The troubled canvas of the mind

"Artistic temperament sometimes seems a battleground, a dark angel of destruction and a bright angel of creativity wrestling" - Madeline D'Engle

On most days, my watercolors are off by themselves on the other side of my office, puddles of dry paint on their plastic palette.  But they're starved for attention, like a loyal old dog; making eyes at me while I work.  Whimpering.  But I can’t.  I really can’t.

The ochres and oxides, cadmiums and crimsons, don’t mix well with Outlook and Excel.  It's one or the other. 

Once in a while, I’ve tried and failed.  And have received confirmation.

I am convinced that there is an uncommon cerebral characteristic an artist must possess to acheive creative greatness.  The ability to separate one's mind.  A mechanism that can switch off the deductive, rational, and proper sorts of controls normally present in the conscious mind. 

Without this functional aberration, those that pick up the brush are mere mortals.  The potent and requisite creative energies are locked, fractured and blurred, as if trapped beneath the artic ice. 

This separation is the secret ingredient of genius.  It melts the ice.

But from where does it emerge?   Perhaps it’s a divine gift of creation.  At times, the gift is evident and applied from a young age.  But it is often muted; instilled in souls who are eventually pulled toward the creative abyss as if by some giant electromagnet; their anxiety only assuaged by the discovery and excerise of their craft.   Often their journey is enhanced by alcohol, opium, or absinthe.

Perhaps one of the best known of these troubled souls is the post-impressionist artist, Vincent Van Gogh.   He had an excessive, emotional, and unstable temperment.  Van Gogh suffered from many psychoses, including depression and bipolar disorder.  He contemplated his own death verbally and in some of his paintings.    He was miserable with his work and only sold one painting during his lifetime, "The Red Vineyard", which he painted in 1888.   It is on display today in the Pushkin Museum in Moscow.

He admired and painted alongside fellow artist Paul Gaugin.  But, after an argument with Gaugin, Van Gogh cut off part of his left ear and gave it to a prostitute.  Finally, at the age of 37, after a particulary intense period of painting, he shot himself in the chest.   He died in his brother Theo's arms.  His last words were said to be, "La tristesse durera toujours", which is French for "The sadness will last forever."

His colors were rich and vibrant.  Some said that they had an almost spiritual quality.  His brush strokes were sometimes short and choppy and at others full of circles and swirls, depending on his moods.  He brilliantly used canvas space and lines in his composition.  His works are among the most admired and appreciated in history.  

Perhaps Van Gogh's colors and brush strokes and composition reflected - or soothed - his tortured mind.   And just maybe, their manifestation on canvas was indeed spritual.  

Van Gogh was moody and unpredictable.  Few could appreciate the genius that his temperment channeled.   But it could well have been delivered from the heavens in the starry night.  It was the secret ingredient; both empowering and weakening.  It enabled his swirling and colorful and vibrant energy to flow from mind to brush to canvas, and it changed him.   It released his many demons. 

And yet it gave us the Cafe Terrace, Sunflowers and other treasures.  These works will last forever. 

The sadness was only fleeting.