How the crapping fuck could this happen? How can you take a piece of art like this and paint over it in the crappity shitbox 1950s? Oh, I am sad.
I have seen two van Gogh shows, one in LA and one in Chicago. I thought he was pretty overrated before that, since he appeared on everything from playing cards to toilet paper. But I actually stood in front of a series of his works, all hanging together and got to look at the beautiful gorgeous gloppy texture, and all the other gabillion people were there, they had slammed down the money and had gotten into the big sweaty queue, clopping through like cows following closely on one another’s heels, and I knew there was something to it. That is my church, and my pilgrimage.
So to take a work like this eighty crapping years later and paint over it…that’s just not right. Forget about the value, it’s all about the sacriligeousness of it. I say, less painting over, and more nude Australian women.
In Other News
Also, contrary to popular belief, Vincent did NOT cut off his ear. It was only his earlobe. And he did not commit suicide.
Scholars have known for a long time that near the end of his life Vince used to carry his easel, canvas, and paint kit out to a field to paint near the mental institution he was resting up at (on his doctor’s advice). The crows drove him NUTS (ho ho) so he used to carry a shotgun with him, to blast off occasionally to scare them away. He used to carry his things in a big bundle, and as the story goes, one day the shotgun went off, right into his gut.
Vince walked the four miles back to where he was staying, and called for his doctor, who summoned Vince’s brother Theo from Paris. Vincent hung on until Theo got there and spoke with him.
What kind of person commits suicide by blasting themselves in the gut, and then walks four miles to seek treatment? And then stays alive to see their brother?
Art history is full of accepted myths like this, crafty by punks who think that you have to turn a field into some sort of sexy car wreck to get people interested. Some of us are just in it for the pictures.
If someone were to paint over one of my crappity fuckknuckle paintings, it would probably be worth more.
Crappity nads! I use way to many commas when drunkm, and to ill effect and run-on detriment.
I think you meant “his or her brother” not “their brother”… improper grammar will kill you.
And to think I poured acid over your already existing wound!
what a great post.
i’ll get nekkid for you anytime.
I’m a fan of van Gogh, not because of his playing-card paintings (I even saw an umbrella with Sunflowers silkscreened on, the sacrilege), but because when I first saw one of his paintings in the art museum in St. Louis, I realized that the paint really does stand an inch off the canvas, and seeing all of them together like that shows a profound mental disturbance that is terrifying but fascinating at the same time. It’s great work for that reason alone, if you ask me.
Australian women are actually perpetually naked. We only put clothes on for photos and tourists.
I sort of had that ‘oh wow’ experience with Van Gogh also. The husband and I were taking painting classes at the time. We got hubris–we were like “I want to paint like THAT.” Hah! He’s unbelievable, really.
I went to the VG museum in Amsterdam over New Year’s…and the little recording thingy told us he DID commit suicide! I didn’t know the thing you told. Yes, it does seem sort of annoying…kind of like–we’ll make the story that you were stone crazy and then your paintings will be worth more after you are dead.
Thanks for setting the record straight!
There ain’t nothing wrong with singular ‘they’! :-) It’s been in use as part of the English language since at least the 12th century (I can’t remember how to spell ’12th’ as a word). It was only in the eighteenth century that grammarians started saying, on the basis of Latin grammar, that singular ‘they’ was ungrammatical. Rick, thou art misguided :-)
Erm, I don’t actually have a comment on this particular blog entry, though. Except that, yeah, it does seem rather duff for that painting to have been painted over.