Van Gogh Reborn! - Chapter 23
I couldn’t swallow my saliva.
I felt like something was struck on my throat.
To me, who wanted to put a small hope in life to at least one person who sees my painting, there could be no great appreciation that his words in the world.
“Let’s go see the next project.”
We moved rooms following Kevin’s instructions.
[Potato eaters] hang on a pole in the middle of the room.
“Of all of Vincent van Gogh’s early works, this is the most revealing of what he wanted to paint.”
Kevin’s eyes are warm when he sees [Potato Eaters].
“A peasant family is eating dinner by a lamp. The shadows are heavy and the overall atmosphere is dark. Through the hands and faces of people, you can see how hard their lives are.”
Looking at it now, it’s a picture I couldn’t draw.
However, as Kevin said, I realized what I wanted to paint with this picture.
“But the man with his head bowed and the woman looking at him worriedly. The appearance of pouring tea was not meant to represent their harsh life. Rather.”
“He wanted to paint a picture of them living their lives with love, even in that poverty.”
At my words, Kevin paused for a moment and then smiled.
“That’s right. The nobility of the family is well expressed. You know a lot about Van Gogh. Do you like him?”
I don’t .
In the village, I was like a madman, did only things I wanted and never talked to anyone, and finally leaving only sadness to my brother Theo, who was my last and only supporter.
I have failed in my life in many ways.
There’s no way I can love a guy like that.
But Kevin’s words of me and my paintings comforted my wounded heart.
“Of course, he is a big fan of Van Gogh. As soon as we landed at airport, all he said was going to Van Gogh museum. Right Little hun.?”
I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at grandpa’s words.
When I got on the elevator and got off the second floor, I saw [The Yellow house].
Arles, a small town in southern France.
When I see Arles, where I was the most comfortable and happiest in my life, I remember the things I went through at that time.
“The indigo sky and the yellow house, the green in between is exquisite. Van Gogh liked this kind of color arrangement.”
Kevin started explaining.
“It was destroyed during World War II, so now you can only find it as a picture.”
For giving a grand name World War II, something big must have happened.?
He said the 2nd, so it seems like it happened twice.
Nevertheless, the world has achieved such a dazzling growth, so human beings are truly incomprehensible.
After thinking about it briefly, I returned my gaze towards [The Yellow house]
‘I want to visit again.’
A place where yellow fluttered in every field in the daytime in summer, and a navy blue danced in the winter night sky.
I miss even those who drank loudly at the cafe in front of the house.
“Arles was a place that symbolized a new beginning for Vincent van Gogh. Feeling tired of living in Paris, he painted the nature of Arles and gradually created his own style of painting.”
As Kevin said, Paris at the time was full of chaos.
The streets were full of poop and rats, and people sprayed perfume as if their noses were crooked.
However.
It would be nice to be anywhere if Theo was next to me.
“Not all his life in Paris was bad.”
“Why do you think so?”
When I looked up at grandpa’s question, Kevin also looked at me with an interesting expression on his face.
“…because he was with Theo.”
“Certainly, there was a special bond between the brothers.”
Kevin nodded his head.
It happened 140 years ago, so even Kevin, who knows me well, doesn’t seem to know much about my life in Paris.
I opened my mouth for him, who protects the museum without a single visitor even though it is decorated so large and beautifully.
“Not many people listened to what Vincent said. Theo listened to every bit of his words.”
“Well. Van Gogh used to criticize the art world at the time for neglecting great painters like Jean-François Millet. He even had fight with many prominent painters at that time.”
Jean-François Millet painted ordinary people who were not noticed at the time.
Although he made masterpieces such as [The Gleaners] and [The End of the End], he was initially criticized with ridicule.
“ He is a passionate guy like our Hun. Right.?”
Grandpa’s hand stroking my hair felt comforting.
“Well. Clearly, such a statement remains in Van Gogh’s letters. But I think Theodore must have been busy with his job. Would there been any time for having a conversation?”
