and what he sees and how he feels.
He loved his brother Theo, and depended entirely on him for his income to live and paint. It was never a happy life. He always needed more money than he had and was willing to ruin his health and almost every relationship he ever had for his desire to make a living off of his art, which he never did.
He was well read, and a good writer. He had no care about himself except to produce - to make money. His clothes were always ragged and 2nd hand - given to him mostly by his family. He went for days and weeks at a time on the brink of starvation. He was always in pain from his bad teeth and his poor health, but he could shut it all out when he was painting or drawing. He worked so hard to capture what he saw and to put his feelings into his art. He thought of his art as a short-hand of what he saw in nature. I loved reading those parts.
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Un libro que muestra la genialidad de Van Gogh. Desearía haber leído este libro años atrás.
Estar en su cabeza durante su locura y comprender como él que lo más importante es trabajar en lo que amas, me ha conmovido hasta el extremo.
Amo a este hombre, por su obra y su persona.
Con este libro te llevás una mirada profunda a quién era Vincent Van Gogh, su vida y obra tan indivisible como dicen en la introducción. Te da una idea de sus diferentes períodos y cómo se relacionan con los lugares donde vivió.
En sus cartas Vincent menciona montones de artistas, cuadros o describe obras en las que él trabajaba en ese momento; mientras leía iba buscando todas estas cosas a las que hace referencia para expandir la experiencia. Me armé una linda carpeta de imágenes! Su mundo era
Con este libro te llevás una mirada profunda a quién era Vincent Van Gogh, su vida y obra tan indivisible como dicen en la introducción. Te da una idea de sus diferentes períodos y cómo se relacionan con los lugares donde vivió.
En sus cartas Vincent menciona montones de artistas, cuadros o describe obras en las que él trabajaba en ese momento; mientras leía iba buscando todas estas cosas a las que hace referencia para expandir la experiencia. Me armé una linda carpeta de imágenes! Su mundo era muy visual. Cuándo ve un paisaje o una persona la traduce en un pinceladas y colores (y así las describe en sus cartas). Leer a Van Gogh hablando de colores es simplemente hermoso.
Es muy irónico que mientras más dura y triste se volvía su vida, y más con la enfermedad mental, más geniales se volvían sus cuadros. Es una pena que no vivió para ver en lo que se convirtió; pero por otro lado no le gustaba recibir atención (lo menciona al final, con un artículo que escriben de él) y era un hombre que valoraba lo simple, así que no sé que conclusión sacar de eso.
En fin, es muy bueno, léanlo. Dejo unas frases que me gustaron:
"Dile que mi gran deseo es aprender a pintar esas inexactitudes, esas anomalías, esas reconstrucciones, esas modificaciones de la realidad, para que todo eso pueda convertirse, ¡claro que sí!, en mentiras, si se quiere, pero mentiras más verdaderas que la verdad literal."
"No me parece imposible que el cólera, los cálculos, la tisis, el cáncer, sean medios de locomoción celestes, como los barcos a vapor, los ómnibus y el tren son los terrestres. Morir tranquilamente de vejez sería ir a pie."
"Un sol, una luz, que a falta de otra cosa mejor no puedo llamar más que amarillo, amarillo azufre pálido, limón pálido oro. ¡Qué hermoso es el amarillo!"
"Y bien, sabes lo que espero, una vez que me pongo a tener esperanzas, que la familia sea para ti lo que para mí es la naturaleza, los terrones de tierra, la hierba, el trigo joven, el paisano, es decir que en tu amor por la gente encuentres no solamente con qué trabajar sino también con que consolarte y recuperarte, cuando lo necesites."
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Simply beautiful. The way he describes what he sees gives you a glimpse into how he composes his paintings. He views landscapes in patches of color and harmonies. It makes me want to view the world this way. Here is a random example of what I mean: "I am making a study of a red sun between the little birches on a marshy meadow, from which the white evening damp rises; beyond the meadow one can just discern at the horizon a bluish-grey line of trees with a few roofs."
This book is also very sad. V
Simply beautiful. The way he describes what he sees gives you a glimpse into how he composes his paintings. He views landscapes in patches of color and harmonies. It makes me want to view the world this way. Here is a random example of what I mean: "I am making a study of a red sun between the little birches on a marshy meadow, from which the white evening damp rises; beyond the meadow one can just discern at the horizon a bluish-grey line of trees with a few roofs."
