I’m such a nobody.
I put my heart and soul into my work,
and in the process I have lost my mind.
The only time I feel alive is when I’m painting.
I am seeking, I am striving,
I am in it now with all my heart.
I only wish they’d take me as I am.
The sadness lasts forever.
Yet, in the depths of misery,
there is still a calm in me,
a music, a pure harmony.
And I see paintings, drawings
everywhere:
in poorest cottages and dirty corners.
Poetry surrounds us on all sides.
I’ve tried to show the café as a place
where one can come to ruin
or go mad, commit a crime.
I’m always doing what I can’t do yet,
so I can learn to do it.
I think that I still have it in my heart someday
to paint a bookshop
with a yellow front, pink in the evening…
a light in the midst of darkness.
I often think the night is more alive,
more richly colored than the day.
The lamps are burning
and the starry sky is over all.
I am not sure of anything,
but starry skies can make me dream.
Looking
–looking for a long time —
ripens you,
gives you a deeper meaning.
In spite of everything,
I’ll rise again.
For I have nature, art and poetry.
If that is not enough, what is?
From the words of Vincent Van Gogh
Linda Frye Burnham 2013
“Leaves after Van Gogh,” woodland banner by Steven Durland
Vincent Van Gogh, “Starry Night” (1889)