Sadness and Its Durability
Vincent Van Gogh, Wheat Field With Crows, 1890.
I’ve rushed here through the stalks
To ask you to rethink the whole death thing.
No, really, you’re going to be quite famous one day soon.
Don’t you want to see that happen?
Take advantage of the privileges and benefits that come with it?
Look at Picasso.
I know he wasn’t a contemporary of yours, but
He knew how to live well off his talent.
Though his varying wives and mistresses
Would probably beg to differ.
But still: he certainly enjoyed what came to him.
You didn’t see him chopping off bits himself
And giving them to prostitutes for safekeeping.
Or seeing yellow in the bottom of a glass of
Absinthe.
So get out of this field.
Theo won’t take it well, and
I just learned that “Wheat Field with Crows”
Wasn’t your last painting, like people romantically suggest.
Such a lonely scene, it had to foretell something
They think. Don’t hovering crows
And stormy skies signify madness at an end?
A few years back,
I saw this same painting turned into a doormat
In some catalog.
I was livid: this work,
This place the deed of death was started
(Supposedly)
Turned into
A place where people could grind mud
Into the lack of understanding in
What makes people tick.
I vowed never to buy from them again.
Such a sacrifice, eh?
But I did see “Starry Night” at the Met
Stood in front of it for a long, long time
People passing by me in a rush to get it all in
Before closing time.
I could have fallen in,
My eyes tracing lines of paint.
The poster at home doesn’t do it justice,
But it reminds me
Given a chance to travel time
I’ve hit this field,
Knowing what I do about
Sadness and its durability.
But now that I think about it,
I don’t think fame or money
Would be your cure.
Heather Blakey
Lori
Anita Marie
imogen88
gwenguin1
Cle
traveller2006
kvwordsmith
gailkav
cronelogical
shewolfy728
dcevaal
amazon3
themoonandstars
thalia
woodnymph
porchsitter
shelbloom
thecricketonthehearth
laralorelei
spacemonkey1996
Jill
Alexis
jodhiay
riverleigh
pearlz
Beth
what a wonderful love song to Vincent - too bad he never knew how much we who followed love him…I too have felt that feeling of “I could just fall into” a painting…until someone pulled me back…a great tribute to a great soul!
Kerry
kvwordsmith
17 May 08 at 12:51 am
This is a wonderful tribute to Vincent. I love his work, too, and I love what you say to him.
shewolfy728
17 May 08 at 3:24 am
All I can say is this:
Namaste.
Hugs and kisses,
GwenGuin
gwenguin1
17 May 08 at 4:14 am
What an amazing plea, which says it all. I think a lot of people would join you in this one, Joanne. I saw starry night in reality once at an exhibition and it was magical, even though it is quite a small piece. It was always larger in the imagination. Magnificent to read this work, a worthy plea.
imogen88
17 May 08 at 4:36 am
Your heart in your words - a befitting plea to a soul who seemed to have gotten lost. Beautifully said.
Jill
17 May 08 at 12:38 pm
Joanne, what a beautiful plea and wise words you’ve written as a tribute. Quite exquisite! Genece
espirit07
17 May 08 at 1:42 pm
A worthy tribute indeed to a man who knew not himself or the lasting impression and pleasure his work would bring to so many.
Vi
woodnymph
17 May 08 at 2:39 pm
Thanks, all. Like I said in the e-mail I sent, Genece’s letter to Jack London got me thinking about this again: it’s one of the things that I’ve always said I’d try to do if I had the ability to travel through time, but it’s tempered with knowing that sometimes people can’t (or don’t want) to see things that might help them, or that maybe I’m the wrong “helper” or naively approaching it from the wrong angle. A lot of thinking for an impossible thing!
My inner critic is in overdrive right now, and I appreciate the power you’ve given me to fight her.
jodhiay
17 May 08 at 3:26 pm
Vincent would love this and be so touched, as I was.
porchsitter
17 May 08 at 4:33 pm
Thanks, Barbara!
I’m hoping you enjoyed the sunshiny NJ day before the clouds rolled in again…
jodhiay
17 May 08 at 11:16 pm
The saddest of lines are amid this work Joanne. So thought provoking on so many levels.
Heather Blakey
17 May 08 at 11:56 pm
This is beautifully crafted, Joanne. Vincent’s life gives us so much in so many ways.
Lori
18 May 08 at 3:40 am
“The world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.”
This is lovely, Joanne, just what every lover of Vincent would say if they had these words - funny, I was just talking about Vincent with my daughter, who has struggled with narrow concepts of art from teachers and critics. I reminded her of Vincent’s words - “If you want to paint, just paint”, and that no one remembers the names of those who said Vincent couldn’t paint - we just remember Vincent.
gailkav
20 May 08 at 12:02 am