Loving Vincent Page #2

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Six months after we buried

Vincent, Theo was dead loo.

Wow, the two of them.

So how did Vincent die?

He shot himself in

the fields above Auvers

by his easel doing what he

loved painting to the end.

Do you know why?

No.

Theo thought his unhappiness

went right back to childhood.

He tried so hard to

fit into his family.

But, he never succeeded in this.

Vincent told me he was the

oldest but Not The first.

There was another Vincent,

a stillborn older brother:.

He thought that boy

was the perfect Vincent

that he could never measure

up to in his mother's eyes.

He struggled to be what

they wanted him to be.

He joined his uncle's

art dealership

and was thrown out in disgrace.

He tried for his father's

profession, the church,

but the pastor exams

were too hard for him,

so he took a job as

a lowly missionary.

He managed to get

sacked even from that.

Yet another dead end.

But, Theo says he

believes in him

and that if Vincent

will fight for himself,

he will fight alongside him.

And, that was it.

Vincent picks up a brush

for the first time at 28,

and with Theo's support,

there is no stopping him.

So what happened then?

Paris happened.

He came here of course.

They all do.

Everyone does.

Monet, Toulouse, Seingnac,

Bernard, Manet, everybody

because everything that

happens in art happens here.

And, where do they

all buy their paints?

Pare Tanguy's of course.

Waitress a drink.

Make it pure.

Cheers.

We'll see if it's pure.

We'll keep that, thank you.

Pure is purer.

We must Be fine,

to the buyer an ego

like no other I grant you.

But, a weekend painter.

Look at him always drawing.

What is it you were

saying on entry?

Which way up is it?

Grow up Henri.

Lei me finish

it in a minute for him.

Oh I forgot You can't.

You're being vile.

The vile doth deny.

For many artists,

Paris is a final destination

but not for him.

It was a stopover to learn

what he needed to learn,

and then he was off in

search of his own path.

You've done it.

It Was in his sleep.

It's the kindest thing.

I saw him once

more after two years.

He was calmer, more assured.

Take good care.

And, I thought this is a man

whose story will end well.

His star finally rising,

his revolution won.

So think how shocking

it was to be standing

over Vincent's coffin

just six weeks later.

So sad.

For many he died

a martyr for art,

but for me, it seems odd.

Why?

In only eight

years, he had traveled

from amateur to an artist

of influence, unbelievable.

Monet declared him

the shining star

of the Independent

Artist's Fair.

And, he was cured

according to his doctor,

Dr. Gachet who had looked

after Vincent in Auvers.

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