The Devil in Silver

In 1883 Vincent, despondent, returned to his parents’ home. He lived with them for two more years. He argued with them a lot. (Folks give credit to Vincent’s brother Theo, but Anna and Theodorus were wonderful to him, considering what a dick he could be.) In 1884 Vincent’s mom suffered a fall and broke her leg, and Vincent, to everyone’s great happiness, turned out to be a loving and attentive caretaker for her while she healed up. Good feeling returned to his relationship with his parents. And that’s Vincent all over. Utterly selfish and magnificently selfless, all one or all the other, depending on the day.

While he was still with his parents, Vincent got one more chance at romance. This time with a neighbor’s daughter. Maybe they weren’t in love, but they seemed to enjoy each other’s company, which is a hell of a lot of happiness sometimes. But the neighbor’s family refused to accept the union. The daughter, in her despair, tried to commit suicide. (She lived.) Their relationship was over and Vincent seemed to lose hope entirely for that kind of pleasure in his life. (Pleasure meaning love, because he visited prostitutes plenty over the years.)

So, no love, but during this time, Vincent had been working constantly. He sketched and painted with fervor. The early stuff, like most early stuff, wasn’t great but the man hoped that he could produce worthwhile art eventually. (From letter 106: “O Theo, Theo old boy, if only it might happen to me and that deluge of downcastness about everything which I undertook and failed at, that torrent of reproaches I’ve heard and felt, if it might be taken away from me and if I might be given the opportunity and the strength and the love required to develop and to persevere and to stand firm in that for which my Father and I would offer the Lord such heartfelt thanks.”)

In 1885 Vincent’s father died, after a long walk, right at the threshold of his home. Vincent moved out of his mother’s home and went off painting people and scenes from the world around him. (During this time, he hoped to make a splash, do something great, be noticed, with a painting called The Potato Eaters. It’s a dark, sludgy work, aping the style generally respected in the day. It didn’t make him famous. It didn’t sell. And for good reason. It stinks.)

In 1886 Vincent moved to Paris and lived with his brother Theo. Theo had joined the family business and worked as an art dealer. This time was good for Vincent. His health improved, and he even had an operation to replace almost all his teeth. (Because Vincent had lived on a diet of mostly beer and black bread—literally, bread so old it was going black, which was cheaper to buy than fresh bread—the majority of Vincent’s teeth had fallen out. You know the reason he’s not smiling in those self-portraits? It’s not just because of his melancholy soul. It’s because that poor bastard was practically toothless!) It was a good time for Vincent, but less so for Theo. As Vincent’s parents learned, as nearly anyone who ever lived with Vincent learned, Vincent Van Gogh was an asshole. Often. Even his beloved Theo came to fight and dislike the brother he believed to be an artistic genius. (It’s also worth noting that, all these years, Theo had been sending money to Vincent, wherever he was living, so he could spend as much time as possible painting and not holding a job. Despite this, Vincent treated Theo much the same as everyone. He was messy, argumentative, and bossy. During all the years they wrote to each other, there was one request Vincent made more than any other: Send more money! And Theo did.)

In 1888 Vincent left Theo. He now hit the creative high point of his life. It would last only two years. During that time he produced thousands of paintings and sketches. Theo worked his butt off to try to sell the stuff. He failed. Vincent produced, Theo believed, the world was blind.

This period, from 1888 on, was the time when Vincent did the stuff he became famous for. The romantic round. This was when he roomed with Paul Gauguin. (That didn’t last.) Cut off a part of his ear in an absolute frenzy and presented it as a gift to a local prostitute. (She fainted.)

This was also the time when Vincent began his commitments to mental institutions. In 1889 Vincent’s neighbors became tired of him and his antics, and they signed a petition to have him put away. Involuntary commitment, nineteenth-century style.

Vincent got out but soon after he commited himself to an asylum in Saint-Rémy. He stayed there for a year. While the paintings from 1888 show the style that would make him legendary—rich with color, sensory and explosive—the ones he made in 1889 began to show another side. The colors became duller here and there. A deep and lasting sadness seemed almost visible on the canvas.