From the time I was twelve years old and stood in front of one of Vincent Van Gogh’s paintings, I have been in love with this man and his art. As a preteen, I had the unbelievable privilege of being able to see his art at the center of the art universe….Paris, France.
Last month, after fifty years I returned to Paris.
Traveling with my husband, Rick, and our dear friends Kelly and Brian Carlisle, we rented an apartment in Montemarte historic district for twelve glorious days. Our apartment was situated at the base of a massive stone staircase that led up to 'the hill of Paris' and the Basilica of Sacre-Coeur. After arriving, we made our way to the many outdoor cafes and shops that line the cobble stoned streets. All the while knowing that this place inspired many of the great painters of the twentieth century, Salvador Dali, Monet, Picasso and of course, my favorite, Vincent Van Gogh, I kept pinching myself.
It was our jaunt to Auvers Sur Oise that stole my heart. We traveled by train that day to the little village where Vincent lived and died. None of us had any idea what we would encounter here. The small village offered a stark contrast between the crowded streets of Paris. With a map from the local tourism office, we made our way up the hill to the cemetery. We were surprised to find that many of the homes and buildings that Vincent painted were still there 125 years later. Our first stop was in front of the Church of Auvers. Knowing that Vincent walked these grounds was awe inspiring to me. I couldn't believe I was really here. A dream of a lifetime coming true.
We had stopped at the french market that morning and purchased flowers for Vincent's and Theo's graves. Venturing to Auvers to see Van Gogh's grave was the most incredible experience of my later life. Walking up the hill past the church and around the bend to the top of the hilltop cemetery was more than I could take in. An old wooden fence between the little wooded area marked the way to the old cemetery. A field on either side of the road also marked the walk. We Entered the old stone walls and metal gate with great anticipation. Not knowing which way to go, we saw two women had entered before us. Figuring they must be going to the same place, we looked for them.
And there it was ~ against the stone wall covered in lush green ivy were the head stones of Vincent and his brother Theo. As I lay the bouquet of flowers on his grave, I paused to just take it all in when I heard the laughter and voices of children. I turned to see an entire class of elementary children about the same age as those I teach at Glenbrook. With notebooks in hand, they stopped in front of the graves and quietly listened to instructions given by their teachers. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I couldn't help but think about the many students I have taught over the years. And here I was standing in front of the burial site of the very person who inspired me as a youngster. It was an incredible feeling.
This journey back to France was life affirming. I am an artist and an art teacher because I was inspired by the bright colors and the sweeping brush strokes created by the man with a bandaged ear. My memory of standing in front of his paintings as a young girl and thinking to myself, “I don't know what this art stuff is but I think it's for me' came back in living color.
Vincent Van Gogh lived a short life and painted his vast collection of incredible works in ten years. He died never knowing that he would leave behind a trail of passion and pleasure for anyone to follow.
Thank you Vincent.
