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.

"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.