It was just over a week ago now that I tempted snowy fate to head down to McMaster University for Dr. Alison McQueen’s lecture, ‘An evening with Vincent van Gogh,’ the second of a public series of talks sponsored by the Friends of Art History at McMaster. Despite being one of those Friends (and I love that title, so very early nineteenth century), I missed the first lecture on Rembrandt on account of my stint away in England but was assured all the same that the serial recurrence of Dutch painters was sheer coincidence.
Coincidence, and also juicy fodder for biography, which Dr. McQueen unfolded in factual detail that was every bit as engrossing as all the misguided myth surrounding the man. By peeling back popular hyperbole to reveal the humble truths of van Gogh’s astonishingly brief but intense ten years of painting practice, Dr. McQueen revealed a narrative that does the artist far greater credit than that usually given by the archetype of the mad genius. The late creative start and minimal training that make his prodigious output so remarkable is balanced by the understanding of van Gogh as an avid reader and writer who was fluent in five languages and constantly engaged in current events and emerging trends. His awareness of impending post-impressionism and Japanese influences is owed to this astute observation of the wider world in which he lived – an outlook found in his earliest realist works that defies any simplistic read of van Gogh as an isolationist nutcase.
Another misconception that Dr. McQueen challenged throughout her lecture is the perception of van Gogh as a perpetually depressed and tortured artist. Plagued through he was by a debilitating form of epilepsy, his ability to commit himself completely to the making of art through the dubiously meagre blessings of his brother Theo was a cause of great satisfaction in his life as evinced by the enthusiasm and energy of his many surviving letters (which have recently been made fully available via the Van Gogh Museum online and in a sexy six-volume book edition that I will own one day, damn it). Most practicing artists know full well how impossible it is to create when depression strikes, and van Gogh’s incredible productivity – upwards of painting a new work every day of the last year of his life – flies in the face of this myth. While there’s much tutting about van Gogh’s failure to sell effectively during his own lifetime, he was unconcerned with his contemporary market; he lived for the making of art rather than public recognition of his efforts – the suicide for lack of careerist acclaim is a more contemporary phenomenon better demonstrated by the story of Francesca Woodman than that of Vincent van Gogh.
Though I have yet to test this for myself, I understand that the podcast recording of Dr. McQueen’s lecture should be available shortly through the Friends of Art History at McMaster – I’ll be sure to update here should I figure out how that works. In the meantime, my birthday is coming up, so…
