Van Gogh: Painted With Words Page #8

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Look after yourself

and handshakes in thought.

Yours truly

Vincent.

Four days after writing his final letter to Theo,

he went into the wheatfields

and shot himself in the chest.

He managed to crawl back here and climb these stairs to his attic room.

Two days later, he died here, in this room, at the age of 37,

with Theo at his side.

Dr Gachet and the other doctor were

excellent and looked after him very well, but

realised from the very first moment there was nothing anyone could do.

Vincent said, "This is the way I would like to go."

And half an hour later, he had his way.

Life weighed so heavily upon him

but as always happens, everyone is now full of praise for his talent.

Vincent wanted everyone to understand his art,

he wanted it, he said, "To say something consoling, like music."

Perhaps the only person who really understood him in his lifetime

was his brother, Theo,

who died just six months later of syphilis, at the age of 33.

They're now buried here,

side by side, in Auvers.

The ivy which seems to overwhelm their graves

also serves to bind them together.

It was once a cutting from Dr Gachet's garden.

Van Gogh only sold a few artworks in his life.

Today, they're worth millions -

ironic, maybe,

but Vincent seemed to know all along

what would happen.

We're now living here in a world of painting,

where everything is occupied by people,

who all intercept money.

And you mustn't think that I'm imagining things.

People pay a lot for the work when the painter himself is dead.

Caption:
Channelography

Timing, editing:
Graine

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