Bunking with Vincent
We were just over at Van Gogh’s house in Arles the other day, and here we are again, having a good old nosy poke around.
This is what he sees.
It’s the middle of October 1888, and Vincent Van Gogh has just polished off five large canvases in one week. He writes to his brother Theo in Paris, complaining that he’s beat and, besides, the autumn winds are blinding him and coating the trees with white dust.
He stays inside and paints a picture of his room, “a new idea … this time it’s just simply my bedroom, only here colour is to do everything … “to be suggestive here of rest or of sleep in general. In a word, to look at the picture ought to rest the brain rather than the imagination.” See the rest.
