Secondly, I’d like to invite all of you to our fundraiser parties in Chicago! We have three super awesome nights planned all for your enjoyment, and money made at each event will help Vincent’s Yellow come to life.

Tuesday, JUNE 22nd at The Spot (4437 N. Broadway Avenue) at 7pm
Play TRIVIA! Win Money! Drink!
$5 entry

Thursday, JULY 1st at 63 East Lake Street (at Wabash) at 8pm
ROOFTOP EXTRAVAGANZA! Raffle! Jacuzzi! Great views of Chicago! Drinks! Sponsored by Magic Hat!
$10 entry, email me to get on the guest list

Thursday, JULY 14th at The Spot (4437 N. Broadway Avenue) at 8:30pm
Sing KARAOKE! Free drinks for an hour and a half!
$15 entry

Now, I don’t care if I hardly know you, I’d love to see you at any and all of these events. You can go out and drink anywhere, anytime, but why not support great art while doing so? I think there are pretty much no excuses. ;)If you do not live in Chicago, and cannot come to these parties, or — heaven forbid — cannot come to the show, I’d like to encourage you to make a donation to this project. I am self-producing Vincent’s Yellow, which means the whole budget (except for what I raise) is coming out of my own pocket. Your help, even if it’s $5, would mean the world to me. If you can’t come to the show, but wish you could, then why not donate the price of a ticket, $18? Every penny helps us buy costumes, paint, chairs, postcards… the list goes on and on.

Also, you’d be helping a project that I’m convinced has huge amounts of karma blessing it, and so that karma would also be spread to you. This I’m positive about. Press the donate button in the right-hand column of the webpage, it will allow you to donate through paypal.

Lastly, I wanted to share a little yoga with you all.  Yoga is a major part of our ensemble’s practice within rehearsal. It builds our strength, our flexibility, our stamina, and our team spirit. Enjoy the little video (also by Timothy Caldwell) and have a wonderful week!

Vincent, could you have imagined?

Thanks to heatherleys.blogspot.com

Self-Portrait, 1889

Thanks to vggallery.com

Self-Portrait (Dedicated to Paul Gauguin), 1888.

Thanks to vggallery.com

I was forwarded a link to this blog which explained the work:

When asked about this project [John] Dean explained he originally set out to make a single monochrome bust. He says he was intrigued by an enigmatic self-portrait painted in Arles in September 1888 which Vincent intended to send to Paul Gauguin. ‘Van Gogh’s distinctive draughtsmanship and his technique of applying thick pigment to the canvas was almost sculptural. The image seemed to be yearning to be liberated from the two dimensional surface restraining it. I wanted to find out what might happen if it were released’ said Dean.

Thanks to heatherleys.blogspot.com

Self-Portrait, 1888.

Thanks to vggallery.com

Self-Portrait with Grey Felt Hat, 1887-1888.

Thanks to vggallery.com

I have always found Vincent’s work sculptural, but these busts seem to heighten the intensity of his gaze — and certainly the fact that they are all life-sized would add a very unique element when standing in front of them. One of these busts has been incorporated into the London exhibit of his letters (click to see several wonderful scans of his letters, with sketches).

Thanks to heatherleys.blogspot.com

Self-Portrait with Straw Hat, 1887.

Thanks to vggallery.com

Self-Portrait with Bandaged Ear and Pipe, 1889.

Thanks to vggallery.com

Even the artist’s expression seems  to divulge a kind of joyous marveling at the outcome of his work, as though he could never have dreamed the power of what he produced. From the same blog:

Once the head was made however, Dean knew that to complete it he had to incorporate the artist’s brush strokes and the striking use of colour, including yellow, turquoise and purple, from the original portrait. ‘It is unusual for a sculpture to be painted as the effect is generally merely decorative. In this case though, I realised the colours and brushwork had to be included as they were integral and essential to the work.’

I thoroughly enjoy the translation of Vincent’s impasto, or thickly laid paint, into the textural surface of these busts. I’m also a little envious of the idea of molding his face, digging my fingers into the crevices of his brushwork, and feeling and re-creating his rhythm and his facial features with my hands. It would be very close to sensation of touching his face, or perhaps touching his dream of his face…

Seeing this work reminded me of a dance I choreographed over a year ago now – it was an early experiment that proved pretty successful. One of my greatest desires with my theater piece is to translate the passion of Vincent’s methods, the speed and depth of his brushwork, the daring of his colors, into movement. As John Dean said, Vincent’s paint and images almost burst out of their frames; I think what makes people fall for Vincent’s work is that they reach toward the viewer, as opposed to other paintings that invite the viewer to look in, as though through a window. Just as Dean sought to liberate the images from their two dimensions, I seek to launch them out of their impassivity.

So today, I offer a look at one of my early forays into dances for Vincent. Three women and I worked collaboratively for three hours, and created this piece. I stayed on the outside so I could shape it, but I will be performing in my own play this summer. It was inspired by the last ten paintings Vincent created.

Reader, Vincent… enjoy. :)

(Oh, and I finished my second draft of my play last friday! Woohoo!)

Walking among his olive trees.

The curtains on his bedroom window.

The reaper’s wheat field…

Now, if you’ll remember from the first entry about Saint Rémy, there were many signs in the area indicating where Vincent had walked and painted. One very special sign, however, promised the below painting was executed about an hour’s walk east of the asylum.

Wheatfield with Cypress, 1889

This particular painting is, without a doubt, one of my favorites, and since it sits neatly in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, where I lived for six years, I’ve seen it many times. I know its strokes, I know its brilliance and its spirit by heart.

However, my mother and I saw there was little time to walk there, so we drove twenty minutes at the end of the day, and then I walked onward for another fifteen or twenty. We were racing against the sun, but it slowly became clear to me as I walked that I was meant to be there at twilight.

I had no doubt that, sometime during the year you lived at Saint Paul, you walked this path. The olive trees and the cypresses, your constant muses and companions, smiled at me through the golden sunshine.

The path itself glowed, and I began to wonder how much emotion I could really take in one day…

My feet crunched into the gravel, the only prevailing sound besides what I thought must be cicadas… I passed probably one of the smallest stone shelters I’ve ever seen. A little cabin, perhaps? A resting spot? A studio? Either way, I yearned to enter it, to own it, to dream inside of it.

An enormous tree spread its incredible canopy over a small, wooden seat. I wished I could stay longer to write, to work across time and alongside you.

But time said we must return to Arles. It marked the beginning of the end of my trip. It was the last frontier, the last edge of the unknown. What I would give for another day there, simply to walk…

I took a deep breath, and turned around.

My mother and I got back into the car, headed back into the West, into the South, into Arles.

Your light stayed with us, even if only by bouncing off the sky, until we arrived safely at our hotel.