A quiet delight in one's work
Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh, from Drenthe, 2 November 1883
That return of the flock in the dusk was the finale of the symphony I heard yesterday. The day passed like a dream, I had been so immersed in that heart-rending music all day that I had literally forgotten to eat and drink - I had had a slice of black bread and a cup of coffee in the little inn where I had drawn the spinning wheel. The day was over and from dawn till dusk, or rather from one night till the next, I had lost myself in that symphony. I came home and as I sat by the fire it occurred to me that I felt hungry, no, I realized I was ravenous.
But now you can see what it is like here. One feels just as if one were at, say, an exhibition des cent chef-d'œvres. What does one bring back from such a day? Merely a number of rough sketches. Yet there is something else one brings back - a quiet delight in one's work.
Letter 340
Translation courtesy of Robert Harrison.
Back to The Way of Vincent: Making art no matter what
That return of the flock in the dusk was the finale of the symphony I heard yesterday. The day passed like a dream, I had been so immersed in that heart-rending music all day that I had literally forgotten to eat and drink - I had had a slice of black bread and a cup of coffee in the little inn where I had drawn the spinning wheel. The day was over and from dawn till dusk, or rather from one night till the next, I had lost myself in that symphony. I came home and as I sat by the fire it occurred to me that I felt hungry, no, I realized I was ravenous.
But now you can see what it is like here. One feels just as if one were at, say, an exhibition des cent chef-d'œvres. What does one bring back from such a day? Merely a number of rough sketches. Yet there is something else one brings back - a quiet delight in one's work.
Letter 340
Translation courtesy of Robert Harrison.
Back to The Way of Vincent: Making art no matter what
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