by Vincent van Gogh
Dutch, lived 1853-1890
The Olive Trees, 1889
Oil on canvas
The Museum of Modern Art, New York
The first time I saw a Van Gogh painting, I was moved to tears. At the time I was living in Moscow, Russia. It was the first time I had been submersed in a such a different culture than my own. The group I was with had taken a trip to St. Petersburg and visited the Hermitage. Among many other incredible, profound, and memorable pieces of work, there was Van Gogh, framed in gold, centered on a clean white wall, illuminated just so. It was the piece entitled Memories of the Garden at Etten (Ladies of Arles) the brush strokes, thick, motioning one direction and the next, the sections where layers of color covered up previous paintings. My eyes even teased me just so, to claim a sighting of the mans thumb print. Since, every chance introduction to one of Vincent’s pieces, has resonated within me so deeply, I can’t think of his work with out a salt water droplet forming in my eye.
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