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, 30 July 1888, Letter 13, page 2
But if, for example, my opinion differed from yours on those subjects, I'm confident that you
would agree with me later. What grieves me at the Louvre is to see their Rembrandts getting spoiled
and the cretins in the administration damaging many beautiful paintings. Thus the annoying yellow
tonality of certain canvases by Rembrandt is an effect of deterioration through humidity or
other causes, instances of which I could point out to you.
As difficult to say what Rembrandt's color is as to give a name to the Velázquez grays; we could
say, for want of something better, "Rembrandt gold," and that's what we do, but that's quite vague.
Having come to France I have, perhaps better than many Frenchmen themselves, felt Delacroix
and Zola, for whom my sincere and frank admiration is boundless.
Since I had a fairly complete idea of Rembrandt. One, Delacroix, proceeds by way of colors,
the other, Rembrandt, by values, but they are on a par.
Zola and Balzac, as painters of a society, of reality as a whole, arouse rare artistic emotions in
those who love them, for the very reason that they embrace the whole epoch that they paint. When
Delacroix paints humanity, life in general instead of an epoch, he belongs to the same family of
universal geniuses all the same.
I love the closing words of Silvestre, I think it was, who ends a masterly article like this:
Thus died—almost smiling—Eugène Delacroix, a painter of high breeding—who had a sun
in his head and a thunderstorm in his heart—who went from warriors to saints—from saints to
lovers—from lovers to tigers—and from the tiger to flowers.
Daumier is also a really great genius.
Millet, another painter of an entire race and the settings in which it lives.