Purchase cataloguePainted with Words is a compelling look at Vincent van Gogh's correspondence to his young colleague Émile Bernard between 1887 and 1889. Van Gogh's words and sketches reveal his thoughts about art and life and communicate his groundbreaking work in Arles to his fellow painter.
Van Gogh's letters to Bernard reveal the tenor of their relationship. Van Gogh assumed the role of an older, wiser brother, offering praise or criticism of Bernard's paintings, drawings, and poems. At the same time the letters chronicle van Gogh's own struggles, as he reached his artistic maturity in isolation in Arles and St. Rémy. Throughout the letters are no less than twelve sketches by van Gogh meant to provide Bernard with an idea of his work in progress, including studies related to the paintings The Langlois Bridge, Houses at Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, Boats on the beach at Saintes-Maries, The Sower, and View of Arles at Sunset.
The translations used in this presentation are from the catalogue for the exhibition: Vincent van Gogh
Painted with Words, The Letters to Émile Bernard and are reproduced by kind permission of the Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam.
Major support for Painted with Words: Vincent van Gogh's Letters to Émile Bernard and its accompanying catalogue was provided by the International Music and Art Foundation. Generous support was also provided by the Robert Lehman Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts.
Vincent van Gogh, letter to Émile Bernard, Arles, 5 October 1888, Letter 19, page 3
If Laval, Moret and the other one agree to make exchanges with me, perfect, but on my side I
would be especially satisfied if they wanted to do their portraits for me.
You know, Bernard, it always seems to me that if I want to do studies of brothels, I'd need more
money than I have; I'm not young or womanizer enough for them to pose for me for free. And
I can't work without a model. I'm not saying that I don't flatly turn my back on reality to turn a
study into a painting—by arranging the color, by enlarging, by simplifying—but I have such a fear
of separating myself from what's possible and what's right as far as form is concerned.
Later, after another ten years of studies, I'm not saying so, but in very truth I have so much
curiosity for what's possible and what really exists that I have so little desire or courage to search
for the ideal, in so far as it could result from my abstract studies.
Others may have more clarity of mind than I for abstract studies—and you might certainly be
among them, as well as Gauguin and perhaps myself when I'm old.
But in the meantime I'm still living off the real world. I exaggerate, I sometimes make changes
to the subject, but still I don't invent the whole of the painting; on the contrary, I find it readymade—
but to be untangled—in the real world.