[Arles, Mid-October 1888]
My dear Theo,
At last I am sending you a small sketch to give you at least an idea of the form which the work is taking. For today I am all right again. My eyes are still tired, but then I had a new idea in my head and here is the sketch of it. Another canvas of size 30. This time it’s just simply my bedroom, only here colour is to do everything, and giving by its simplification a grander scheme to things, is to be suggestive here of rest or of sleep in general. In a word, to look at the picture ought to rest the brain or rather the imagination.
The walls are pale violet. The floor is of red tiles.
The wood of the bed and chairs is the yellow of fresh butter, the sheet and pillows of very light yellow-green.
The coverlet scarlet. The window green.
The toilet table orange, the basin blue.
The doors lilac.
And that is all. There is nothing in this room with closed shutters.
The broad lines of the furniture must again express inviolable rest. Portraits on the walls, and a mirror and a towel, and some clothes.
The frame—as there is no white in the picture—will be white.
This by way of revenge for the enforced rest I have been obliged to take.
I shall work at it again all day tomorrow, but you see how simple the conception is. The shadows and the thrown shadows are suppressed, it is coloured in free flat tones like Japanese prints. It is going to be a contrast with, for instance, the Tarascon diligence and the night café.
I am not writing you a long letter, because tomorrow very early I am going to begin in the cool morning light, so as to finish my canvas.
How are the pains? Do not forget to tell me about them.
I hope that you will write one of these days.
I will make you sketches of the other rooms too some day.
With a good handshake,
Yours,
Vincent
a wayfarer’s notes 
Vincent,
I love the painting on the wall. Did you paint it on the wall, or does it look that way because it isn't framed?
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No it was my famous namesake. I wanted to update the post but the internet was down, so it was a work in progress in more ways than one.
I've now added Vincent van Gogh's letter to his brother Theo describing the picture he planned to paint, and attached a view of how it actually looks.
I put the poster on the wall yesterday. The photo catches various reflections, including one of my computer screen showing an earlier photo of the same scene, next to the closed venetian blinds near my desk.
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It's not framed as you say but it has a clear sheet of polystyrene in front, with clips to a rigid backing.
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Your room is more restful than his but much less colorful.
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I like the way light is depicted at the window. If not for that, I'm not sure that I would care for it. It's interesting that he considered it “restful.” To me it seems anything but. It feels like there's a closeness about it, like the walls are bending it. I imagine it viewed from the perspective of someone standing with their boots and coat on, ready to go out and attend to some urgent business.
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I like the picture of your room, Vincent. You sure have a visually pleasing way of hanging clothing and socks, whether it's on the outside line or here.
Also, interesting you should post this, I have had Van Gogh on my mind the past few days.
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The colours on the one I show in the second illustration are a lot brighter than the one I have on my wall. It seems he painted three versions. One is in the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. I saw it last May. Another is in the Musée D’Orsay in Paris.
In any event, he declared his intention that “here colour is to do everything, and giving by its simplification a grander scheme to things, is to be suggestive here of rest or of sleep in general.” My own room has its colour scheme inspired by another of his paintings; but is generally muted and restful. It's a multifunctional room: study, spare bedroom, laundry-drying in winter, linen storage, and a passage to a smaller guest room.
To me the significance of the Van Gogh reproductions in this room is an echo of Vincent’s own feeling when he rented the house in Arles. He planned it as the hub of a little artists’ colony, and eagerly awaited the arrival of Gauguin. In the same way, I eagerly await the arrival of another writer, later in the year.
And when you think of it, eager anticipation is the very soul of artistic inspiration, for in our mind’s eye we see the thing which has not yet come to pass, like a prophet. Then we work to realise it, reliving the first chapter of Genesis in the process of creation: “and God saw that it was good.” Except that in our case the realisation can hardly match the plan.
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The version I reproduced is the final one, held in the Musée D’Orsay, but I've changed the photo to one which is less bright, closer to the colours on the poster I've hung.
Also you’ll find a copy of the sketch Vincent attached in his letter to Theo, and another sketch he sent to Gauguin.
When words fail me, which happens for days at a time, I plan to do a pastel of my room, for as Vincent v G shows, drawing and painting can achieve much more important content than mere photography, which is just the mechanical reflection of light from surfaces, and their mechanical capture in a camera, and mechanical digitization …
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Interesting that you have van Gogh on your mind, Rebb. That could be a topic for your journalling? – to investigate how he got there in your mind, and what it means.
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And there is much more to say about the colours in the painting, at any rate the one kept in Amsterdam. It appears that they have faded over time. See for example, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pgOm9rjEtgI.
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Vincent wrote:
“And when you think of it, eager anticipation is the very soul of artistic inspiration, for in our mind’s eye we see the thing which has not yet come to pass, like a prophet. Then we work to realise it, reliving the first chapter of Genesis in the process of creation: “and God saw that it was good.” Except that in our case the realisation can hardly match the plan.”
The hopes for the Yellow House turned tragic. The heavenly city was not to be realized in this world. Van Gogh like Blake lived by vision. Blake, however, had Catherine to tie him to this life, and an awareness of the ever-present God within.
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I don't have anything to add to the discussion. I just wanted to express my appreciation to you for never failing to inspire me.
It's so beautiful & remarkable how much you said in this brief post. The socks hanging inside to dry suggested to me that it could have been a dismal day outside & you were longing for the sensuous beauty of Spring. It's uncanny to me the way the photo of your room seems one & the same as Vincent's painting on your wall. I could sense how your souls are much the same.
