Van Gogh in Provence and Auvers includes more than 300 works by Van Gogh in his most prolific years leading up to his tragic suicide. Special printed papers and specially die-cut openers enhance the value of this excellent presentation. Van Gogh’s own words, placed together with preparatory sketches for his works and vintage postcards and photographs, enhance an insightful text.
This book is lavishly endowed with pictures (paintings, sketches, photos of family, friends and locales) and gives a lot of detail into his life in general. I like how in between some pages there's a solid colored page with a cutout so that it emphasizes a phrase or part of a picture from either side. His art always mesmerizes me, even just a simple sketch. As a person though, he leaves me not feeling all that sympathetic towards his 'tortured artist' demeanor. Always making then fighting with mentors/friends if they don't agree with him, never to speak to them again, relying on family to support him and assuming his perceived (well, more prescient) idea that they should just sell his artwork and keep giving him money to do what he pleases is what grabbed me the most. Granted, he was very eccentric and certainly 'touched in the head', but having to keep him placated and constantly maintaining his monetary needs during his whims caused a lot of strain on the family and cost him many friends, mentors and the chance for the happiness that he felt he would have with a wife and children of his own. For him to marry then become so despondent over his brother citing he could no longer support Vincent and his wife, well, I'd like to ask him 'what did you expect?' and expound upon the idea that as someone who pursued religion like he did, why he never really lived by more of the biblical teachings other than not indulging on worldly possessions. Pretty sure I'd have been one of those friends who he'd be rid of right quick! Not to trivialize his mental state, but really, he was rather spoiled even though it seems that he worked hard to not be seen as such. He was able to travel extensively, and follow his passions. A bit of gratitude surely would have gone a long way, I feel. There is no doubt, though, that his fascination with what many consider mundane allowed him to bring out the beauty of life in both scenery and portraiture. His need for color to saturate yet balance simply stuns me. He was correct in stating he didn't need to sign his work as one could just look at it and know it was his.
Having read the full length biography of Van Gogh by Steven Naifeh and Gregory White Smith, about which I have already posted, I recently began reading Van Gogh in Provence and Auvers by Bogomila Welsh-Ovcharov. Published by Hugh Lauter Levin, this is a lavish, large format volume I purchased several years ago at the Metropolitan Museum. So much care was put into the production of this book that it was clearly intended as a work of art in its own right. In fact, the dedication was to the memory of Philip Grushkin, the famous book designer whose last project this represented.
The text of the book is intelligent and insightful, though necessarily less detailed than Naifeh and Smith's exhaustive study. In general, I found no discrepancies between the two accounts of the artist's life. In most cases, Ms. Welsh-Ovcharov can be said to have taken a less judgmental view of the tumultuous incidents that made up Van Gogh's career. The dysfunctional painter's inability to lead a normal life, his failure at almost every career he attempted and the flaws in his incorrigible personality that brought an abrupt end to every professional, social and familial relationship (other than with his brother Theo) are largely glossed over. There are no sensational claims and very little that can be considered controversial.
The book's greatest value lies in its excellent reproductions of almost all Van Gogh's major paintings and drawings. It was during the three years the artist spent in Provence and later Auvers that he created the body of work that we now associate with him. Though it seems inconceivable that anyone could accomplish so much in so short a time, it was during this brief period that Van Gogh, working literally around the clock, finally found his style and devoted all his resources to perfecting it. Prior to that, he had labored for several years in the Netherlands, Belgium and finally Paris but had succeeded in producing only one work that could truly be called a masterpiece. That was the bleak but powerful group portrait entitled The Potato Eaters (1885) that is reproduced in this volume's introduction.
This book should perhaps be best thought of as an illustrated companion volume to Naifeh and Smith's biography. Taken together, the two books provide as full a study of Van Gogh and his oeuvre as we are ever likely to encounter.
incredible. gorgeous reproductions. the full-spread, color-saturated paintings at the end of this book build darkly toward the end of his life, and chronicle the final days. incredible, beautiful, frightening. but it begs a return to the question of why so many artists kill themselves; a question i'm scared to investigate.