The night skies have never been more beautiful than when you painted them. You knew that those countless stars could never be given justice with random white specks. You knew there were green, yellow and orange orbs glowing in the sky. How long did you gaze at the sky? What did you see? I think if we would look at the sky the way you did, we would never know loneliness. Because, how can we possibly be alone with an expanse full of twinkling lights, glowing just for us?
“At present I absolutely want to paint a starry sky. It often seems to me that night is still more richly coloured than the day; having hues of the most intense violets, blues and greens. If only you pay attention to it, you will see that certain stars are lemon-yellow, others pink or a green, blue and forget-me-not brilliance. And without my expatiating on this theme, it is obvious that putting little white dots on the blue-black is not enough to paint a starry sky.”
― Vincent van Gogh
You found beauty in simplicity, stories in solitude. You saw masterpieces on tea towels. Black and white or the boldest palettes, you created nothing without emotion. And my goodness, not just any emotion! I see turmoil, I see rage, I see pain, but I also see calm, peace, serenity and joy. Tell me, how can I not be overwhelmed with awe? I shut my eyes and I see you dip your paint brush with such gusto, diving into the canvas. You forgot everything else when you did that, didn’t you? You captured everything, from old shoes to that rickety chair, from a lit-up café to bright and wilted sunflowers, from a dry and scorching field to one with vibrant lush greenery. You captured people you knew and the ones you just had a glimpse of. You showed us what we’d otherwise never see.
You simply captured life as it is: in its purest form.
“Great things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together.”
― Vincent Van Gogh
You drew light out of darkness, you brought hope where there it was easier to just believe there was none. Your irises remind of me that hope. Not the everyday kind. But the kind that pierces through a hard icy ground in full purple bloom. Yes, that hope.
You taught me that it’s me who decides what’s perfect and that it’s not just okay, but great to be different. You taught me that creating could keep me alive. You taught me that creating is love.
How art humbles us, and at the same time gives us the power to do anything- you taught me that.
If you could see today the love you left behind, imprinted into the soul of the world, oh dear Vincent, what would you say? I think you’d be speechless. And, I can’t seem to get that picture out of my head. I reach out and step into the scene. I look at you and your creations in reverence, knowing just what I would say to you,
“Dear Vincent, I love you for teaching me how to love life.”
Yours and everyone’s,
Just a girl living her dream
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