Hodaya Twito

Artist & Blogger

An optimistic curly girl who likes a simple art, visual lifestyle. 
Sharing my thoughts and insights about life and art lifestyle in particular.
Working on connecting to myself and my feelings, 
that’s the hardest thing for me to do.
Welcome to my life’s journey.



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Van Gogh was recognized only after his death and it pissed me off

It’s a little non-Pierre, it’s a little angry.
It’s like there is someone who suddenly becomes famous and everyone wants to be his friends, like, where the hell have you been so far?
Van Gogh had a very difficult life. He suffered from poverty, loneliness, and mental illness.
God gives nuts to those who have no teeth, this phrase feels right to me for some reason because Van Gogh was a talented painter but nothing came of it.
He lived a life of misery until in 1890, at the age of only thirty-seven, he decided to end everything and committed suicide. Well, now there is a hypothesis that there was a situation accidentally shot by two boys he knew.

|Personal opinion|

Everyone knows Van Gogh or at least knows how to connect his name with art.
Vincent van Gogh – actually in Dutch it sounds like Penn Hooch – is considered one of the greatest painters ever.
Is associated with the post-impressionist art movement.
Born in 1853, in a small town in the Netherlands (Zundert, if that matter.)
His father a minister of the Dutch Reformed Church, and his mother Anna Cornelia Carbentus was a moody artist who loves nature, drawing, and watercolor.
He was the oldest surviving brother, he has six siblings. There was a brother before him who passed away one year before Vincent was born and he was given the name of him (which was given the name of his grandfather or his great-uncle, actually. Vincent was a common name in the Van Gogh family.) Some say that this experience has had a great impact on him, I mean, has not started life yet and already has a heavy shadow on it.
About his other siblings, we know a little, probably less relevant.
Except for Theo, of course, with whom he had a strong connection, they were writing to each other a lot, and he supported Vincent financially and mentally until his last day.

Vincent was known as a quiet, thoughtful, and depressing child.
He was basically influenced by his minister father, and it took him a while to fall in love with the art and find the shelter there.
He did draw a little when he was a kid, but not something to put your mind on.
In his youth, he tried to work in all kinds of jobs. For example, at the age of sixteen, he worked for his uncle in the art trade, but got fired, probably due to lack of motivation, then worked a bit in England as a teacher, moved to book sales in the Netherlands and eventually worked as a missionary in Belgium there he distributed his belongings and slept on the floor, but after Less than a year into the role, the religious organization that sponsors it decided that its style did not suit them and that it would not continue. He also preached for free for a period of time and began painting his first charcoal paintings, but eventually stopped preaching and Vincent turned to his last profession – he chose the art.
It is funny. Artists don’t choose to be artists, they are just born like that.
Singers, painters, dancers, mathematicians, whatever. I think it’s something you were born with, that you have a talent for, and you decide to develop the direction because it’s already something you’re attracted to, loving and, good at and having the natural approach to it.
Or alternatively, because you do not have the basic talent and you do, you decide to work hard to achieve the goal, harder but certainly possible.
Either way, it is a desire to succeed and probably a passion for the profession.
But for Vincent, it seems like the choice of art came from lack choice, I know that he did fall in love with art, it was his escape and it was literally his life, but only after being fired for few works, because he acted like an ass, he did decide to focus on art with all his might.
That’s why in 1880 he moved to Brussels and decided to become an artist, thank God.
Other great artists we know have breathed the art of giving birth. As young children, they were the help of great artisans, mixing the colors, arranging the studio, and learning the secrets of the profession, until they became great artists themselves and got richer from it.
Vincent was different.
He began to practice art at a late age, his total years of art spanning only ten years.
With no prior preparation, he took lessons on his own, read books on the subject, deepened, and did not earn his craft a damn dime.
But the art helped him stay sane and emotionally balanced, and his brother Theo financed him until his last day.
His works are divided into two main periods: the period when he was in the Netherlands and drew dark, gloomy, dense works. And the time he spent in the south of France and drew works full of light and bright colors, sun, and butterflies, and happy.
His first masterpiece, she is also well known and widely spoken is: “The Potato Eaters”.

The Potato Eaters, 1885.

I’ll tell you the truth, I don’t like his paintings.
Sorry, it’s not that I don’t like it, they are very beautiful to me, from the brushstrokes, the colors, and I can learn a lot from them, but just that’s it.
It might be ironic for me to say such a thing – I didn’t find myself getting excited with everyone (This is not something new to me).
I do think his story touched me more than anything. I was interested to hear who he was, what had happened to him along the way, and why he had been unsuccessful in his life. He was a sad and interesting personality.
True, the letters he left behind are the main entry card for his brain, thoughts, and art theories, but where the hell do all of the art sails come from a century after his death, begin to give lessons, and interpret his life, and what happened to him?
It felt like a very big social boycott, from all corners of the world, and suddenly, in one second someone familiar tweets: “Hey, he’s actually good, that Van Gogh.” Boom. Everyone gets excited without knowing why. Very upsetting.
Why is it even more upsetting? I think there are two main things that bother me, personally.
First of all, because he managed to sell in his life one single painting – “The Red Vineyard” for four hundred Francs, worth about two thousand dollars. I mean, here he did try.
And today, there is “Portrait of Dr. Gachet” which is a work based on Dr. Gachet who was Van Gogh’s doctor and he accompanied him in his last days. It has two versions, both of them Vincent painted in 1890, in a few months before his death.
His first and most expensive version was sold after passing several incarnations, in the 1990s, a century after being painted, auctioned for $ 82.5 million, (As of 2019 it As of 2019, is valued at $ 161.4 million) among the highest amounts ever paid for painting for that time.
Today it ranks 16th on the list of most expensive paintings.
It turns out that most of the most famous works he painted when he was in a mental hospital.
He left behind more than 2,100 artworks, including 860 oil paintings, in ten years, and most of them painted for the last two years of his life.
That’s a lot of paintings in no years. It’s insane.


The first version of “Portrait of Dr.Gachet”. Sold for $ 82.5 million.


Dr.Gachet 2nd version.

The second thing, what still bothers me is… How can I explain it?
In his life, he was considered crazy, and failure, and mental disorders, and all that kind of shit, and after his death became the greatest genius who preceded his time, that no one understood then.
Maybe it’s a little too emotional for me thinking that, and all this Van Gogh happened really long ago, but I feel like there is a miserable human soul here, and people just pry into his wounds and begin to interpret paintings, read his letters, to be amazed…
For what? That he was poor and put it out on the canvas?
I try to imagine, and think if he was recognized while alive, he would be saved? In the first place, he was thoughtful, closed-minded, and strange, even as a child, but if his course of life had developed in a positive direction? The contents of the paintings would probably have looked different, his life would have looked different too.
Could it be that today he would not have been considered a genius?
Was he otherwise appreciated?
Or less?
I mean, the grief, and the difficulty, the madness, the attempt to cope, the painting, and the letters as a place of emotion – all these brought him to paint like a crazy, like is in its own madness, a lot of paintings in so little time.
On the other hand, yes. There is the technique, the colors, the use of the paintbrush in a certain way, the artistic impact, what interested him at that time. He knew what he was doing technically, and he painted a lot of landscapes and portraits, mostly his.
So maybe the paintings would look calmer, comfortable, but the genius remains?

I am left with the question: What the cause that precisely after his death the exact same paintings made him so much valuable?

I’d love to know what you guys think.


I took some information from here:


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