This book is also very sad. Vincent is so discouraged, so beaten about painting. He doesn't show them because he thinks they are no good. He never earns any money for himself. Thank you Vincent for painting anyway. And I would like to say thank you also to Theo, for supporting him and letting him paint.
I have gotten a lot of painting tips from this book as well- “For if one works in too dark a room, the work usually becomes too light, so that when one brings it out to the light, all the shadows are too weak."
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Really not what I expected, but kind of fascinating nonetheless. I expected to be riveted by the emotionally charged ravings of a brilliant lunatic - mad love affairs provoking jealous rages and self-mutilation. Instead van Gogh for the most part appears to be an entirely different man than the stereotype of the "crazy starving artist."
The only thing that seems crazy about him is that he literally appears to have spent his every waking moment painting. He does not have any close emotional bonds
Really not what I expected, but kind of fascinating nonetheless. I expected to be riveted by the emotionally charged ravings of a brilliant lunatic - mad love affairs provoking jealous rages and self-mutilation. Instead van Gogh for the most part appears to be an entirely different man than the stereotype of the "crazy starving artist."
The only thing that seems crazy about him is that he literally appears to have spent his every waking moment painting. He does not have any close emotional bonds with anyone (aside from his brother). While he tries to maintain a couple friendships with some other artists, they are usually short-lived. He did have this woman in his life for a time, but she by no means seemed to have been a great love for him, at the very least, there was no mention of lust. Of course, these are letters to his brother, but still, they are basically a diary. What ends up being closest to van Gogh's heart is, so endearingly, the colors of the trees and flowers, fields, the peasants' faces, buildings, bridges, paint, beauty. He talks about this stuff non-stop. This makes for rather a dull read, but a very interesting portrait of someone when its all said and done.
He was literally starving also. Living on 20 cups of coffee and a few crusts of bread for a week routinely. How he managed to paint in such a state I have no idea!
I spent much of my time reading this book waiting for the infamous ear sequence, but when it finally arrived, I wasn't surprised at all at how anti-climatic it was. Van Gogh has spells and illnesses its hard to tell what's causing them... for the most part, he seems to be an incredibly upbeat, optimistic, lovely, goodnatured, and goodhearted man. Although he certainly had social issues as he couldn't make/keep friends, his one confidant, his brother, he's always asking his brother for money in a sort of weird wa, ...hmmm, the quote about not living, just painting, fear of living as suffering... loneliness, work but no fame, why the spells?
This article about the ear suggests it was in fact Gaugin who cut off van Gogh's ear during a fencing fight, but the two covered up the truth so Gaugin wouldn't suffer the consequences.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesig...
. Van Gogh's mental illness seems directly related to physical weakness or conditions - fever, not eating enough, the paints! I have no doubt that his illness caused depression and or manic episodes, but I'd be hesitant to call him "bipolar" per se, as his illness really only seems to crop up in the end of his life and again is intrinsically linked to physical illnesses.
In the end, it is in fact van Gogh's eternal optimism and love of colors that breaks my heart. Even when he is confined in an asylum, he writes to his brother: "I have a little room with greenish-grey paper, with two curtains of sea-green with a design of very pale roses, brightened by slight touches of blood-red. These curtains, probably relics of some rich and ruined defunct, are very pretty in design. From the same source probably comes a very worn armchair, recovered with an upholstery, splashed like a Dias or a Monticelli, with brown, red, white, black, forget-me-not blue, and bottle-green. Through the iron-barred window I see a square of corn in an enclosure, a perspective like van Goyen, above which I see in the morning the sun rising in his glory."
I'm fairly certain that a depressive would never describe the upholstery of his surroundings in such a way. While van Gogh was indeed a queer queer man, it was not in the way I expected, or the way I feel popular culture has defined him.
On the one hand, I pity him: how hard he worked, how beautiful his paintings were, and how little recognition he ever received while alive, how poor he was, how destitute, and how he ended up. And yet, perhaps the man who has spent the prime of his life spending nearly every waking minute doing what he absolutely loved, and even until the very end still doing that despite everything, is a man to be envied.
