The Letters of Vincent van Gogh

by Vincent Van Gogh

  The relationship between the two brothers remained extremely tense for some time to come. Referring to pictures by Delacroix and Daumier of the revolution of 1848, Vincent compared his brother and himself to two soldiers on different sides of a barricade, firing at each other for the sake of their respective ideals: ‘But since we are brothers, let us, for instance, rule out killing each other (in a figurative sense). Even so, we cannot help each other as much as two people who are standing side by side in the same camp […]. My gibes are not bullets aimed at you, who are my brother, but more generally at the side [the art trade] to which you happen to belong.’

  In the letters he wrote during the autumn of 1884, Van Gogh mooted the idea of going to Antwerp for further training. When Theo wrote to tell him how hard it was to sell Vincent’s dark pictures in Paris, where modern painters were currently using a much brighter palette, Van Gogh realized how little he really knew about the latest developments in art. He could barely fathom what Theo meant when he wrote about ‘impressionism’, something Vincent himself had never come across: ‘Here in Holland, it is hard to make any sense out of what impressionism really means. But both he [Van Rappard] and I are very interested in finding out what the present-day trend is.’

  None the less, Van Gogh’s tone during this period had a slightly more self-confident ring. For instance, he seemed to have acquired no fewer than three pupils, whom he taught to paint still lifes against payment in tubes of paint. In addition he had great plans for an ambitious interior with figures in which he hoped to emulate his beloved Millet and De Groux in realism, character and ‘serious sentiment’. He described it as ‘a piece showing these peasants round a dish of potatoes in the evening”. He produced a long series of studies of Brabant types, the heads of peasants and of peasant women, for it, and, as a first step, completed a large sketch of the proposed composition. At times, however, his ambition seemed not to stretch beyond becoming an illustrator for a leading magazine, such as Le chat noir. He sent a lithograph based on the sketch to Van Rappard, as well as to his brother in Paris, asking Theo to show the print to the art dealer Alphonse Portier.

  In the end there emerged, painted from memory, the fruit of the well-nigh endless series of studies, Van Gogh’s first genuine ‘painting’, the definitive version of The Potato Eaters.

  Anticipating his later use of coloured woollen threads to test colour combinations, Van Gogh compared his efforts to combine the right colours with the way in which a weaver composes his patterns. The heads of the peasants had ‘the colour of a good dusty potato’, and the whole was done in ‘copper and green-soap-like tones’.

  400 [D]

  [c. 13 April 1885]

  My dear Theo,

  Many thanks for your regist. letter of yesterday & the enclosure. I am writing at once in reply & enclose a small sketch, based more closely on my last study than the one before. I haven’t been able to get as far with it as I would have liked. I worked on it continually for 3 days from morning to night, and by Saturday night the paint had begun to get into a state which prevented further work until it had dried out completely.

  I went to Eindhoven today to order a small stone, as this is to become the first of a series of lithographs, on which I intend to start again. When you were here I asked you about the costs of reproduction by the G. & Cie process. I think you said it would be 100 firs. Well, the old, now so little thought of, ordinary lithographic process is quite a lot cheaper - especially in Eindhoven, perhaps. I get the use of the stone, graining, paper, & the printing of 5 o copies for 3 guilders.

  Anyway, I intend to do a series of subjects from peasant life -les paysans chez eux.1

  Today I went for a splendid walk for a few hours with an acquaintance of mine whose first watercolour of a figure I showed you.

  I don’t say that the scenery isn’t even more stirring and more dramatic, say in Brittany, in Katwijk or in the Borinage — yes indeed, but even so, the heath and the villages here are very beautiful as well, and once there, I find an inexhaustible source of subjects from peasant life - and the only thing that matters is to get down to it, to work.

  I’ve a great mind to do some watercolours & drawings again as well — and when I’m in my studio, I’ll be able to make time for that in the evenings.

  I was tremendously pleased that you sent me the 100 frs. As I said, it was absolutely essential that I pay several things off- and that was on my mind. Not that people were bothering me for it, but I knew they needed the money. And that is why I wrote that

  1 might have to keep something back when the estate is settled.2 But that won’t be necessary now - although I can tell you that this year is bound to be very grim. But I keep thinking of what Millet said, ‘Je ne veux point supprimer la souffrance, car souvent c’est elle, qui fait s’exprimer le plus énergiquement les artistes.’3

  I think I’ll be moving by 1 May — although I’m getting on well of course with Mother and our sisters, I can still see and sense it is pour le mieux4 this way - since in the long run it would hardly be feasible to live together. Which I can put down neither to them personally nor to myself personally so much as to the incompatibility of the ideas of people who seek to maintain a certain social standing and a painter of peasant life who gives the matter no thought.

  When I say that I am a painter of peasant life, that is a fact, and it will become increasingly apparent to you in the future that I feel at ease as one. It was not for nothing that I spent so many evenings musing by the fire in their homes with the miners and the peat cutters and the weavers & the peasants -unless I was working too hard for that.

  By continually observing peasant life, at all hours of the day, I have become so involved in it that I rarely think of anything else.

