Today as I was sitting in my kitchen, digesting the words of an esoteric novel that I was reading, my eye was suddenly drawn to a replica of van Gogh's Starry Night that adorned a decorative cutting board that I received as a gift from one of the kids. Although not as captivating as the original painting that I have seen at the Museum of Modern Art in NY, I couldn't stop staring at it. As I gazed down at the little town, which was the vantage point from the sanitorium where he spent his final months, I felt the usual well of emotion that comes when I see a van Gogh painting... and I cried. For while he was living in pain and torment, this beautiful scene was destined to be painted, and shared with a world of people who considered him insane. There is the dark color of the tree pointing upwards towards the sky, set in front of the small whiteness of the church steeple, while the town and the hills are immersed in blues and violets. But what captivated me the most in that particular moment was the swirling ethers of the sky, set amongst the glowing stars. It looked as if two lovers were being entwined, or two closed hands were moving together to be interlocked by the fingers, and I almost felt as if it was a star in the making. The coming together of those two moving forces had me transfixed and emotional, and yet I could not reason why... there were no words, and so I just felt, and my mind went still. After several minutes, I took a deep breath and sighed. I looked out the window to my own backyard, as the sun illuminated patches of unmelted snow, and droplets of roof melt dripped daintily before me, and I appreciated, that with all of life's distractions, disappointments, and unfulfilled dreams... it is still a beautiful world.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Awestruck by van Gogh
Today as I was sitting in my kitchen, digesting the words of an esoteric novel that I was reading, my eye was suddenly drawn to a replica of van Gogh's Starry Night that adorned a decorative cutting board that I received as a gift from one of the kids. Although not as captivating as the original painting that I have seen at the Museum of Modern Art in NY, I couldn't stop staring at it. As I gazed down at the little town, which was the vantage point from the sanitorium where he spent his final months, I felt the usual well of emotion that comes when I see a van Gogh painting... and I cried. For while he was living in pain and torment, this beautiful scene was destined to be painted, and shared with a world of people who considered him insane. There is the dark color of the tree pointing upwards towards the sky, set in front of the small whiteness of the church steeple, while the town and the hills are immersed in blues and violets. But what captivated me the most in that particular moment was the swirling ethers of the sky, set amongst the glowing stars. It looked as if two lovers were being entwined, or two closed hands were moving together to be interlocked by the fingers, and I almost felt as if it was a star in the making. The coming together of those two moving forces had me transfixed and emotional, and yet I could not reason why... there were no words, and so I just felt, and my mind went still. After several minutes, I took a deep breath and sighed. I looked out the window to my own backyard, as the sun illuminated patches of unmelted snow, and droplets of roof melt dripped daintily before me, and I appreciated, that with all of life's distractions, disappointments, and unfulfilled dreams... it is still a beautiful world.
