During Vincent’s life, Van Gogh was not a last name. “Van” meant “from,” and “Gogh” was his place of origin. Vincent Van Gogh. When asked which work of art is my very favorite, my answer is Vincent’s “Starry Night.” I have always been drawn to this painting. The movement. The dark, and yet the color. The clear, raw emotion. I know that many people who are unfamiliar with the art world can recognize and refer to this painting because of its fame. It is especially famous because Vincent is no longer with us to explain the real truth of this artwork. Deep down, in the core of my being, I share a connection with Vincent Van Gogh. This bond is on a level many people cannot comprehend. We share a mood disorder. We paint. We feel. We express our emotions through our work.
For many years, I have believed that “Starry Night” is the change from one mood to another, happening before my eyes. The wind is visible. The night is dark. I believe this painting is an expression of moving out of the darkness (if only for a time), to a different state of consciousness. It is a release brought about by creating art. Painting can create inner peace and be a vessel for therapy you cannot find elsewhere.
Recently, I attended a “Van Gogh Emersion Experience.” I learned the deeper reason for my attachment to Vincent and this painting. He painted this scene from the view outside his psychiatric hospital room. I began to cry. I have walked in those shoes. I have slept in that tiny room. I had no view outside my window. For years I have dealt with mental illness and loved this painting with all my heart, unaware of this truth.
There was a scene created within the tour where people could pose in the tiny bedroom. They smiled in their photos, as the tears ran down my face. I had wanted so terribly to escape that tiny bedroom prison, and here people were taking pictures in the tiny room willingly. I began to have a panic attack and my mom lead me quickly to an exit, where I hyperventilated outside. My dad, mom, husband and Klonopin helped me to calm down. Then I ate some tater tots and collected myself well enough to brave the gift shop. There is no room for reason or rationality. These triggers, which caused turmoil within my mind, could not be explained away. The feelings are real.
Sometimes the therapy provided by painting is not readily available. In this case, in order to cope, all I really need are support, Klonopin, and tater tots.
–SJB