Recently I had the pleasure of seeing Lasting Impressions, which featured the works of some of humanity’s greatest artists, recreated with a brilliant 3D and “motion-sculpting technology” that not only adds depth to the artwork but also brings it to life. I’ll confess that while the first half left much to be desired, the remainder of the film lived up to its reputation. In particular, I was greatly moved by seeing Van Gogh’s artwork in such an immersive way while the song “Vincent” (performed by Adam Fisher and Brian Finley) played in the background. In fact, I was actually moved to tears, and if you haven’t given the track a listen, I’d suggest you do so since it nicely captures everything that I personally find fascinating about Vincent van Gogh.
If you don’t know, Vincent van Gogh was a dutch impressionist who lived in the latter half of the nineteenth century. He is famously remembered for painting A Starry Night as well as a myriad of other works that are noted for their colour, dramatic brushstrokes, and, I would say, overall boldness. You cannot help but be drawn to them. They are beautiful, which makes it all the more incredible when one considers his struggle with mental illness because as well as his artwork, he is also remembered as the artist who famously cut off his ear and sent it to his girlfriend. You could say he was a tortured soul, and yet he was able to capture the world so delightfully. Sadly, however, he never knew success in his lifetime, and throughout his career, he would only ever sell one painting. It was only after his death by suicide at 37 that he would be acknowledged as the great artist he was.
As a long-time Doctor Who fan, I’ve often mused at who, if given the chance, from history I would like to go back in time to meet. I’ve thought it would be fun to smoke cigars and drink scotch with Winston Churchill, have a chat with Socrates, or shake up the pub with David Hume. Of course, it would be awesome to meet Jesus as well, but as I reflect on Van Gogh’s life, I think that if I were granted one trip to the past and back, I would rather like to meet him. I wouldn’t ask for his artistic advice. I wouldn’t probe him for the details of his biography. Nor would I care to scrupulously analyse his work, as I often hyper-analyse the works of others. Instead, he is simply a man that I would like to give a hug. To go through life and feel unappreciated as he did, to feel like you’re not understood, to feel that life wasn’t worthwhile—as he must have felt when he died by his own hand—is the greatest tragedy imaginable.
I feel desperately sorry for him, and I can empathise with his pain. To many people, particularly in recent years, the world has felt rather cold and cruel. Oftentimes, goodness feels unappreciated. We have a bad habit, as a species, of rejecting the good things sometimes. How dark does it feel when a good though troubled man feels such rejection? That he was able to “look out on a summer’s day with eyes that know the darkness in my soul” speaks to both what beauty in his heart that went unfelt.
Earlier today, a friend of mine pointed out that, here in Canada, September is Suicide Awareness Month. With Vincent in mind, I’m reminded of how important it is for us all to remember those who might be suffering. And for those who are themselves suffering, all I can say is this: I get it. Like Vincent, perhaps you’ve “suffered for your sanity,” and no one will listen. Maybe you feel it’s all pointless, or unfair, or you’re just tired of being misunderstood or feeling unappreciated. And sometimes the world is cruel, and there are those of us—perhaps most of us—for whom it’s true that “this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you”. There’s no shame in that. I’ve had those thoughts, too. But that’s it: you’re not truly as alone as you feel. So, if you need help, please seek it. The world doesn’t need another loss like Vincent’s. It needs precisely that sensitivity that you would know, even if it doesn’t want to listen. Don’t withhold the beauty that the world needs.
Suicide Hotline (Canada): (833) 456-4566
Suicide Hotline (USA): 988
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