Lol it's always so much fun to read your posts, but today was exceptionally nice. First you led me to Amsterdam. I looked at photos of it & read about it for hours & now I understand why everyone raves about it so. The architecture is beautiful…. except for the Van Gogh Museum. Why is that? I read about another museum there also, called the Kroller Muller Museum that has early sketches & paintings of his. It seems like it would be such a wonderful Museum to visit. It's a quiet setting & I read that they provide free bike rides to travel its 600 acres.
Someday (which will never come) I would love to see all the sights you see, but for now reading your blog is the next best thing. You posts always take me somewhere else after leaving here. I copied off & hung a drawing of Vincent's on my wall a bit ago. One of his 'Orphan Men” drawings. The one of the old war veteran holding the baby. I love that sketch. And now I'm traveling over to youtube to listen to that beautiful song 'Vincent'.
Sorry for rambling. I'm trying not too, but I do anyway. ;(
Thank you again! 🙂
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No need to apologize for rambling, Cindy! It’s what we do here. I don’t know the Orphan Men drawings. Must look that up.
And I’m delighted at your mention of the Kröller-Müller. Browsing their site, I see “Vincent is back!” – a two-part exhibition of their van Gogh works, the first open till 1st April this year. If we dropped everything else, we could go mad and pop in.
For a season of my episodic childhood I lived within a few miles of the Kröller-Müller. That was in 1949 and I’ve written about it here. But I didn’t see the museum till a return visit to my “aunt” in ’61. I understand there are van Gogh pieces there, but what impressed me most and still inspires me now is a large picture called The Storm, by Bart van der Leck.
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Thanks for the comparison between the lives of van Gogh and Blake, Ellie. I’m quite sure you’re right on this. VvG certainly needed a good woman in his life. But he was strongly religious too, shown not only in the attitude revealed in his letters but also his actions; for example his missionary work in a mining district of Belgium, where he insisted on giving away his stipend till he was as poor as the poorest family he met there. But he was unbalanced of course, and when I look back over my own life, it was unbalanced too until, in recent years, I met my own beloved who’s taught me to follow a steady path and be true to my own self.
And of course there is a great difference between being “strongly religious” and having a true “awareness of the ever-present God within”.
The first is driven by the sense of lack. The second feels the Presence.
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Lol 🙂 If I were to “go mad & pop in” on that exhibit, I fear I'd never come back from Hoge/Otterio. As it is something inside me is always trying to fly out & I have to yank it back in. Oooo, but I'd love nothing more than to soar over that National Park like a hawk. See it all and then find a quiet tree to be alone and rest my wings for 27 days. Then “pop in” on Queens Day. Which is sooo me, because my favorite color since childhood has always been orange lol.
Thanks for the link to your previous post. I hadn't read that one & it felt sacred. Like I was carefully turning the brittle pages of an old novel. Trying not to leave a trace that I had been there. Your memories of the time spent with your “bogus aunt” felt painful & miserable, but beautiful too. I watched an old classic World War II flick last week called 'Mrs. Miniver' & your recollection of that time period touched me in the same way. Left me with a lump in my throat.
🙂 As for your 'The Storm' I tried to like it. I even read about appreciating abstract. How I should let go of my need for words & let it take me somewhere. Let it lift me to a higher sphere. But I couldn't get passed the geometrical shapes. It was like being back in geomotry class all over again. Just horrible. Brought back a memory of how I became so frustrated with not understanding what my teacher was trying to explain to me, that I hit him over the head with my book. Got sent to the principle and he called my mom & told her “Cindy is intractable! She needs to pay attention…blah..blah” . “Intractable” is all I got of that painting. But I did try. Something more comforting urged me to go find solace by gazing at Maria Sybilla's paintings for a bit. “Septic” of me, huh? Lol I think I should do my traveling as a hawk if I ever do. I don't think I would quite fit in in your beautiful region of the world. 🙂
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The Storm is a very large painting and when I saw it in the Museum I didn’t like it either. But I bought a few postcards in the gift shop there and that was one of them. I kept it for years, and it grew on me, to the point where I painstakingly made a black and white bookplate from it, which I’ve reproduced here, larger than actual size. But I shan’t pursue the matter.
Let us turn to Maria Sybilla. Wonderful, and new to me. If I were ever to wear a tattoo (not even “over my dead body”!) it would be one of her paintings, perhaps her Caiman with South American false coral snake.
And I’ll follow up your tip about Mrs Miniver too.
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Oooh Vincent, your 'Blessedness' post touches me so very much. I won't taint it with my inferior comments as I did here, but please know always that you are the closest thing to a wiseman I have known & I am more than thankful & blessed to enter this sacred temple of yours.
🙂 I feel a little less dumb now that you said it took you a while to grasp 'The Storm' as well. Oooo & I love the template with your name! That is beautiful!
Oooo & don't you dare ever disgrace Maria Sybilla's art by making a tattoo of it… men…sigh… :-/. Refer back to your 'Lucky' post (July 2008) and I quote “Adopt the ideas of the crowd and you'll dwell in a world which has never existed except in cliches of song lyrics & journalism.” I re-create her art in to embroidery designs on my white cotton bohemian blouses, but that's different. No tattooing allowed! 🙂
“Mrs. Miniver” sadly is an American interruptation. I love it so, because I know no better. I would rather it had been genuine British. You might not like it.
Thank you for your “Blessedness” .
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