Art and Photography

While I believe that photography can and certainly is an art. It has also been become so easy to take pictures that the creativity and thought that I feel goes into the art, is often lost. Maybe there is an art to the selfie and the posed picture of people in front of every location that you visit, but part of what gets lost in that for me is the actual visit; the time spent seeing, feeling and understanding the place.

When you paint or draw a location, you have to stop, sit or stand, and really look at the place. You look at the lines, the color, the form. You look for cracks, shadows, and angles. You also become a part of that moment. You are a part of the scene. You are putting more of yourself into the place and opening the door to others looking over your shoulder to see if you are any good or maybe just to see what has intrigued you enough to stop in that location.

I had planned to draw and paint more on this trip, but it was very hard to stop, find a place to settle in for a while, and then expose myself to the world.

In truth writing this blog and even sharing my photos on Flickr are exposure that leave me open to criticism, apathy and maybe even compliments. Maybe that is part of what art is; being willing to put yourself out there to be viewed by others no matter what they think, say, or don't say about your work. I think that art is so personal; something that you feel that you absolutely need to do to satisfy your soul.

Van Gogh needed to paint so much, that in the ten years that he was a painter, he made 900 paintings. During his life, only one of them sold.

The impressionist artists wanted to do something different from the traditional painting of the time and their work, for the most part, was not accepted into the art salons until they created their own exhibit. They lived in poverty and used most of the money that they had to buy more canvases and paints, just so they could make one more painting.

Musee D'Orangerie

Monet's Studio

The modern artists did it again, wanting to create something new and different. They wanted to show their perspective of the world.

Art within Art within Art

Fleeting Moment of Art outside the Pompidou

I sat on the street one day and drew. As I started the sketch, a little girl came up to stand next to me and watch. Her parents said she just liked watching people draw. She would look at the drawing then to the location that I was working on capturing and back again. She never said a word. She didn't want to leave, but her parents pulled her away and thanked me for allowing her to watch. Later, a group of men coming toward me, posed so I could capture them in the drawing. I made quick swirling motions with my with my hand as if I was trying to capture them in the drawing. They stopped to looked and were complimentary. They said it needed color, but it was good. They are correct that it needs color. I stopped to draw this scene for two reasons; the color of the flowers and buildings and a desire to practice drawing perspective.

Sketch of a Street in Old Arles Looking toward the Amphitheatre

I survived putting myself out there. Those wandering past were not critical but complimentary. Selling your work is not a prerequisite, though it is likely a form of validation that you are an artist. Doing the work, putting yourself on the the canvas, through the lens, on the paper, or in the blog are what make you an artist.

Auvers sur Oise -- Vincent

My last day in Paris, I traveled to Auvers sur Oise. This is the last place that Vincent lived before he died. Most people believe, from the stories they have heard, read and been taught, that he committed suicide. It is now believed that he was murdered. A book on my list to read fully is Van Gogh, the Life by Steven Naifeh and Gregory White Smith.

I started it, was pulled in by the beautiful writing, but didn't have time to read it all before leaving in this journey. At the very end in the appendix, there is a section about his death and what research has uncovered.

The short version is that there was a teenager from a local wealthy family who teased Vincent mercilessly. Vincent didn't try to stop him,  he was already too tortured mentally, and only found solace in drink and paint. On the day that he was shot, it is thought that Vincent went out to paint, was actually inspired and feeling pretty good, the young man met up with him and teased him with a old gun that he had been given. They suspect it went off by accident and Vincent was shot.

The first part I wrote riding the train to Auvers sur Oise. It was cool and cloudy.

After the challenge of the second train never arriving,  I caught an Uber the rest of the way.  The driver dropped me off in front of the signs showing the places to visit; just a few steps from Vincent's room.

In front of the building sits a small table with two chairs two glasses and a bottle of red wine.

The town was mostly quiet except there were at least three school groups of children taking tours. As I sat across the street from the house, the last group passed by. They were happily singing a tune skipping along.

The tour of Vincent's room was interesting. They tell the story that he committed suicide. The room has been empty for 126 years. No photographs were allowed. But they told the story of a man who committed suicide. I wonder if that is a better sell for the visit than the possibility that someone shot him by accident?

The highlight was the last three stops on the walk. The church he painted, the wheat field and the cemetery where he and his brother are buried.

From the Musee D'Orsay

The Church in Auvers s/Oise

 

Vincent and his brother are buried side by side. Theo died 6 months after Vincent 

These three spots made me feel like I was truly walking in his footsteps. It was a beautiful day. Beautiful clouds, the sun shining, and no major tours of people making selfie photos in front of each location. I guess not completely walking in his foot steps as I visited his grave, but peaceful and hi paintings came to life for me.