The Park of the Hospital at St Rémy, 1889 by Vincent van Gogh. Photograph: Museum Folkwang Essen
Impossible skies, trees that block your view, backdrops that compete with the faces he’s painting. And everything has an outline like a child’s work. Welcome to the unmissable world of Van Gogh. The exhibition at the National Gallery is not just stunning, it is a deeply emotional, visceral experience. Let me try and unpack this.
But first, buy a ticket, get on a waiting list, queue for one, borrow one, throw some cash at it. It’ll be the best money you spend this year.
Some 60 works covering the years 1888-1890 do not contain many of your favourites. Don’t worry. In fact, it’s the paintings you probably haven’t seen that resonate the most. There are landscapes that you simply feel. His brushstrokes conjure up the weather, temperature and mood of the place. Fields of wheat have been blown every which way by the wind. A stretch of grass is still moving in front of you. Clouds are scudding across the sky. And the trees; oh my word – the trees! They have been battered and twisted by nature. Baked by the sun into all colours of the rainbow. He places you with him, whether it’s a wide open landscape or the courtyard of the Saint-Remy Asylum. But here’s the thing.
The difference between you standing in front of one of his paintings as opposed to seeing it on a screen is immense. It is a completely separate experience. I think many of us feel the same about a zoom call as opposed to meeting the person face to face. In the room, it is a physical connection. Something of what he is feeling comes across in his painting. Something of what the sitter is feeling comes across. The mood and atmosphere of a place the same. And all of that draws out a response from you – a feeling, an emotion.
My wife had a catch in her throat as we moved round. She felt she was having a conversation with the painter or the sitter. The painting was the conduit. If there was a highlight (and there were many), try The Sower (1888). All his skill is at play. A tree in the middle (of course!) with red flowers dangling down, a figure to one side in black, fields of lavender, a mustard sky with Monet-like pink waterlily clouds, a huge golden sun. And his brush marks are drawing you to a point on the lefthand side. A painting you can get lost in.
Honestly, just go. No film, poster, website, book or postcard will do justice. You have to be there.
– Alastair Creamer
Book via the National Gallery website.