an honest struggle

"The Potato Eaters"

1885

oil on canvas 

32"x44"

What makes Vincent Van Gogh so interesting to me is his constant struggle. In my opinion, that is what makes him and his work relatable. 

In a letter, he told his sister that his own painting of peasants eating potatoes was his best work. When "The Potato Eaters" was criticized by his artist friend Anthon van Rappard soon after it was painted, it hurt his confidence as an emerging artist. Van Gogh wrote back to his friend, "you...had no right to condemn my work in the way you did" (July 1885), and later, "I am always doing what I can't do yet in order to learn how to do it." (August 1885)

He told his brother that he wanted expand into portraits after predominantly painting "little green landscapes and flowers". Van Gogh painted from life and couldn't afford models to pose, so he bought a mirror to explore portraiture. Between the years of 1886 and 1889, Van Gogh painted over 30 self-portraits. He used portrait painting as a method of introspection and a method of developing his skills as an artist. 

To his artist friends, Van Gogh would send artworks with accompanying letters, in which humbly revealed his thoughts and processes. In these letters (including some to Paul Gauguin and Émile Bernard), he would share truths and philosophies that he discovered along the way. Below is an excerpt of a letter to his bother and then one from a letter he wrote to friend and painter, Gauguin.

“The third picture this week is a portrait of myself, almost colourless, in ashen tones against a background of pale veronese green. I purposely bought a mirror good enough to enable me to work from my image in default of a model, because if I can manage to paint the colouring of my own head, which is not to be done without some difficulty, I shall likewise be able to paint the heads of other good souls, men and women."

"I strongly urge you to study portrait painting, do as many portraits as you can and don't flag. We must win the public over later on by means of the portrait; in my opinion it is the thing of the future."

I just love Vincent Van Gogh. Most of all, I admire his posture of humbleness which seems to have a great deal to do with his philosophical perspective. I've found that the underlined shared experience that all artists have is struggle. For me, that discovery is mind blowing. All of the sudden, my own painting endeavors seem less like a solitary exploration of this big world. That bit of knowledge gives me the permission to feel as if I have part in this global collaboration that we call art. Below are some of the Van Gogh quotes that further propelled me into this daydream land:

"In spite of everything I shall rise again: I will take up my pencil, which I have forsaken in my great discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing." -Vincent Van Gogh

"Even the knowledge of my own fallibility cannot keep me from making mistakes. Only when I fall do I get up again." -Vincent Van Gogh

"When I have a terrible need of - shall I say the word - religion. Then I go out and paint the stars." -Vincent Van Gogh

"But I always think that the best way to know God is to love many things." -Vincent Van Gogh

"I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people." -Vincent Van Gogh

Enjoy this one minute video of a mash up of Van Gogh's self-portraits.

beauty is a value

Above is Roger Scruton's film, Why Beauty Matters. Below is a link and excerpt from Combustus's two part discussion on topics revealed by the film.

Why Beauty Matters: Philosopher Roger Scruton & Theologian, Painter, Michael Pearce On Why We Need to Reclaim Art for the Soul