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Vincent hace que sea muy fácil que te metas en su piel y veas la vida con sus ojos. Al leer sus cartas, te das cuenta de lo apasionado que era, de su afán por aprender y siempre mejorar, por conocer, por encontrar la manera de darle significado al cúmulo de emociones que se blandían en su interior, al igual que su tristeza, frustración y posterior deterioro mental y espiritual. Quizá la frase inicial expone de una manera muy simplista todo, pero es uno de esos libros que hacen que todo tenga sen
Vincent hace que sea muy fácil que te metas en su piel y veas la vida con sus ojos. Al leer sus cartas, te das cuenta de lo apasionado que era, de su afán por aprender y siempre mejorar, por conocer, por encontrar la manera de darle significado al cúmulo de emociones que se blandían en su interior, al igual que su tristeza, frustración y posterior deterioro mental y espiritual. Quizá la frase inicial expone de una manera muy simplista todo, pero es uno de esos libros que hacen que todo tenga sentido de repente. Nunca podré expresar la influencia que estas cartas han tenido en mí.
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Putem să-i spunem profeţie sau intuiţie, chiar nu are importanţă, dar ideal ar fi să-l bănuim de conştientizarea propriei valori; şi când spun asta, departe de mine intenţia de a ermetiza superlativele în clişee. Nu e cazul, şi oricum nu vor fi niciodată suficiente pentru a-i cuprinde, înţelege şi aprecia opera. Pare greu de crezut că Viile roşii din Arles este singurul tablou pe care artistul batav l-a vândut în timpul vieţii sale, dar acesta este adevărul. Astăzi, cele trei picturi în ulei int
Putem să-i spunem profeţie sau intuiţie, chiar nu are importanţă, dar ideal ar fi să-l bănuim de conştientizarea propriei valori; şi când spun asta, departe de mine intenţia de a ermetiza superlativele în clişee. Nu e cazul, şi oricum nu vor fi niciodată suficiente pentru a-i cuprinde, înţelege şi aprecia opera. Pare greu de crezut că Viile roşii din Arles este singurul tablou pe care artistul batav l-a vândut în timpul vieţii sale, dar acesta este adevărul. Astăzi, cele trei picturi în ulei intrate în Top 10, cele mai vândute tablouri din lume, Portretul Doctorului Gachet, Irişi şi Portretul lui Joseph Roulin valorează nu mai puţin de 335,5 milioane dolari… Nu-i aşa că vă stârneşte un zâmbet amar în colţul gurii?
This is one of my Top Five All Time Favorites, in a permanent position. Vincent's letters reveal his tormented yet beautiful soul. If you love, admire, or just appreciate his art, you will learn to love, admire, and appreciate him as a writer, a Christian, and brother. This is one of the "old friends" I like to re-visit.
In this compilation of letters, you will get to go deeper into Theo and Vincent's relationship, as well as to get to know more about the lonely life of this famous painter and his mental illness. You will see that these two brothers were so close to each other,Theo never doubt and was a big support for Vincent, financially and morally speaking, he always was worried about his brother's health and offered him to stay in Paris with him and his family (multiple times) but of course, Vincent didn't
In this compilation of letters, you will get to go deeper into Theo and Vincent's relationship, as well as to get to know more about the lonely life of this famous painter and his mental illness. You will see that these two brothers were so close to each other,Theo never doubt and was a big support for Vincent, financially and morally speaking, he always was worried about his brother's health and offered him to stay in Paris with him and his family (multiple times) but of course, Vincent didn't wanted to bother but maybe the strong reason was that he loved the quite of the countryside and the nature so much, so he couln't leave his unconcerned or serene life (obsviously omotting his fits of madness, and the fact that in his last week, he decided to finally meet Theo and family in Paris for 4 days).
Aside his crisis, Vincent always tried not to worry his brother too much and not hurried him about money (you can notice that whenever he asks for money, he was ashamed) but Theo always helped him.
Vincent Van Gogh wrote 650 letters to Theo and paint over 900 paintings.
You will also read about the time Vincent lived in Arles and spent (for a few months) with another post-impressionist painter, Paul Gauguin painting. And in Saint-Rémy, the mental hospital he stayed for a year, or when he go to Auvers-sur-Oise to see a doctor because he believed Saint-Rémy wasn't helping anymore to his recover.
My dear Theo,
Thanks for your letter, I was glad to hear that you got back safely. I missed you the first few days, and it was strange for me not to find you when I came home in the afternoon.
We spent some pleasant days together, and actually did go for some walks and see a thing or two whenever we had the chance.
What terrible weather, you must feel anxious on your walks to Oisterwijk. Yesterday there were trotting races on the occasion of the exhibition,2 but the ill
The Hague, 29 September 1872.
