Wednesday, March 30, 2005

They have artist eyes

“I am trying…to achieve this…by rendering our impassioned expressions, by using…knowledge and appreciation of color as a means of rendering & exalting character.”—Vincent Van Gogh, June 1890

Vincent you madman with your
nebula eyes of color, sweeping,
rain in Provence fields, oh Vincent

your portraits of children frighten me,
you’ve painted them all with
the crazed eyes of haunted you, sadly swirling

Vincent manic greens swoop like
sparrows out of skulls, your
smirking asylum gardener is
smug among vines, your
Zoave watches your descent
into his stones, his incongruous
soldier tones like steel
worn men crouch a moment from
speaking, your children stare fiercely

at you, veiled in canvas, moments from
speaking in oiltongues, you
crouch behind a portrait wall,
an exalted vaudeville gallery of capture
shields you, your whispering song of
sorrow & vision in the flicker of
your hand

Vincent your models are old, cheekbones
& curling lips of the old, portraits of the dead &
the still struggle, the paint flies out of your brow
like wind, visions of you & your vivid
madness loom like genius out of your oil &
cry, See, is this not joyful. See, exalted.
See, I am brilliant & sad.

Autumn 2000(?) after Van Gogh portrait exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

this is an old one, & had much more interesting spacing, but bloggie doesn't like spacing.
c'est la.
for you, Vincent (cue Don McLean).

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