Art matters. Let’s start from there. Regardless of your personal tastes or aesthetics as you stand before a painting, slip inside a photograph, run your hand along the length of a sculpture, or move your body to the arrangements spiraling out of the concert speakers…something very primary ~ and primal ~ is happening. And much of it sub-conscious. There’s an element of trust.
Political philosopher, Hannah Arendt (1906 – 1975), defined artworks as “thought things,” ideas given material form to inspire reflection and rumination. Dialog.
Sometimes even discomfort. So we know that art matters. But the question posed by modern philosophers such as Roger Scruton, of Oxford University, is: how do we want it to affect us?
Are we happy with the direction art is taking? Namely, says, Scruton, away from seeking “higher virtues” such as beauty and craftmanship, and instead, towards novelty for novelty’s sake, provoking emotional response under the guise of socio-political discourse.
In his compelling video, “Why Beauty Matters,” the philosopher asks us to wake up and start demanding something more from art other than disposable entertainment. “Through the pursuit of beauty,” suggests Scruton, “we shape the world as our own and come to understand our nature as spiritual beings. But art has turned its back on beauty and now we are surrounded by ugliness.”
The great artists of the past, says Scruton, “were aware that human life was full of care and suffering, but their remedy was beauty. The beautiful work of art brings consolation in sorrow and affirmation…It shows human life to be worthwhile.”
But many modern artists, argues the philosopher, have become weary of this “sacred task” and replaced it with the “randomness” of art produced merely to gain notoriety.
As example, Scruton points to Marcel Duchamp’s famous repurposing of a urinal into a sculpture he titled,“Fountain“ and signed with a pseudonym. Duchamp’s argument being that the value of any object lies solely in what each individual assigns it, and thus, anything can be declared “art,” and anyone an artist.
But is there something wrong with the idea that everything is art and everyone an artist? If we celebrate the democratic ideals of all citizens being equal and therefore their input having equal value, doesn’t Duchamp’s assertion make sense?
Who’s to say, after all, what constitutes beauty?
What follows are my interviews with two heavy-hitters in this discourse: Roger Scruton, who holds a PhD in philosophy from Cambridge University (his thesis being on aesthetics), and Michael Pearce, a theologian who teaches figure painting and drawing at California Lutheran University, in Thousand Oaks, California, and who himself is also an accomplished painter. Click here for part II.

Redemption Wednesday

I took that picture of the double rainbow as we flew through it just before landing in Fayetteville, AR. From above it looks beautiful, but for us, for our marriage, that place represents the darkest and most painful time of our life. As we were flying, I had my feet tucked under his knees, he was creating an entire island that spelled, "I LOVE MANDA" on Minecraft. Visit that photo on my Instagram here if you want to witness that nerd love. But see, that's us now. We crack each other up, we call each other out on dumb crap and we encourage one another. We are so thankful for each other now, I wont go into our past because it's a long and sad story (and not that important really). Just trust me when I say, God swooped into our souls and gave us brand spankin' new hearts. We would have gladly finalized our divorce if we were the same people that we were three years ago, but we are surely not (no thanks to us). To me those rainbows illustrated John 16:33 "I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

falsetto brush strokes

I shot that picture last Saturday. Dad was in the back corner of his studio packing extra paint for the Marceline event. (click here for more info on Nyle Gordon)

For his 51st birthday, I planned a trip to see him for a whole week. Between traveling to art shows, hanging his collection at various venues and teaching oil painting classes in two different cities, we found a week that would work. My dad is the hardest working man I know. So, it didn't surprise me when I flew in last Tuesday, to find that we had a full schedule ahead of us as well as a judged Plein Air Paint Out in Marceline, MO to end the week. Regardless of our many obligations, dad promised to make time for a practice run before the event. I was thankful for this promise for a few reasons: A. I have only done one (totally awful) plein air before this and B. Twenty-five other professional artists were going to be there and C. I can always learn from him. Long story short, I didn't have time to practice until the day before the competition. I set up in the front yard and you would think that I've never painted before. My easel kept collapsing on me, my painting fell in the dirt, I lost the my turpentine cap in a deep hole in the ground, (which was later dug out by dad with my pallet knife). Little winged creatures kept swooping in and sticking to my wet paint. I was a ridiculous mess. I was so used to the comforts and slow pace of my studio work. Let me just say, photo realism, unlike plein air, is indoors protected from violent winds and harsh sun rays. The best part of studio painting is that your subject is already cropped leaving you with a tidy preconceived composition to paint without shadows shifting on you. So, by the time I quit the practice painting I was panicked, and sun burnt but mostly panicked. That night, (the night before the event), dad sensed my frustrations and preformed quick demo while explaining tips as well as different natural light theories that he has found to be tried and true. Watching him made all this nature stuff make sense for the first time! Dad would burst into falsetto notes when he dabbed highlights onto little trees and bushes. My stress dissipated as we giggled watching him paint joyfully into the night. By 1am I forgot about my short comings with this whole plein air thing and instead I was reminded to thank the Lord for such a wonderful dad and incredible teacher. Thanks to dad, I wont quit Plein Air, not yet anyway. There are too many good things associated with this foreign concept to let it scare me away.  Eleanor Roosevelt said “You must do the thing you think you cannot do.” This idea is also encouraged by The Little Engine That Could... so it's legit. 

My Fourth Plein Air

Oil on Canvas board
8x10