I can't tell you exactly what it felt like as we traveled into the Northern suburbs of Paris. It seems as soon as I learned of Vincent Van Gogh as a child (of course it was the Pop hit of Don McLean's, "Vincent" from 1972 that introduced me to the artist), I was obsessed.
The story was epic, tragic, historic and immortalized for me in a mournful song that painted the picture with melodic words that took the place of the art that I accessed years later.
I didn't understand mental illness then, knew little of suffering and struggling or the creative process of even making art. Of compulsion to do the things that are inside you, be it art or the desire to cut off an ear. The curiosity and yearning to know more came from some primitive connection that I can't explain.
Through the years I gathered the bits and pieces of the life through visits to museums (MOMA in NYC,for Starry Night and National Gallery in London for Sunflowers of course being the highlights), books, television and then the almighty internet.
And now, at last I was going to the place where Vincent ended his life.. When I was a teen I wanted to move to the Netherlands. Amsterdam was my liberal and progressive ideal. It was not by coincidence that it was also home to the Van Gogh museum. On the bucket list still, I will someday make it there, but for this trip to France I insisted on being near the spirit of the man, and the last was fine for me.
I took these shots as we neared the village of Auvers-sur-Oise.
This road from Paris into the countryside of small village (approximate population of 7,000) Auvers takes you to the place where many painters went to live and paint. Vincent moved here to be near his brother who lived in Paris. Having tried to live in Paris before, when Vincent traveled back up to the area, he settled in this suburb of Paris to be treated by a specific doctor, Dr. Paul Gachet, who was recommended by Camille Pissarro.
The trip from Paris to Auvers is approximately a half hour journey by train. Vincent had heard of the place from other artists, the town was full of them by the late 1800's. Artist Charles Daubigny had been there since 1860. Daubigny never left and even now has his own museum in the town. Manet, Cézanne, Renoir, and Camille Pissaro—patriarch of Impressionism—all lived there for a time. It was Pissaro who recommended the doctor from Auvers to Vincent's brother Theo. Vincent went directly from the Hospital in St. Remy to Auver's for treatment by Dr. Gachet.
The River Oise- an interesting historical perspective here= in 1871, the authorities destroyed the bridges over the Oise to delay to the enroachment of the Prussian troops.
and Vincent's painting of the river
This painting is in the Detroit Institute of the Arts (DIA), so if one is so inclined (I have already been inclined + believe-you-me, it was well worth the visit) a little jaunt over to take this is before the awful economy of that city forces it to sell of gems/assets like this Van Gogh.
A bit about the "Eternal Village" that just warms my little preservationist heart:
There is a ton of You Tube video's on VVG. I liked this one because of the black and white historic photos
Another view of the church in the distance and some of the town.
We didn't have enough time to wander around or take roads less traveled. We took the left turn over the bridge and made our way to the center of the town.
No mention of Daubigny or the street or musee named after him. It is all Vincent from the tourist perspective.
Here are some shots of what the town looked like in Vincent's day:
ANd now:
http://www.veltra.com/en/europe/france/paris/a/101803
This alleyway which runs alongside Le Bistro is typical of the whole village. Many small, narrow streets and alleyways.
Village Street in Auvers
We stopped briefly in town at a little park that has a sculpture of Vincent and a tourist bureau which directed us to Auberge Ravoux.
This bronze statue of Vincent Van Gogh by the sculptor Ossip Zadkine (1890-1867) has been in this small green space since 1961. Behind the sculpture and cherubic figure is the Tourism/Musee Daubigny. Poor, poor Daubigny- one of the first artists to discover this peacable town and who is almost completely overshadowed by Vincent now.
Here is a nice and short piece from an old Smithsonian:
And then we were there!
Auberge Ravoux, home to Vincent Van Gogh May-July 1890
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So this building is not the rooming house, that building is to the left of this building.  What the Inn used to look like. |
Here is Vincent's home/boarding house room (#5), the upper window on the right.
Below is what the window looked like before restoration.
It's hard to describe the compulsion to come and be here. To gawk, to ponder, and try to understand something that is not very understandable. So here we were to somberly enter this hallowed ground and try to trace and commit to memory the last 70 days of this incredible artists' life. So enter we did.
The alleyway between the Inn + the restaurant
The empty room we we not supposed to photograph. The one next door is a revisioned one with furnishings that reflect the VVG time period.
Here is another blog with a succinct bio on VVG:
It was an intense short stay in this quaint and quiet Paris suburb village. I so wished we had more time. I would have liked to wander to see the countryside, to visit the various places Vincent painted, check out Daubigny and the other Impressionist artists who hung here, to see the Castle and its museum, and of course there was some Art Nouveau in town too that we missed.
The 1903 house we didn't get to see by Hector Guimard, a leading French architect in Art Nouveau back at the turn of the 20th century. This house is located in the Chaponval section of town, about 5 minutes from the VVG site.
Of course the curious tourist or imagining dreamer in me wanted to find these homes for sale as well, because you just never know...
And this one in the central village with its elevated price is similar to what you would find inside Northampton, MA as well.
It has taken me over a month to sit with all that this European visit entailed, and mostly getting lost in Vincent once again. Where did he live in Montmartre? What were his relationships like? What was manic-depression of that era called and how was it treated? I got sucked in and hard a very hard time pulling myself back out.
My husband, knowing my fascination with the man, quietly purchased tickets for an upcoming event in Great Barrington, MA for the end of August 2015.
Here's what it had to say about this event:
New York City’s Ensemble for the Romantic Century, in partnership with the American Institute for Economic Research, presents Van Gogh’s Ear, an original theatrical concert based on Vincent van Gogh’s letters to his brother Theo. The Ensemble’s recent engagement at the Brooklyn Academy of Music was hailed as “ingenious...breathtaking...sheer poetry!” by The New York Times.
Complementing the Clark’s exhibition Van Gogh and Nature, Van Gogh’s Ear takes the audience on a journey through the artist’s final years in the south of France in a fully staged production with live performances of the music of Debussy, Fauré, Chausson, and Franck.
I was getting one more pass at my man! Actually 2 if you count our trip to the Clark with my foster mother we made in mid-August!! What an exhibit. Van Gogh’s oeuvre, borrowed from a variety of sources and on display for 3 months, the place was mobbed on a Thursday mid-morn and the library free passes have not been available all summer. The new addition to the Clark in my proliteriat opinion sucks, but the exhibit was phenomenal. Here are a few (illegal) shots of it:
My foster mother, Nancy Jones to the left pushing the wheelchair and my favorite picture of Auvers to the right. It was with extreme fondness that I bid VVG adieu.