  You write that the public attitude - that is, indifference to Millet’s work, as you have just had occasion to observe at the exhibition - is not encouraging, either for artists or for those who have to sell paintings. I quite agree - but Millet himself felt & knew this - and on reading Sensier I was very struck by something he said at the beginning of his career, which I don’t remember word for word, only the purport of it, namely, ‘that (i.e. that indifference) would be bad enough if I had need of fine shoes and the life of a gentleman, but - puisque j’y vais en sabots - je m’en tirerai’.5 And so it turned out.

  What I hope never to forget is that ‘il s’agit d’y aller en sabots’,6 that is, being content with the kind of food, drink, clothes and sleeping arrangements with which peasants are content.

  That is what Millet did and indeed he wanted nothing else -and to my mind this means that he set an example to painters as a human being, which Israels and Mauve, for instance, who live rather luxurious lives, have not, and I repeat, Millet is father Millet, that is, counsellor and mentor in everything to the younger painters. Most of those whom I know, but then I don’t know all that many, would not subscribe to this view. For my part, I do, and fully believe in what he says.

  I’m talking at some length about this dictum of Millet’s because you write that when city-dwellers paint peasants, their figures, splendidly done though they may be, cannot but remind one of the faubourgs7 of Paris. I used to have the same impression too (although in my opinion B. Lepage’s woman digging potatoes is certainly no exception), but isn’t this because the painters have so often failed to immerse themselves personally in peasant life? Millet said on another occasion, Dans l’art il faut y mettre sa peau.8

  De Groux - this is one of his qualities - painted peasants properly. (And they, the State, demanded historical pictures from him! Which he also did well, but how much better he was when he was allowed to be himself.) It will always be a shame and disgrace that De Groux is not yet as fully appreciated by the Belgians as he deserves. De Groux is one of the best Millet-like masters. But although he neither was’nor is acknowledged by the public at large, and although, like Daumier and Tassaert, he remains in obscurity, there are people, Mellery, for example, to name but one, who are working al
ong his lines again today.

  I saw something by Mellery recently in an illustrated paper, a bargee’s family in the little cabin of their boat - husband, wife, children - round a table.

  As far as popular support is concerned - years ago I read something on the subject in Renan which I have always remembered and which I shall always continue to believe - that anyone who wishes to accomplish something good or useful must not count on or seek the approval or appreciation of the general public, but, on the contrary, must expect only a very few warm hearts to sympathize and go along with him - and then only perhaps.

  If you come across the ‘Chat noir’ people, you might show them this small sketch to be going on with, but I can do a better one if they like, for this one was done in a great rush and is simply meant to give you a clearer idea of the effect and the composition than the first one. Regards & thanks, with a handshake,

  Ever Yours,

  Vincent

  You needn’t tell the ‘Chat noir’ that I also intend to make a lith. of this subject for myself. That lith. won’t be for publication, anyway, but is entirely a private affair. For that matter, I don’t much care if they don’t want to have it - because I shall certainly make lithographs myself of whatever I want to have lithographed.

  404 [D]

  [c. 30 April 1885]

  My dear Theo,

  My wannest good wishes for good health & peace of mind on your birthday. I should have liked to send the painting of the Potato Eaters for this day, but although it’s coming along well, it isn’t quite finished yet.

  Though the actual painting will have been completed in a comparatively short time, and largely from memory, it has taken a whole winter of painting studies of heads & hands.

  And as for the few days in which I have painted it now - it’s been a tremendous battle, but one for which I was filled with great enthusiasm. Even though at times I was afraid it would never come off. But painting, too, is ‘agir-creer’.1

  When weavers weave that cloth which I think they call cheviot, or those curious multicoloured Scottish tartan fabrics, then they try, as you know, to get strange broken colours and greys into the cheviot - and to get the most vivid colours to balance each other in the multicoloured chequered cloth - so that instead of the fabric being a jumble, the effet produit2 of the pattern looks harmonious from a distance.

  A grey woven from red, blue, yellow, off-white & black threads - a blue broken by a green and an orange, red or yellow thread - are quite unlike plain colours, that is, they are more vibrant, and primary colours seem hard, cold and lifeless beside them.

  Yet the weaver, or rather the designer, of the pattern or the colour combination does not always find it easy to make an exact estimate of the number of threads and their direction - no more than it is easy to weave brush strokes into a harmonious whole.

  If you could see the first painted studies I did on my arrival here in Nuenen side by side with the canvas I am doing now, I think you would agree that things are livening up a bit as far as colour is concerned.

  I feel certain that you too will get involved in the question of colour analysis one day. For as an art connoisseur and critic, it seems to me, one must also be sure of one’s ground and have firm convictions - for one’s own pleasure at least, and in order to substantiate one’s opinion. And one should also be able to explain it in a few words to others who sometimes turn to someone like yourself for information when they want to know a little more about art.

  But now I have something to say about Portier. Of course I am not wholly indifferent to his private opinion and I also appreciate his saying that he does not take back anything of what he has said. Nor do I mind that he apparently failed to hang these first studies. But - if he wants me to send him a painting intended for him, then he can only have it on condition that he shows it.

