Midday, high summer. A haystack glows gold against a deep blue sky. In its shade, a man and a woman lie asleep in the straw. He has his hat over his eyes; their shoes are off, set neatly side by side. Two sickles rest beside them. Further off, the cart waits, and the oxen rest too.
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Vincent van Gogh, The Siesta (after Millet), 1889–1890. Musée d'Orsay, Paris
Painting from the asylum
In the winter of 1889 to 1890, Van Gogh was living at the asylum of Saint-Paul-de-Mausole, in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence. He had chosen to go there after a breakdown. Some days he could paint outside; others, he couldn't leave his room.
On those days, he worked from black-and-white prints of paintings he loved, especially by Jean-François Millet, the painter of peasant life. His brother Theo sent him the reproductions.
Translating, not copying
Van Gogh didn't think of these as copies. In his letters, he compared himself to a musician playing a piece by another composer: the notes are given, but the interpretation is his own. He was, as he put it, translating Millet's black and white into another language, the language of colour.
So the grey print became this: blue shadows, orange straw, yellow fields shimmering in the heat.
When creating feels too hard
There are days when we have nothing new to give. Van Gogh's answer wasn't to stop, or to force it. It was to lean on someone he admired, and let their work carry him for a while.
- Choose something beautiful made by someone else: a painting, a poem, a recipe, a piece of music.
- Copy it, gently, in your own way. Sketch the painting, write out the poem by hand, cook the recipe, hum the melody.
- Don't aim to be original. Aim to be present.
- Notice the small choices you make without meaning to: a colour, a word, a slower tempo. That's your voice, resting.
For more Van Gogh, read what he told his brother in hundreds of letters. And for slower starts to the day, try slow mornings without waking up earlier.
Something to lean on
"(letters) On Art" brings a letter and a postcard to your door every month, with the seasonal printed issue of "(meditating) On Art". Something beautiful to lean on, when you need it.
Remember to take as much time as you need, and meet me at the next one.
Love, Evi