Last Sunday, Beverly and I went to see a movie that was a breath of creatively fresh air in this world of junk food Hollywood. We saw the trailers for this movie and immediately knew we had to go.
Loving Vincent is a full length, fully oil painted feature film. The work is painted by artists in the style of the movie’s namesake, Vincent Van Gogh. If you like the great painters, especially Vincent Van Gogh, this is a must-see. Painted by 115 artists, each of the 65,000 frames is an oil painting on canvas. It truly is a work of love as well as a work of art.
The story is also poignant, and contains the story of the common soul. This is probably why, interestingly enough, the voice-actors all speak in a scruffy Scottish accent - not the sophisticated English accent that would be expected in a artsy film. The film focuses on the circumstances and journey of Vincent’s life and paints the artist as one who was always unable to fully connect in a world that is already disconnected with itself.
And yet, he was always passionate in that quest. It seems that the deepest connection he was able to achieve was through his paintings. After failing to “succeed” in life in the varied vocations of art dealer, school teacher and missionary he started drawing and painting at 27. In the final decade of his life, Vincent produced 2,100 works. 860 of these were oil paintings and most of them were completed in his last two years.
His relationships were as varied as his attempts at vocations and ranged from stormy to brooding. Again, Van Gogh always seemed to be struggling to connect - be that connection with people, himself or occupations. But the level of his passion to connect seemed intense (which is probably why his best means of connection was with the canvas). I believe that intensity may have gotten in the way, causing others to turn away instead of responding. In the end, it seems he gave up on all but his artwork. For at least the canvas would not leave him unrequited.
Isn’t that the story of all our lives, though? We are all searching to connect in a deep way. What that connection looks like is as variegated as the rainbow. And how we succeed is as subtle and diverse and tinted as the shadows in the early blues of morning. Some of us connect with others. Some of us connect with things. Some of us cannot succeed in connecting at all.
But can anyone truly claim to have connected to the extent that lies in the fabric of our being’s quest? In this world, the best that any of us can do is settle for something less than what we know should be. Whatever we get is the best that we can get. But it’s never enough, this side of the veil.
And in Vincent’s settling, the world suffered loss.