  As for the Potato Eaters - it is a painting that will do well in gold - of that I am certain. But it would do just as well on a wall papered in a deep shade of ripe corn. However, it simply mustn’t be seen without being set off in this way. It will not appear to full advantage against a dark background and especially not against a dull background. And that is because it is a glimpse into a very grey interior. In real life it is also set in a gold frame, as it were, because the hearth and the light from the fire on the white walls would be nearer the spectator - they are situated outside the painting, but in its natural state the whole thing is projected backwards.

  Once again, it must be set off by putting something coloured a deep gold or copper round it. Please bear that in mind if you want to see it as it should be seen. Associating it with a gold tone lends brightness to areas where you would least expect it, and at the same time does away with the marbled aspect it assumes if it is unfortunately placed against a dull or black background. The shadows are painted with blue and the gold colour sets this off.

  Yesterday, I took it to a friend of mine in Eindhoven who is doing some painting. In about 3 days’ time I’ll go back over there and give it some egg-white and finish off a few details.

  This man, who is trying very hard himself to learn how to paint and to handle colour, was particularly taken with it. He had already seen the study on which I had based the lithograph and said that he would never have believed I could improve the colour and the drawing to such an extent. As he, too, paints from the model, he is well aware of what there is to a peasant’s head or fist, and as for the hands, he said that he now had a quite different understanding of how to do them.

  The point is that I’ve tried to bring out the idea that these people eating potatoes by the light of their lamp have dug the earth with the self-same hands they are now putting into the dish, and it thus suggests manual labour and - a meal honestly earned. I wanted to convey a picture of a way of life quite different from ours, from that of civilized people. So the last thing I would want is for people to admire or approve of it without knowing why.

  I’ve held the threads of this fabric in my hands all winter long and searched for the definitive pattern - and although it is now a fabric of rough and coarse appearance, the threads have none the less been chosen with care and according to certain rules. And it might just turn out to be a genuine peasant painting. I know that it is. But anyone who prefers to have his peasants looking namby-pamby had best suit himself. Personally, I am convinced that in the long run one gets better results from painting them in all their coarseness than from introducing a conventional sweetness.

  A peasant girl, in her patched and dusty blue skirt & bodice which have acquired the most delicate shades from the weather, wind and sun, is better looking - in my opinion - than a lady. But if she dons a lady’s clothes, then her authenticity is gone. A peasant in his fustian clothes out in the fields [is] better looking than when he goes to church on Sundays in a kind of gentleman’s coat.

  And similarly, in my opinion, it would be wrong to give a painting of peasant life a conventional polish. If a peasant painting smells of bacon, smoke, potato steam, fine - that’s not unhealthy - if a stable reeks of manure - all right, that’s what a stable is all about - if a field has the smell of ripe corn or potatoes or of guano & manure - that’s properly healthy, especially for city dwellers. Such pictures might prove helpful to them. But a painting of peasant life should not be perfumed.

  I am eager to know whether you will find something in it to please you -I hope so.

  I’m glad that just as Mr Portier has said that he’ll handle my work, I’ve got something more important for him than studies. As for Durand Ruel - though he didn’t consider the drawings worth bothering with, do show him this painting. Let him think it ugly, I don’t mind - but let him have a look at it all the same, let people see that we put some effort into our endeavours. No doubt you’ll hear ‘quelle croûte!’3 Be prepared for that, as I am prepared myself. Yet we must go on providing something genuine and honest.

  Painting peasant life is a serious business, and I for one would blame myself if I didn’t try to make pict
ures that give rise to serious reflection in those who think seriously about art and life.

  Millet, De Groux, so many others, have set an example of character by turning a deaf ear to such taunts as ‘sale, grassier, boueux, puant’,4 &c, &c, so it would be a disgrace should one so much as waver. No, one must paint peasants as if one were one of them, as if one felt and thought as they do. Being unable to help what one actually is. I very often think that peasants are a world apart, in many respects one so much better than the civilized world. Not in all respects, for what do they know of art and many other things?

  I still have a few smaller studies - but you will appreciate that I’m being kept so busy by the larger one that I’ve been able to do little else. As soon as it is completely finished and dry, I shall forward you the canvas in a small packing case, adding a few smaller items. I think it would be as well not to delay the dispatch too long, which is why I’ll make haste with it. The second lithograph of it will probably have to be abandoned in that case, though I realize that Mr Portier, for instance, must have his opinion endorsed if we are to count on him once and for all as a friend. It is my sincere hope that we may.

  I have been so absorbed in the painting that I almost forgot that I am moving house, something that has to be attended to as well. My worries won’t be any the less, but the lives of all painters in this genre have been so full of cares that I shouldn’t want to have things any easier than they did. And since they managed to get their paintings done anyway, I, too, may be held back by material difficulties, but not destroyed or undermined by them. So there you are.

  I believe that The Potato Eaters will turn out well - as you know, the last few days are always tricky with a painting because before it’s completely dry one can’t use a large brush without running a real risk of spoiling it. And changes must be made very coolly and calmly with a small brush. That’s why I took it to my friend and asked him to make certain I didn’t spoil it, and why I’ll be going to his place to apply those finishing touches.