In the footsteps (and head) of Vincent van Gogh

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(Words from the artist - at last).

Such was Vincent Van Gogh’s mental state that in May 1889 he left Arles to admit himself into an asylum so he could be cared for. During the year he stayed at the monastery of St Paul de Mausole in Saint-Remy-de-Provence, despite days and sometimes weeks of incapacitation, he produced around 140 paintings and numerous drawings. It was a prodigious output - he was at ‘the height of his powers’. Sadly it was not many months after he left for Auvers-sur -Oise that the incident happened where he tragically died.

I, and many other painters before me, come here to be in the place where he was. We look at his (reconstructed) room in the asylum, take in the peace of the cloisters he painted, wander the surrounds marvelling that olive trees, cypruses, poppies are still evident as he witnessed and recorded in paint. The irises have finished showing, the lavenders are not yet out, the wheat is still green - Vincent experienced all four seasons’ offerings so could paint each one’s displays.

I make the walk ‘Les Paysages’ (the route) of Van Gogh from town up to St Paul’s, stopping at the 19 panels along the way displaying what he did where, together with some quotes from his letters to his brother Theo. Most are next to a wall where once were fields, so it is hard to get the feel, until I get to the entrance lane to the asylum - they look like it, yes, could they be, the very olive trees he painted over 100 years ago?

These questions, and others, fill my mind while walking. Why is this important? Is it to get closer to the troubled genius? To understand him more? I reflect that Vincent wanted artists to come around him, to live in a generous community around each other, but the experiment with Gauguin blew up that plan. But now, I come because of him, and hundreds, thousands perhaps, of artists have come now that he is dead. We surround his memory, we connect, we thank him him for his contribution. We also thank the loving sisters of St Paul who cared for him and gave him that supportive environment which enabled such a prolific period. It is moving to realise that the mentally unwell are still being cared for in this place, that tourist proceeds go towards the running of it, and that the gallery shows works done by the residents.

I come to some incomplete answers to my questions by the relatively simple conclusion that artists inspire other artists. That’s why I’m here. The long-dead Delacroix and Millet inspired Vincent; he ‘re-did’ them powerfully. I draw on that tradition. I am sure that I won’t rise to his heights, as I also have not been as lonely or internally in pain as Vincent was. But he wouldn’t wish that on me. I return to paint what he saw, and feel a warm connection.

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