As Kevin who knows me well, this is an accurate point.
“Yes. Theo came in late at night because he was so busy. So they had no choice but to talk until late in the morning. It really… was a so special bond.”
I miss the time when I talked about art with Theo while gazing at the stars, shining bright, like us who shone bright while talking about art.
“If that were the case, then it makes sense that Theo sent his brother to Arles.”
I turned and looked at grandpa hearing his words.
“That’s right. It must have been quite painful if he had been working hard outside in the morning and get caught by his older brother in the night. He could not have time to rest.”
“Certainly it is possible. It was his brother Theodore who suggested Vincent van Gogh to live in Arles.”
“….Yes. The rent in Paris is too expensive.”
“They did not live together. Then the rent would have been too burdensome.”
“And there’s also Theo’s private life.”
“Yes. That’s it. Theo wanted to let his brother go.”
Grandpa and Kevin destroyed my vague and precious memories.
“This Little guy….I thought he only liked drawing pictures, but he also studied a lot.”
“The story he tells is a little richer and it also has a good reasoning.”
I felt a little sad while seeing Grandpa and Kevin praise me with a bright smile.
⏩⏩⏩⏩⏩⏩
It is an art museum to commemorate me, so I definitely wanted to visit it once again, but it seems to only cause scars.
There is no one here.
Even early in the morning, there are not many people.
It is a pity that there is no one in this spacious place except for me, my grandpa, and Kevin, who is our guide.
They made such a good art museum.
Receiving good reviews from even a few people is too much for me.
But, if the public doesn’t like it, this wide and straight art museum is just meaningless.
It’s just disappointing
“Let’s go see the next painting.”
I followed Kevin and moved my feet.
I turned around and walked away from the wall with [The yellow house].
After taking few steps in saw a very eerie painting inside the glass coffin.
[Vincent Van Gogh Painting Sunflowers] by Paul Gauguin.
How could they have a painting like that displayed in my art gallery?
It couldn’t be more insulting than this.
“This painting is Vincent van Gogh by Paul Gauguin. It’s very different from the impression you saw on the first floor, isn’t it?”
I was so upset that I was suppressing my anger, while Kevin added an explanation.
“Sometimes I am asked if Gauguin’s Van Gogh portrait is more realistic than Van Gogh’s self-portrait. People think that other people can see a person more objectively than he sees himself.”
“But Gauguin’s paintings are far from the truth. Arbitrary interpretation is strong. It is a virtue that an artist should have, but the problem was Gauguin’s character, which treated others as an insignificant being.”
Exactly.
If Kevin had not known that, I would not have been able to handle this resentment.
“Van Gogh was really upset when he saw this painting.”
I am still.
“He had an argument with Gauguin because their view of art was different, and this painting escalated the conflict. He painted the sunflower, which was like a symbol of Van Gogh, as helpless and insignificant.”
Paul Gauguin pinpointed my ideologies as insignificant and false.
“Both of them were geniuses who are indispensable in art history, but unlike Van Gogh, who considered Gauguin as a friend, Gauguin didn’t see it the same way.”
Grandpa sighed a little and said.
“Especially Paul Gauguin was the worst human being. He was a trash.”
“hahahah.”
Kevin laughed as if he felt a little sympathetic towards the past me.
“He told his wife that he would come back with success, when he went to Tahiti, but instead he married a minor girl there. Then he never went back. Does that sounds like a thing to do? I think he should be called a madman”
“He wasn’t very well received. He felt inferior to other successful artists and started slandering them, thus he was rejected by his fellow artists as well.”
Even after I left for Arles, I occasionally exchanged letters with him.
I never thought he would live like that after I died.
“He didn’t stop there. He deceived the Tahitians by claiming that he was an official painter dispatched from France and extracted money from them for his living. Such a scum, full of bluffs and pretense.”
I regret that I once thought he was a nice guy.
