Van Gogh

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by Steven Naifeh


  This book is built on a formidable foundation—a virtual library of books and articles created by an army of brilliant scholars and devoted aficionados who have given some part of their lives to Vincent van Gogh. The task of telling Van Gogh’s life in this detail would have been impossible without this superb and at times astonishing body of research. During the past years we have had the pleasure of meeting and in a few cases forging friendships with some of the scholars outside the Van Gogh Museum who have made singular contributions to this corpus of knowledge, including Douglas Druick, Ann Dumas, Cornelia Homburg, Colta Ives, Debora Silverman, Susan Stein, and Judy Sund. We are grateful to all of them for their friendship, encouragement, and support.

  Our previous experiences had not prepared us for the esprit de corps that exists throughout much of the Van Gogh community—a spirit of cooperation, we believe, that springs directly from Vincent and his embracing art, as well as from the museum that carries his missionary flame forward. (For a complete list of the scholars who have made important contributions to the Van Gogh literature, and thus to our book, see the Bibliography online at www.vangoghbiography.com.) We have also had the pleasure of meeting David Brooks, not only a conscientious contributor to Van Gogh research but also a tireless proselytizer on behalf of the artist’s life and work.

  We want to thank Robert and Elizabeth Kashey, David Wojciechowski, and Joseph Gibbon of the Shepherd Gallery in New York who taught us so much about the world of nineteenth-century art that Vincent both cherished and transcended. Dr. Gregory Greco, a surgeon and close friend, spoke with us at length about both the ear incident and Vincent’s fatal wound, making it possible to better reconstruct the medical aspects of these incidents from the spare written record. Joseph Hartzler and Brad Brian, two prominent attorneys and friends whom we have known for decades (and, respectively, a prosecutor and a defense attorney), reviewed drafts of the “Note on Vincent’s Wounding” and provided extremely wise counsel on a subject of historical sensitivity as well as evidentiary complexity.

  One of the greatest challenges of researching this book was that neither of us reads Dutch. In the end, we were able to bridge that gap through the extraordinary efforts of eleven translators: Keimpe Andringa, Casandra Berkich, Jan Christianen, Isabel Daems, Frank Gabel, Pragito von Bannisseht, Nolly Nijenhuis, Huub van Oirschot, Mel Oppermann, Jan Sawyer, and Inge De Taeye. Thanks to their skills and dedication, we were able to absorb the vast literature of Dutch primary and secondary sources that had not previously been translated into English. In particular, we want to thank our primary translators Pim Andringa and Inge De Taeye for the hours they spent poring over books, articles, and other sources with us to determine what materials should be translated. For translations from German, we have Adrian Godfrey to thank. Although we can read French passably well, we had occasion to call on the services of French translators Jean-Pascal Bozso, Peter Field, Catherine Merlen, Christian Quilliot, and Karen Stokes where the original was difficult (e.g., archaic) or a formal translation was required. (All our translations will be made available through the Van Gogh Museum Archives.)

  We also owe a huge debt of gratitude to the team of researchers and fact-checkers who made it possible to assemble what could well be the most extensive notes that have ever accompanied a biography. The team was led by the brilliantly capable Elizabeth Petit and her gifted colleague, Beth Fadeley. They were assisted by Kristin Barron, Brad Petit, Laura Storey, Ernest Wiggins, and Renée Zeide, all of whom worked with us through the two-year-long process of preparing the notes for online publication. Also of assistance were De’Andrea Youmans and Daniel Lutz. Despite our location far from a major research library, we were able to borrow books and articles from around the world thanks to the miracle of the inter-library loan program and the good offices of Bridget Smith, librarian at the University of South Carolina—Aiken.

  At the inception of this project, surveying the scale of the enterprise we were undertaking, we commissioned special research-management software that mimicked the research methods we had used for all our previous books. This special application—which allowed us to digitize the library of source materials, create digital “index cards,” and then organize those cards into an interactive outline—was built for us by Stephen Geddes and Jeremy Hughes, with help from Phillip Greer and Keith Beckman. The task of combining references, textual notes, illustrations, and photographs into a single, seamless website at the other end of the process was managed by Jeremy Hughes, Elizabeth Petit, and Beth Fadeley, with the assistance of Dr. Jennifer Guiliano of the Center for Digital Humanities at the University of South Carolina together with Jun Zhou, Aidan Zanders, and Shawn Maybay. This extraordinary technology allowed us to assimilate and access more than ten times the information available for our biography of Jackson Pollock, and compressed what might easily have been a thirty-year project into a mere decade.

