The path from the room where you died to your tomb is the same walk the few people present for your funeral made. Since Auvers-sur-oise sits on the side of a hill, it is an uphill walk. Only six people were present that day – Theo and friends who all loved you fiercely – and who were all devastated by their lonely task. It was a very hot day in July 1890, and in August 2009 I let the heat fill my body, and imagined the weight of your casket.

We climbed past the church you painted, past the church that would hold no funeral for you since you were a suicide. We went up past all the houses, and suddenly found ourselves on an incredible plateau –

I recognized the wide expanse from your last paintings here, of fields going on forever and ever…

I spotted the gate to your cemetery. I began to feel a bit dizzy. Both my desire and my fear of entering was overwhelming. Your bones are there. The headstones I had seen in photos a dozen times. Both you and Theo.

Reader, I cannot tell you precisely what transpired inside these gates. Once faced with his grave, I realized how alive he is for me… I was struck down with enormous grief. I had so many thanks to give him, and so many apologies on behalf of all who turned him away. I took no photos, but I will tell you that green, green vines thrive in a bed over his grave – planted there by Dr. Gachet. I was happy to know that nature continues to thrive in your presence, Vincent; you have become its sustenance, as it once was for you.

Eventually, I had to force myself to leave. Once I had knelt at your feet, the idea of leaving seemed quite absurd. I could not leave Auvers. Not yet.

There were a few benches in the shade by the church, and I sat there, finally letting my emotions run their course. I knew I did not sit alone. After a long time, I considered perhaps it was finally time to leave.

However, a distant sliver of twilight beckoned me back towards the front of the church, close to the road to the cemetery. Once I got closer (to take a better photo), I saw something I had noticed on the way to the cemetery, but ignored:

Bathed in sunlight, a tunnel of green darkness leading… to light. I immediately decided to take a video of the walk, so I could remember, so you could remember, so you – Reader – could feel and see…  The video is a bit lengthy, but I think it’s worth it.

I did not know there was another sign of your painting left in town. I did not know that these would be the wheat fields where you shot yourself. But of course, of course. And to think I almost left town without coming here.

You would have liked to die here, among the wheat you felt you sowed and reaped, surrounded by nothing but nature.

And new wheat grows, new wheat grows.

Thank you for bringing me here, Vincent.

Now, to Nuenen.

The Van Gogh Documentatiecentrum. (Documentation center) It used to be a weaving house (1837) which is quite appropriate given Vincent’s love of weavers.

Vincent’s father’s church. A place he painted, a place he occupied often, a place he resisted.

Nuenen in the rain… At this point, it was raining so hard, my photos came out quite blurry. I translated this into the soft glow you’ll see in the next few photos… So I’m not just romanticizing things! ;)

This is the house inside of which Vincent painted his studies for The Potato Eaters, his first masterpiece.

For those who remember the post I made on this day, I spoke of a muddy back road often traveled by Vincent: this is it. I also spoke of four horses who stared at me, ran swiftly away, and then turned around, as if waiting for me to follow…

I still feel it was Vincent.

This flour mill was built in 1884, the first year Vincent van Gogh lived in Nuenen. It is featured in several of his drawings. It is of the moment.

This local church I believe is the one that caused Vincent some trouble (as there is no other in town I could see): The priest here often interfered with Vincent’s work, obsessed with the idea that his mixing with the lower classes (read: his models) was dangerous. At one point, the priest even offered money to the townspeople to not pose for him.

(cough cough bastard cough cough)

This is the old parsonage where Vincent lived with his parents.  In the next post, I’ll share my photos from the back where you can see his studio area, and the door I imagine he used often to avoid his family. (just a guess! they didn’t get along very well)

This monument to Vincent was built in 1932 by Hildo Krop. It was the  first monument erected for Van Gogh in the Netherlands. I think it’s positively perfect. The sun is about hand-sized.

It felt like the sun, and it felt like your heart.

But for now, I wanted to show you the church at Auvers-sur-Oise, because it seriously might be my favorite place of worship in the world. Last week, I saw the painting first, at Musee d’Orsay. I can’t possibly capture this radiant blue, but here maybe you can catch a few of the details, and what an incredible painting it is. Very interesting is the length of the church’s shadow in contrast to the sky – it leaves the time of day a bit “flexible”…

Although I still think it was probably done midday, and the sky was just too brilliant to ignore.

I love the detail of this figure, making the church the every day building it is.

The following day, I was lucky enough to see the real thing, and it took my breath away.

They are doing work to restore it, obviously, but this is the angle from which he painted it. They have signs all over Auvers marking where and what he painted…

It was in Auvers where Vincent lived out the last 70 days of his life, creating over 70 paintings during those days. At the end, he shot himself in the chest, in a nearby field of wheat. Unfortunately, he missed his heart, and it took him a day and a half to die. He passed this church on his way to the fields, on his way stumbling back into town, and then in his coffin on the way to his grave.

At the cemetery, I was devastated. I have made you so alive, so a part of my life, Vincent, that I was stunned by your grave. It was the loss of a loved one. I could not leave right away nor could I stay in the cemetery, so I went and sat alongside the church and cried for some time. The exquisite light of dusk kept me company, and the cool breeze wrapped around me in an embrace.

Thank you. I needed that.