His last words to me came to my mind.
‘Vincent, I have no intention of rotting in this country with a loser like you.’
These are the words he said to me before I left for Arles.
“So, Little Hun, you shouldn’t have such trash as a friend like Van Gogh. You need to develop an eye for people.”
I believed that one day he will change his heart if I was sincere with him.
May be I was wrong.
I felt sorry for an old friend who lived a life full of lies despite having such outstanding skills.
‘Why did you do that?’
Have you been pushed to the point of leaning on a shallow lie that will all come to light as time goes by?
I wants to ask him, if there were any reason, that he had no choice but to live a life like that.
I’m not feel good.
“Let’s go see the next painting.”
Kevin suggested that we go to the next painting, but I refused.
No matter how good the words are, they don’t really touch my heart.
Only bad memories come to mind. In the end, all that’s left is this emptiness
No matter how much Kevin explains my injustice and explains my paintings in a good way, it is of no use if no one is looking for them.
“What…Are you feeling unwell?”
Grandpa asked anxiously.
“We are the only ones in this place.”
“Yes. After all, it’s not time to open yet.”
“Yes. It will be open soon, so it will be difficult to appreciate the paintings slowly.”
What does that mean?
“What do you mean by opening soon?”
“The original opening time is nine o’clock. Today, Sir Ko Sooyeol made a special request, so we let you in an hour earlier.”
I looked up at grandpa and asked.
“Really?”
“Hmmm. Although I feel embarrassed to say it. Grandpa did this for Hun. How was it. Don’t you thing your Grandpa is cool.?”
No….not cool.
Thank you, but I am not thankful at all.
Listening to an experts view on my painting is good, but I wanted to see how ordinary people look at my paintings.
“Then how many people usually come?”
“On average, we see over 5,000 people a day. Two million people come to see Vincent van Gogh’s work every year from all over the world.”
Before Kevin could finish his words, a murmur could be heard from the ground floor.
I became curious, and looked down the stairs.
There I saw dozens of people lined in a queue.
I don’t know what to do with my raging heart.
I became so emotional, that I couldn’t move.
“I know this. It’s Impasto. Right?”
“What floor are the sunflowers on?”
“Wow, look at this. I think the picture is reverberating.”
Before long, the second floor was also filled with people, and I couldn’t do anything other than watch at them looking at my paintings.
I’m short so I can’t even tell what picture they’re looking at.
What are they talking about ?
What kind of expression are they making, looking at my paintings.?
Tears welled up as I watched them.
Grandpa slowly opened his mouth seeing me.
“Little Hun.”
When I turned my head, Grandpa wiped my tears with his thumb and said:
“Baby, why are you crying?”
He hurriedly wiped my tears with his sleeve and when I was about to calm down, Kevin opened his mouth.
“I sometimes cry when I am here. Especially when you look at those sunflowers.”
People are covering their mouths in front of [Sunflowers] or holding their heads out and talking about this and that.
“Van Gogh wanted to give the common people grace and courage. Like the sun shining on the Sunflower. The [Sunflowers] paintings of is nothing less than a self-portrait of Vincent van Gogh.”
“Maybe it is for this reason, after Van Gogh’s death, there was a trend to paint sunflowers. Like Kirchner.”
A trend.
“Art history sometimes classifies Van Gogh as Post-Impressionist painter, but I do not like that classification. Vincent van Gogh is already a symbol and a genre.”
Me. A person who was a nuisance to everyone around.
Was it a reasonable to give such a praise to a loser who had to give up on painting and even life?
I was shaking my head thinking that I should calm down, but Kevin continued his words.
“He might have thought himself as a loser, but he was a real Victor, a Victor who overcame all the obstacles. He lived up to his name Vincent, which comes from the Latin word meaning Victor.”
All the hardships I had went through melted like an ice with those words.
The melted ice started coming out of my eyes as tears.
Eventually I had an emotional meltdown.
