� Tant Mieux � 2002-03-31 � 10:15 a.m. �
Yesterday was Vincent van Gogh's Birthday..... he would have been 149 I believe...
And what does that mean to me? Just the birth of a man I truly admire for his genius... and for his strength... tested until the end.
I wrote a huge paper about him... first year college... and I aced it... so if nothing else I owe him my 96 in that class...
Most only know him for the ear thing... but there's so much more to him... he loved with the fury tenfold of his hatred... he was happy just as well as depressed...
He was torn most of life between money and his faith... he struggled for everything... food, love, life, paint and fame... and it wasn't until long after he killed himself did anyone recognize his name.
I owe him an appreciation for art I couldn't have found else where... for childhood dreams in bold colours...
For all the stories my Dad knew of him and told...
I owe him my ability to see the world in a view less tainted.
There is nothing quite as amazing as seeing art crafted by hands born a hundred and fifty years before....
I know I wasn't suppose to... but I touched one when they guys with the guns had their backs turned... and you know... there is no feeling like touching paint and canvas moulded by van Gogh's fingers.
Presence in his original art is like sitting with him at dinner... meloncholy converstaion and all.
~Loneliness or idleness is fatal...~
~There is no anguish greater than the soul's struggle between duty and love.~
~That is how I regard myself, as having to accomplish in a few years something full of heart and love, and to do it with a will.~
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