Van Gogh's Color Evolved. His Life Didn't.

In Spring 2020, I was excited to open a package containing my first Van Gogh photo book. I couldn't wait to dive in, to have my own desk reference for all of his paintings.  As I thumbed through the months and years of his short 10-year career, I was jolted by how dramatic the shift was from the drab earth tones of his early days to the vibrant colors of his last few years.

My mind immediately tried to parse the reason for the change. What brought about this relatively sudden shift in color? Was it mood, location, historical events, or artistic evolution? As I've come to learn, the answer is "Yes" to all of the above. But why wasn't this cocoon-to-butterfly transition from dark to expressive color mirrored in his personal life? 

Thumbing through my first Vincent van Gogh book, I was jolted by the color shift in his work. I created this image as a quick reference to his evolution over time.

Tracking Vincent's early use of color alongside his personal history, I see a sullen and withdrawn young man whose art mirrors his life. Vincent was looking for his purpose and voice in life.  Failure in everything he attempted seemed to nudge him toward finding answers in art.

In the depths of his despair, Vincent writes to his brother in June 1880 to acknowledge his current state of life. "Without wishing to, I've more or less become some sort of impossible and suspect character in the family… somebody who isn't trusted, so how, then, could I be useful to anybody in any way?" (Letter 155)

He compares his need to isolate and reflect on his life to the "molting" period birds go through to shed old feathers and grow a new coat. He cites example after example of how he is finding solace in the great works of art, "Rembrandt or Millet or Delacroix," and even how he finds art in great works of literature, "Shakespeare or Hugo or Beecher Stowe."

He's not yet fully aware of what the answer is: "In the springtime a bird in a cage knows very well that there's something he'd be good for; he feels very clearly that there's something to be done, but he can't do it." The letter reads cathartic, as if he's literally finding the answers—or at least asking the right questions—as he writes page after page. "I'm in a cage, I'm in a cage, and so I lack for nothing, you fools! Me, I have everything I need! Ah, for pity's sake, freedom, to be like other birds."

A mere three months later, perhaps with new feathers to preen, Vincent writes Theo again and asks to borrow a piece of art, Millet's "The labours of the field," and says, "you should know that I'm sketching large drawings after Millet and that I've done 'The four times of the day' as well as 'The Sower.'" He is engaged! (Letter 156)

After reflecting and connecting a few dots, it occurred to me, "Of course, Vincent would search for answers in art." His mother encouraged Vincent and his siblings to explore art; he took art courses throughout his childhood; and three of Vincent's uncles were art dealers, giving him intimate access to many great works.

It was around this time that I saw Vincent's passion turn to action, from sketches to drawings, and from drawings to paintings. But to my eye, the work still reflected a darkness, in color and expression.

"Weaver Arranging Threads" (1884) - Vincent van Gogh, Kröller-Müller Museum, Otterlo

In an extreme example, his 1884 work "Weaver Arranging Threads" depicts an interior scene of a weaver toiling in the pitch dark of an early evening, with only light from a window. I find myself talking to the art much like I did in some of the barely visible scenes in a Harry Potter movie: "Could someone light a candle, please?"

It seems that as he became more confident that art was the direction he needed in his life, he sought more training. For a few years, he bounced between formal instruction, internships with established artists, and intensive self-study.

And this training eventually led him to Paris in 1886 at his brother's suggestion. His timing was a stroke of luck as his arrival coincided with a major revolution in art, Impressionism. Experimenting with the painting styles of artists like Seurat, Pissarro, and Gauguin is when his brush began to express color more boldly.

When I had the opportunity to visit the Kröller-Müller Museum in Otterlo, Netherlands (a must-see), I was looking at "Interior of a Restaurant" And thought, "Wow, Signac and Seurat's pointillism really made an impact on Vincent." It's a pretty awesome feeling to read about such influences and then to see it jump out of the painting toward you.

"Interior of a Restaurant" (1887) Vincent van Gogh, Kröller-Müller Museum, Otterlo

Despite his Paris-driven rebirth in color, Vincent still struggled with life and relationships. This became clear to me as I read about his desire to form an artist commune in Arles, France. Vincent moved to Arles, rented the "Yellow House," and six months later, in October 1888, Paul Gauguin accepted his offer. Together, they shared a studio space. Vincent had achieved his ambition to replicate the artistic dialogue he had in Paris. And for a period, it was successful as Vincent and Gauguin created dozens of works.

Unfortunately, dialogue led to disagreement and ultimately conflict. While no one knows precise details of the arguments, the tumultuous relationship appeared to trigger a breakdown in Vincent and the slicing of his ear. Gauguin left soon after this episode, around Christmas, only nine weeks after arriving. Once again, Vincent was alone, isolated.

Vincent's evolution on the canvas gave his art a voice. He spoke through color. He wanted you to see what a powerful and awesome world it is and to respect it and the humblest of humans that occupied it.

But the more I learn about him, I don't think Vincent, the person, ever changed. I think learning to harness the power of color empowered him to be expressive in his art in ways he could never be in conversations or relationships.