  That time-saving turned out to be more important than we ever imagined. The writing of this book was repeatedly interrupted by medical exigencies. There were times when it looked as if Greg might not make it to the finish line of our ten-year odyssey. An intractable brain tumor took him out from behind his computer for great stretches of uncertainty. Our research on Van Gogh began while we were at UCLA for a two-month session of radiation. As Vincent’s meteoric career arced over us, we passed through major brain surgery, kidney surgery, and a program of receptor-mediated radiation therapy. Vincent died just as we were undergoing a series of cutting-edge chemotherapeutic regimens. Without the contributions of all these doctors, and others, this book would not have been written. We want to express our unnameable gratitude especially to Drs. James Vredenburgh and Michael Morse of the Preston Robert Tisch Brain Tumor Center at Duke University Medical Center, and to Drs. Francis DiBona and Davor Sklizovic in our hometown of Aiken.

  Our thanks also go to our remarkable agent at William Morris Endeavor, Mel Berger, who provided us with strong, patient support through this long effort.

  Finally, in almost three decades of writing books, we have literally never had as much support from all levels of a publishing house as we have had at Random House. Our editor, Susanna Porter, has tolerated our delays, shaped our manuscript, and shepherded our book through the complicated publishing process with an enthusiasm, grace, and wonderful intelligence that will leave us always in her debt. The managing editorial team of Vincent La Scala, Benjamin Dreyer, and Rebecca Berlant, working with copy editor Emily DeHuff, brought a remarkable clarity and consistency to a vast and rangy manuscript. Art director Robbin Schiff and designers Anna Bauer (jacket) and Barbara Bach-man (interior) created the elegant book that Van Gogh has always deserved and we had always hoped for. Then the production team of Sandra Sjursen and Lisa Feuer turned their vision into reality, and Ken Wohlrob gave it digital life. Meanwhile, marketing director Avideh Bashirrad and director of publicity Sally Marvin worked miracles to bring the product of all our labors to the attention of the public. From our editor’s diligent assistant Priyanka Krishnan to our publishers Tom Perry, Susan Kamil, and Gina Centrello—all these people and more have participated significantly in the vast collaboration that is the book you hold in your hand.

  Photo Insert

  View of the Sea at Scheveningen, AUGUST 1882, OIL ON CANVAS, 13 ⅝ × 20 IN. (photo credit i1.1)

  Two Women in the Moor, OCTOBER 1883, OIL ON CANVAS, 10 ⅝ × 13 ⅞ IN. (photo credit i1.2)

  Head of a Woman, MARCH 1885, OIL ON CANVAS, 16⅞ × 13⅛ IN.. (photo credit i1.3)

  The Potato Eaters, APRIL-MAY 1885, OIL ON CANVAS, 32 ⅜ × 44 ⅞ IN. (photo credit i1.4)

  The Old Church Tower at Nuenen (“The Peasants’ Churchyard”), MAY–JUNE 1885, OIL ON CANVAS, 25 ⅝ × 34 ⅝ IN. (photo credit i1.5)

  Basket of Potatoes, SEPTEMBER 1885, OIL ON CANVAS, 17 ½ × 23 ⅝ IN. (photo credit i1.6)

  Still Life with Bible, OCTOBER 1885, OIL ON CANVAS, 25 ⅝ 30 ¾ IN. (photo credit i1.7)

  A Pair of Shoes, EARLY 1887, OIL ON CANVAS, 13
⅜ × 16 ⅜ IN. (photo credit i1.8)

  Torso of Venus, JUNE 1886, OIL ON CARDBOARD, 13 ⅞ × 10 ⅝ IN. (photo credit i1.9)

  In the Café: Agostina Segatori in Le Tambourin, JANUARY-MARCH 1887 OIL ON CANVAS, 21 ⅞ × 18 ⅜ IN. (photo credit i1.10)

  Caraf and Dish with Citrus Fruit, FEBRUARY–MARCH 1887, OIL ON CANVAS, 18 ⅛ × 15 IN. (photo credit i1.11)

  View from Theo’s Apartment, MARCH–APRIL 1887, OIL ON CANVAS, 18 ⅛ × 15 IN. (photo credit i1.12)

  Vegetable Gardens in Montmartre: La butte Montmartre, JUNE–JULY 1887, OIL ON CANVAS, 37 ⅞ × 47 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.13)

  Interior of a Restaurant, JUNE-JULY 1887, OIL ON CANVAS, 17 ⅞ × 22 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.14)

  Fritillaries in a Copper Vase, APRIL–MAY 1887, OIL ON CANVAS, 28 ⅞ × 23 ⅞ IN. (photo credit i1.15)

