photography by Shannon O'Neil

I jumped – high and far, and twirling.

Vincent’s Yellow opened in Chicago, IL last Thursday, on the 120th anniversary of Vincent van Gogh’s death.

I performed — my cast and I performed — this thing that has been so intimately tucked between my blood vessels, that has been continuously beating quietly alongside my heart for three years, whether or not anyone heard it. This project, this man who saved me from beyond the grave, who changed my life so significantly I turned my own life upside down for him, for whom I made personal and financial sacrifices… but who has always guided me truly, and rightly. (That is, right back to doing what I was meant to do, and thus myself.)

photography by Shannon O'Neil

Performing in this work is as natural as breathing… or perhaps climbing a mountain is a better metaphor (or I suppose a high dive was the original metaphor I chose). It is not easy, it is exhausting and utterly challenging; it is two hours filled with wonder and vitality. It is a constant, driven force, focused by fierce passion and precision. I have used (I believe) every talent I have to make this show what it is, and I have demanded no less than real Truth, real Beauty, and total commitment.

photography by Shannon O'Neil

The piece is also highly demanding of my actors. Yet my wonderful, amazing ensemble meets the challenges I set them with incredible grace and perseverance. They impress me constantly, bringing 19th century words to vibrating life, becoming paint through dance, and making sweet music and even sweeter love for those that have come to visit.

Opening weekend was a waterfall. I will be chewing over the past week for a long time to come. A critic came opening night and told me she was dazzled. I’ll leave the rest of what she told me for her to put in her review, but needless to say, I was very, very pleased. I have gotten a few responses to my show that were overflowing with gratitude.

I, for one, feel most grateful to have this opportunity, to truly show what I have to give, and to sing and dance and breathe and speak to Vincent for the rest of this month. Last year at this time, I was packing my bags for my YellowEurope trip, for Amsterdam, and for all the rest that would await me (all I could never have imagined). I would spend a month tracking you, Vincent. Now I get to spend a month loving you. Completely and utterly.

This is all I can truly grasp right now. Until soon, readers…

Don’t forget to buy your tickets if you can attend; I have a feeling once the review comes out tickets may begin disappearing quickly…

I will end with a quote of his to which I keep returning:

Thus about my work, thus about my person.
– Vincent van Gogh, August 18, 1885

I couldn’t agree more.

Church at Auvers, 1890.

Mademoiselle Gachet in the Garden, 1890.

Tree trunks in the grass, 1890.

Vincent’s time in Auvers-sur-Oise was a period of most passionate productivity, it is one of the most incredible outpourings of all Art History. Were you trying to cure yourself with painting, Vincent, which you said calmed your mind? Or were you trying to prove something before you finally gave up on this world? I’m not sure I’ll ever have a satisfactory answer…

What I do know is that I unwittingly share this time with you. I am about to embark on a period of intense productivity myself – teaching theater to children all day and rehearsing at night – understanding my craft from every possible angle and, I’m sure, learning many new things. My choreographer said to me the other day, “so the whole play is like one big crescendo, right?” I agreed heartily with her. It is also what the making of this play will be from now until opening night.

Unwittingly, I arranged my rehearsal period to begin and end within the same dates as your seventy days. Your first letter from Auvers is dated May 20th, my first rehearsal, 120 years later, was May 22nd. And opening night is the anniversary of your death, when your soul finally left its body…

But my, how you linger in so many other forms. I never can get over how you keep popping up everywhere.

All my love to you today, readers. May you feel as cosmically entwined as I do, for as Vincent wrote July 10, 1888:

That rakes up the eternal question: is life visible to us in its entirety, or before we die do we know of only one hemisphere?

Painters — to speak only of them — being dead and buried, speak to a following generation or to several following generations through their works. Is that all, or is there more, even? In the life of the painter, death may perhaps not be the most difficult thing.

Can it be possible to feel down, depressed, when one is finally realizing so many dreams, when one is doing Great Things, by one’s own definition? Oh, yes. (I am resisting bemoaning the position of an artist – misunderstood, lonely, no money, blah blah blah!)

I just try to play some good music, and remind myself that there’s no other path now anyway. From here, it leads straight to Vincent.

I suppose part of my feeling down has to do with my research this past week of the last 70 days or so of Vincent’s life. I was looking in his letters for an answer to a particular question, but it also required me to face The End. And as I found out at his grave in Auvers-sur-Oise, it’s not easy for me to think about his death for an extended period of time. I have no doubt his death was his release, but I can’t help wishing it had been different.

I never mentioned this before, but I took a little rock from the field where Vincent is supposed to have shot himself. I had to bring something home with me, right? It’s with me everyday, in my coin purse. I like that.

I like having a little something. I took that and the strand of wheat that’s on my business card.

In the news of things I’ve accomplished (let’s be happy!), I did indeed do my Twitter Performance this past Saturday as planned, and in case you missed it, I recommend clicking here. You have to read from the bottom up, cause that’s how Twitter rolls, and click for “more” twice to start from the beginning of the conversation. Here is the beginning, to spark your curiousity (read from the bottom up!). It started with his daily quote:

So that was pretty awesome. First time I’ve ever done anything like that, and I think it does give the outsider a good taste for what the final performance will be like. At least in Twitter terms. :)

Also — this week is CALLBACKS. Which means that the next time I post here, I may very well have my cast set. Isn’t that just CRAZY!? Despite my perhaps sullen mood, I must admit I am extremely excited to get to know these actors who are interested in the project, and see what they can do. It will also be the first time I will hear my words aloud. And that’s pretty sweet.

So onward and upward. In the meantime, here’s a pretty cool video a friend of the project sent me. I think it gives you a good idea of what Vincent really looked like…

love!

Van Gogh from Philip Scott Johnson on Vimeo.