Dear brother and sister,
Jo’s [wife of Theo] letter was really like a gospel for me, a deliverance from anguish which I was caused by the rather difficult and laborious hours for us all that I shared with you.
It’s no small thing when all together we feel the daily bread in danger, no small thing when for other causes than that we also feel our existence to be fragile. Once back here, I too still felt very saddened, and had continued to feel the storm that threatens you also weighing upon me.
What can be done – you see I usually try to be quite good-humoured, but my life, too, is attacked at the very root, my step also is faltering. I feared – not completely – but a little nonetheless – that I was a danger to you, living at your expense – but Jo’s letter clearly proves to me that you really feel that for my part I am working and suffering like you.
There – once back here, I set to work again – the brush however almost falling from my hands and – knowing clearly what I wanted, I’ve painted another three large canvases since then. They’re immense stretches of wheatfields under turbulent skies, and I made a point of trying to express sadness, extreme loneliness.
You’ll see this soon, I hope – for I hope to bring them to you in Paris as soon as possible, since I’d almost believe that these canvases will tell you what I can’t say in words, what I consider healthy and fortifying about the countryside.
Now the third canvas is Daubigny’s garden, a painting I’d been thinking about ever since I’ve been here.
I hope with all my heart that the planned journey [Theo, Jo and their little baby, to Leiden, on July 15th] may provide you with a little distraction.
Jo’s [wife of Theo] letter was really like a gospel for me, a deliverance from anguish which I was caused by the rather difficult and laborious hours for us all that I shared with you.
It’s no small thing when all together we feel the daily bread in danger, no small thing when for other causes than that we also feel our existence to be fragile. Once back here, I too still felt very saddened, and had continued to feel the storm that threatens you also weighing upon me.
What can be done – you see I usually try to be quite good-humoured, but my life, too, is attacked at the very root, my step also is faltering. I feared – not completely – but a little nonetheless – that I was a danger to you, living at your expense – but Jo’s letter clearly proves to me that you really feel that for my part I am working and suffering like you.
There – once back here, I set to work again – the brush however almost falling from my hands and – knowing clearly what I wanted, I’ve painted another three large canvases since then. They’re immense stretches of wheatfields under turbulent skies, and I made a point of trying to express sadness, extreme loneliness.
You’ll see this soon, I hope – for I hope to bring them to you in Paris as soon as possible, since I’d almost believe that these canvases will tell you what I can’t say in words, what I consider healthy and fortifying about the countryside.
Now the third canvas is Daubigny’s garden, a painting I’d been thinking about ever since I’ve been here.
I hope with all my heart that the planned journey [Theo, Jo and their little baby, to Leiden, on July 15th] may provide you with a little distraction.
van Gogh-brief
(10 juli 1890)
Geen opmerkingen:
Een reactie posten