  Self-Portrait, SPRING 1887, OIL ON CARDBOARD, 16 ½ × 13 ½ IN. (photo credit i1.16)

  Wheatfield with Partridge, JUNE–JULY 1887, OIL ON CANVAS, 21 ⅜ × 25 ¼ IN. (photo credit i1.17)

  Self-Portrait with Straw Hat, AUGUST–SEPTEMBER 1887, OIL ON CARDBOARD, 16 ⅛ × 13 IN. (photo credit i1.18)

  Flowering Plum Tree: after Hiroshige, OCTOBER–NOVEMBER 1887, OIL ON CANVAS, 21 ¾ × 18 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.19)

  Portrait of Père Tanguy, 1887, OIL ON CANVAS, 36 ⅛ × 29 ½ IN. (photo credit i1.20)

  Self-Portrait as a Painter, DECEMBER 1887-FEBRUARY 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 25 ⅝ × 19 ⅞ IN. (photo credit i1.21)

  Pink Peach Tree in Blossom (Reminiscence of Mauve), MARCH 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 28 ¾ × 23 ¼ IN. (photo credit i1.22)

  The Langlois Bridge at Arles with Women Washing, MARCH 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 21 ⅜ × 25 ⅝ IN. (photo credit i1.23)

  The Harvest, JUNE 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 28 ¾ × 36 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.24)

  Fishing Boats on the Beach at Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, LATE JUNE 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 25 ¼ × 31 ⅞ IN. (photo credit i1.25)

  The Zouave, JUNE 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 25 ⅝ × 21 ⅜ IN. (photo credit i1.26)

  La mousmé, Sitting, JULY 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 29 ⅛ × 23 ⅝ IN. (photo credit i1.27)

  Portrait of the Postman Joseph Roulin, EARLY AUGUST 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 31 ⅞ × 25 ⅝ IN. (photo credit i1.28)

  Portrait of Patience Escalier, AUGUST 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 25 ⅛ × 21 ¼ IN. (photo credit i1.29)

  Still Life: Vase with Oleanders and Books, AUGUST 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 23 ⅝ × 28 ¾ IN. (photo credit i1.30)

  The Café Terrace on the Place du Forum, Arles, at Night, SEPTEMBER 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 31 ⅞ × 25 ⅞ IN. (photo credit i1.31)

  The Night Café in the Place Lamartine in Arles, SEPTEMBER 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 27 ⅝ × 35 IN. (photo credit i1.32)

  The Yellow House (“The Street”), SEPTEMBER 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 29 ⅞ × 37 IN. (photo credit i1.33)

  Starry Night over the Rhône, SEPTEMBER 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 11 ⅛ × 36 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.34)

  Self-Portrait (Dedicated to Paul Gauguin), SEPTEMBER 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 24 ¼ × 20 ½ IN. (photo credit i1.35)

  Portrait of the Artist’s Mother, OCTOBER 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 15 ⅞ × 12 ⅞ IN. (photo credit i1.36)

  Public Garden with Couple and Blue Fir Tree: The Poet’s Garden III, OCTOBER 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 28 ⅞ × 36 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.37)

  Tarascon Diligence, OCTOBER 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 28 ⅜ × 36 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.38)

  L’artésienne: Madame Ginoux with Books, NOVEMBER 1888 (OR MAY 1889), OIL ON CANVAS, 35 ¼ × 28 ⅜ IN. (photo credit i1.39)

  Madame Roulin Rocking the Cradle (La Berceuse), JANUARY 1889, OIL ON CANVAS, 36 ⅝ × 29 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.40)

  Vincent’s Chair with His Pipe, DECEMBER 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 36 ⅝ × 28 ⅞ IN. (photo credit i1.41)

  Gauguin’s Chair, DECEMBER 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 35 ⅝ × 28 ⅜ IN. (photo credit i1.42)

  Self-Portrait with Bandaged Ear and Pipe, JANUARY 1889, OIL ON CANVAS, 20 ⅛ × 17 ¾ IN. (photo credit i1.43)

  Still Life: Vase with Fifteen Sunflowers, AUGUST 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 36 5/8 × 28 ¾ IN. (photo credit i1.44)

  Irises, MAY 1889, OIL ON CANVAS, 28 × 36 5/8 IN. (photo credit i1.45)

  Starry Night, JUNE 1889, OIL ON CANVAS, 28 ⅜ × 36 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.46)

  Cypresses, 1889, OIL ON CANVAS, 37 ¼ × 28 ¾ IN. (photo credit i1.47)

  Tree Trunks with Ivy (Undergrowth), JULY 1889, OIL ON CANVAS, 29 ⅛ × 36 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.48)