My dear Theo,
Thanks for your letter, I was glad to hear that you got back safely. I missed you the first few days, and it was strange for me not to find you when I came home in the afternoon.
We spent some pleasant days together, and actually did go for some walks and see a thing or two whenever we had the chance.
What terrible weather, you must feel anxious on your walks to Oisterwijk. Yesterday there were trotting races on the occasion of the exhibition,2 but the illumination and fireworks were postponed because of the bad weather, so it’s just as well you didn’t stay to see them. Regards from the Haanebeeks and the Rooses. Ever,
yaşadığı dönemi, içinde bulunduğu ruh halini en samimi şekilde okuyup anlayabileceğiniz bir kitap. yine de bu kadar yaratma isteği olan bir adamın intiharını anlamama yetmedi.
çok güzel adammış be !
I had to read these letters slowly, because each brought a flood of color, art, and human emotions to my mind. Vincent was very well read, and he wrote almost as beautifully as he painted
Interesante como relato en primera persona de la actividad pictórica, la concepción y la praxis artística.
Es una colección de cartas, por lo que no hay desarrollo de la acción.
I have avoided this book for years as I felt a compilation of one side of one set of correspondence (with his brother Theo) and calling it an "autobiography" was a transparent marketing move to capitalize on the success of
Lust for Life
. Well, even if that is true, this is a moving epistolary
"It is a pity that, as one gradually gains experience, one gradually loses one's youth. If that were not so, life would be too good."
I have avoided this book for years as I felt a compilation of one side of one set of correspondence (with his brother Theo) and calling it an "autobiography" was a transparent marketing move to capitalize on the success of
Lust for Life
. Well, even if that is true, this is a moving epistolary self-portrait. Like many artist biographies, the self-sacrifice of anonymity and privation seem
de rigeur
for the development of peak potential. Such self-imposed hardship can be destabilizing and Vincent does not find brothels, smoking, and drinking enough to balance groveling to his family for support and understanding. This is something really affecting and pitiful how Vincent's too desperate and eager slips into adoration leave him bereft of the meaningful human companionship he seeks adding to a life increasingly punctuated with physical and psychotic breakdowns culminating in this last pained letter dated two days before his suicide of 29 July 1890.
I was surprised to learn of the extreme piety and strenuous efforts to get officially behind the pulpit that is a recurring theme of the first third of the book, and another source of dissatisfaction for this most self-critical of individuals.
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In 1923, Stone received his bachelor's degree from the University of California, Berkeley. In the 1960s, Stone received an honorary Doctorate of Letters from the University of Southern California, where he had previously earned a Masters Degree from the College of Letters, Arts, and Sciences.
When at home, Stone relied upon the research facilities and expertise made available to him by Esther Euler
In 1923, Stone received his bachelor's degree from the University of California, Berkeley. In the 1960s, Stone received an honorary Doctorate of Letters from the University of Southern California, where he had previously earned a Masters Degree from the College of Letters, Arts, and Sciences.
When at home, Stone relied upon the research facilities and expertise made available to him by Esther Euler, head research librarian of the University of California at Los Angeles, to whom he dedicated and thanked, in addition to many others, in several of his works.
Stone enjoyed a long marriage to his wife and editor on many of his works, Jean Stone. The Stones lived primarily in Los Angeles, California. During their lifetime, Stone and his wife funded a foundation to support charitable causes they believed in.
Stone's main source for Lust for Life, as noted in the afterword, were Van Gogh's letters to his brother Theo. It seems probable that Vincent's letters to and from his own brother Theo provided a foundation for Adversary in the House. Stone additionally did much of his research "in the field". For example, he spent many years living in Italy while working on The Agony and the Ecstasy. The Italian government lauded Stone with several honorary awards during this period for his cultural achievements highlighting Italian history.
“There was a sentence in your letter that struck me, “I wish I were far away from everything, I am the cause of all, and bring only sorrow to everybody, I alone have brought all this misery on myself and others.” These words struck me because that same feeling, just the same, not more nor less, is also on my conscience.”
—
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“We feel lonely now and then and long for friends and think we should be quite different and happier if we found a friend of whom we might say: “He is the one.” But you, too, will begin to learn that there is much self-deception behind this longing; if we yielded too much to it, it would lead us from the road.”
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Jul 29, 2015 04:18PM
Jul 29, 2015 08:20PM