"Starry Night" vs. "The Potato Eaters"

 I was probably eleven years old when I started asking my father, an artist (and a great one), about Vincent Van Gogh.  "Starry Night" amazed me even though I only saw pictures of it in art history books, postcards, posters, and on the covers of blank cards.  I was sure that seeing the real thing would be extremely mind-blowing.  I liked "Starry Night" so much that I think, one day, my admiration for the famous Vincent Van Gogh painting led my dad to decide that he's going to make his own version of it.  

And so he did.   And I can see a beautiful "Starry Night" à la Peria whenever I want.  It's resting against one of the walls of our family room.  Sometimes you'll see me sitting on the sofa and assume I'm just watching TV, but sometimes I find myself just staring at its beauty.

Me and my dad… We're not as close as we used to be.  I think it's partially because of the fact that I've grown up.  And partially because we disagree about a lot of things.  Like, let's see… my studies, my eating out habits, my being a squanderer, my extremely messy nature when it comes to my bedroom, etc.  But if there was one thing that we agree about, that one thing would be ART.

We talk about art quite frequently.  Even more lately because I just saw IT.  "Starry Night."  Finally.  (Thank you, Mr. BF, for taking me to the Museum of Modern Art).  It was a great moment.  One that I will always remember.  So great that I'll probably grow old and senile one day, but I'll force myself to keep that memory in my head.  So here's how it happened, my first encounter.  I entered the gallery, holding the hand of the man I love, and I knew where it was because there was a crowd of people admiring it, looking at it.  I looked around at the other pieces closer to the doorway first, Matisse, Picasso, and then I couldn't stand it anymore.  It really drew me in.  Like a force I couldn't control from taking over. 

And there it was.  It wasn't what I expected it would be like.  I remember saying out loud, "It's beautiful. Beautiful."  But there was something else I wanted to say that I couldn't.  I didn't want people to notice.  Or maybe they did, but like me they didn't want to say it out loud.  That would've been like a crime.  I didn't want anyone to know what I was thinking.  That… It was… dull.  And for such a famous piece of art, you would think the framing would be done better.  But no.  I was happy to see it, nonetheless.  Still, it was beautiful to me.  Definitely more magical than the pictures and prints of it that I've seen through the years.  But I expected… more.  I sensed disappointment starting to kill my admiration for it… so I kept that four-letter word hidden in my thoughts and with a smile, I walked away.  

"Starry Night" amazed me, but "The Potato Eaters" … hmm, that's a different story.  While I can call "Starry Night" beautiful, fantastic, marvelous, magnificent, maybe even magical… I don't think I can use any of those words to describe the way I see "The Potato Eaters."  See "Starry Night" is pretty to look at, but it's what Van Gogh painted 4 years before "Starry Night" that truly moves me to a different place.  "The Potato Eaters."  It's moving.  It touches and inspires me in ways "Starry Night" never will.  It really gets to me.  

The dark.  The gloomy.  That is Vincent Van Gogh.  "The Potato Eaters."  Its darkness and gloominess; the aura of sadness that surrounds that dimly-lit room.  The figures… just there, not standing out, not sitting with awkward looks on their faces… just… there.  Living their daily lives.  Acting naturally.  Which means they're not even acting at all.  They ARE all natural.  And I love that.  There is sadness, but peacefulness too and a tiny glimpse of hope.  Potatoes and poor, skinny workers at supper.  Boney fingers feeding their hungry mouths.  I can feel their tiredness and hunger.  The pain of living life as a peasant.  The man patiently listens as I hear the women talking.  About what?  Poverty maybe.  Memories of the past.  Exchanging wishes and hopes of change.  Work accomplished that day and work awaiting them the day ahead.  Normal, life as a peasant conversations.  Definitely not Paris Hilton's being in jail. 

Vincent Van Gogh planned this painting for two years, he sketched it many times, made a number of lithograph prints of it, painted it then painted his final draft.  He didn't just slap some paint on that rectangular space and call it a day.  He didn't just spit it out while he was in an asylum.  Yet it still did not turn out as Vincent Van Gogh wanted it to be.  It did not fit in along with the bright, colorful paintings that were becoming more popular at the time.  He wasn't satisfied.  But I am.  Like some people, I believe Vincent Van Gogh's first great masterpiece is "The Potato Eater."  

That being said… 

It's not all about "Starry Night."  Although it is a great work of his.  Although it is talked about and dreamed about.  Admired and desired.  Vincent Van Gogh is not "Starry Night." 

Vincent Van Gogh.  Poor.  Barely got by.  Nobody wanted to buy his work.  Even his own brother wouldn't try to sell it.  Poor.  Barely had the money to buy his own paint.

Vincent Van Gogh.  He IS "The Potato Eater."

And my dad agrees.