  Self-Portrait, SEPTEMBER 1889, OIL ON CANVAS, 25 ⅝ × 21 ⅜ IN. (photo credit i1.49)

  The Bedroom, EARLY SEPTEMBER 1889, OIL ON CANVAS, 28 ¾ × 36 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.50)

  The Sower, NOVEMBER 1888, OIL ON CANVAS, 12 5/8 × 15 ¾ IN. (photo credit i1.51)

  Wheat Fields with a Reaper, EARLY SEPTEMBER 1889, OIL ON CANVAS, 29 ⅛ × 36 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.52)

  Portrait of Trabuc, an Attendant at Saint-Paul Hospital, SEPTEMBER 1889, OIL ON CANVAS, 24 × 18 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.53)

  Trees in the Garden of Saint-Paul Hospital, OCTOBER 1889, OIL ON CANVAS, 35 ¼ × 28 ¾ IN. (photo credit i1.54)

  Olive Picking, DECEMBER 1889, OIL ON CANVAS, 28 ¾ × 35 IN. (photo credit i1.55)

  Noon: Rest from Work (after Millet), JANUARY 1890, OIL ON CANVAS, 28 ¾ × 35 ⅞ IN. (photo credit i1.56)

  Les Peiroulets Ravine, OCTOBER 1889, OIL ON CANVAS, 28 ¾ × 36 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.57)

  Almond Blossom, FEBRUARY 1890, OIL ON CANVAS, 28 7/8 × 36 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.58)

  Irises, MAY 1890, OIL ON CANVAS, 36 ⅛ × 28 ⅞ IN. (photo credit i1.59)

  The Church at Auvers, JUNE 1890, OIL ON CANVAS, 37 × 29 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.60)

  Portrait of Doctor Gachet, JUNE 1890, OIL ON CANVAS, 26 ¼ × 22 IN. (photo credit i1.61)

  Daubigny’s Garden, JULY 1890, OIL ON CANVAS, 19 ⅝ × 40 IN. (photo credit i1.62)

  Tree Roots, JULY 1890, OIL ON CANVAS, 19 ¾ × 39 ¼ IN. (photo credit i1.63)

  Wheat Field with Crows, JULY 1890, OIL ON CANVAS, 19 ⅞ × 39 ⅛ IN. (photo credit i1.64)

  A Note on Sources

  It was originally our intention to include in this volume a complete set of notes so that the reader could precisely identify the source of all the factual material used in the text and so that we could share additional relevant information. Our biography of Jackson Pollock included almost one hundred pages of such ancillary material, consisting in roughly equal parts of source identification and commentary.

  Not long after beginning this book, however, we realized that Vincent van Gogh’s life and the vast literature it has inspired presented a far more daunting challenge for biographers bent on thorough documentation than the relatively undocumented life of Jackson Pollock. (Most of the research for that book consisted of interviews with people who had known the artist.)

  There are a number of reasons for this. First and foremost, of course, are the thousands of letters that Vincent famously wrote. As invaluable as they have been to this (and every) Van Gogh biography, they also introduce a Gordian knot of research complications. The most fundamental of these, for the non-Dutch biographer at least, is translation. Until very recently, there was only one definitive English translation of Vincent’s letters: the one produced by his sister-in-law, Theo’s wife Johanna Bonger. Her translation is the one most familiar to English speakers and the one most available in the libraries of the English-speaking world. It was Bonger’s translation that guided us through most of the writing of this book.

  Recently, however, the Van Gogh Museum completed a fifteen-year project of retranslating Vincent’s letters and the result is the monumental and indisputably definitive Complete Letters published in 2009 and available online at www.vangoghletters.org.

  The existence of two translations—one more modern and scholarly but the other more familiar—had a substantial impact on a set of notes that aspired to completeness. Whenever we quote a short passage from the letters (or, as we often do, a single word), we felt an obligation to prov
ide the fuller passage in the notes in order to inform the reader of the context from which the words were taken. With two translations, one making a claim on the past, the other a claim on the future, we felt obligated to include the contextual passages from both translations in our notes. This had the immediate effect of doubling their length.

  A far larger problem than translation was interpretation—a problem that would have presented itself even if the letters had been originally written in English. Our biography differs from many previous biographies of Vincent van Gogh in at least this one important respect: we have not taken Vincent’s letters as a necessarily reliable record of the events of his life, or even of his thinking at any given time—at least not directly. They are not entries in a diary or a journal, although they are often treated as such. They are not inner unburdenings intended only for their author. The corpus of Vincent’s writings consists almost entirely of letters that he wrote to his family and friends. Of these, the overwhelming majority were addressed to his brother Theo.

 

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