Yün un projet artistique et éducatif



I am in a fit of rage of work, as the trees are covered with flowers and I wanted to create an orchard of Provence of wild mirth. The climate here is indeed very healthy for me; I would recommend you a full breath of it. It has a rather funny effect on me : a single glass of brandy makes me tipsy here… I have a new orchard, which is as good as pink peach trees and apricot trees of a very pale pink shade. I am writing to you from Saintes Maries on the Mediterranean coast at long last. The colour of the Mediterranean is like that of the mackerels – changing. You never know if it is green or purple; you don’t know if it is really blue because, the moment after, the changing reflection takes a greyish pink shade… I took a stroll one night along the deserted beach. It was not merry, but it was not sad either, it was… beautiful. The deep blue sky was spotted with clouds that were of a blue that was deeper than the basic blue of intense cobalt, and yet others that were of a lighter blue, like the pale blue of the milky ways. In the blue background, the stars seemed bright, greenish, yellow, white, pink, paler, sparkling like diamonds and precious stones even more so than at home – even more so than in Paris – like opals, emeralds, lapis, rubies and sapphires. The sea of a deep ultra marine, the beach with its purplish-blue and pale red tinge and the shrubs on the dune reminded me of the blue shrubs of Prussia. Now that I have seen the sea here, I totally realise the importance of staying here in the South and of the feeling that one must exaggerate the colour even furthermore – Africa is not far away…

You know, I think that an association made of impressionists may come into being. I also tend to believe that artists would ensure livelihood to one another, and independently of merchants, they would all agree to offer a considerable amount to the society, and that gains and losses alike would be in common. I am not sure that such a society would continue to last indefinitely, but I do believe that as long as it lives, people would lead a courageous life and would be productive…

It is indeed a strange thing that, materially speaking, all the artists, poets, musicians, painters should be unhappy – even those who are happy. What you recently said about Guy de Maupassant is yet another proof of this. It churns up the same old question once again : is life entirely visible to our eyes or do we only know only one hemisphere of it before we die? If we were to take just one single example – the painters who are dead and buried communicate with the next generation or with many new generations, through their works. Is that all there is to it or is there something more behind? Maybe in a painter’s life, death is not the most difficult thing. I readily confess that I know nothing whatsoever about it. However, watching the stars makes me dream just as the black points representing cities and villages on a geographical map do. Why, I wonder, should the luminous points of the firmament be less accessible to us than the black points on the map of France?

If we take the train to Tarascon or Rouen, we take death to go onto a star. One thing is definitely true in this reasoning and that is – while we are alive, we cannot go onto a star, not any more than we can take a train once we are dead. Finally, I don’t find it impossible that cholera, gravel, consumption, cancer could be means of heavenly locomotion, just like steam boats, buses and railway are on earth. Dying of old age would be like going there walking.”

Vincent Van Gogh.

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