The Last Word
Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh, from Drenthe, 29 October 1883
One is not sure of things all at once, one cannot foresee things except very vaguely, but there is something called conscience after all, a kind of compass by which one can distinguish between this direction and that - between North and South - between right and left - at least broadly speaking. Which means - notwithstanding fortuitous currents and certain deceptively inviting coasts - being able to say, This is not the right course for me after all. And look, earning money in Paris, even for others' sakes, would, seem to me such a deceptive fata morgana: a coast that recedes more and more when you approach to make a landing there, at the same time causing you to be driven farther and farther off your course.
I see everything except fatality against painting; for Paris I see everything except fatality!
Fatality, in which with an unutterable feeling I see God, Who is the White Ray of Light, and Who has the last word; what is not good through and through is not good at all, and will not last - He, in Whose eyes even the Black Ray will have no plausible meaning.
Letter 337
Translation courtesy of Robert Harrison.
Back to The Way of Vincent: Making art no matter what
One is not sure of things all at once, one cannot foresee things except very vaguely, but there is something called conscience after all, a kind of compass by which one can distinguish between this direction and that - between North and South - between right and left - at least broadly speaking. Which means - notwithstanding fortuitous currents and certain deceptively inviting coasts - being able to say, This is not the right course for me after all. And look, earning money in Paris, even for others' sakes, would, seem to me such a deceptive fata morgana: a coast that recedes more and more when you approach to make a landing there, at the same time causing you to be driven farther and farther off your course.
I see everything except fatality against painting; for Paris I see everything except fatality!
Fatality, in which with an unutterable feeling I see God, Who is the White Ray of Light, and Who has the last word; what is not good through and through is not good at all, and will not last - He, in Whose eyes even the Black Ray will have no plausible meaning.
Letter 337
Translation courtesy of Robert Harrison.
Back to The Way of Vincent: Making art no matter what
Labels: anti-calling, calling, other
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