I have felt many things over the past few weeks, and it’s made it difficult to clear my head enough to speak clearly here. I regret if my straying has made your curiosity wane (almost a rhyme there), it was not intentional. The other problem has been that my mother and I were commissioned to write a new project – a musical telling the history of flamenco – and not only was I not ready to start a new project, I never finished digesting the end of this one.

photography by Shannon O'Neil

To do Vincent’s Yellow, to offer up such intimate, deep matters for the eyes of all, one must create a wound. After exposing myself like this over and over, my desire is usually to heal, to curl up and – in brief – not to be on display anymore. For the sake of posting on this website, that side effect of performance was not helpful.

I also was distracted by the attention: negative attention that made me question the quality of my work (and my self-image as artist), positive attention that encouraged an encore – to tour, to restage, to re-do. But after much thought, I see I am not ready for this. In fact, I don’t truly *desire* to perform Vincent’s Yellow in the near future. I have been encouraged by many to do so, I have been offered opportunities that make me feel like a fool for rejecting. But my spirit calls – like a distant siren – for my book. I have the building blocks for it strewn all around me. It was always my plan to mount the play, then write the book.

I know I will perform Vincent’s Yellow again. And it will be even better then, more complete after my full journey.

photography by Shannon O'Neil

The truth is, I was always closest to him on the page…

Vincent has not left my side. He encourages me onward, reminds me to listen to my heart, he remains my mentor. He continues to whisper great wisdom all the time through the quotes from his letters I continue to post on facebook and twitter, whenever I can remember… On my desk now, in front of my keyboard lays a note card with words of his I am considering painting large, on my wall:

The weathercocks don’t make the wind east or north, any more than opinions make the truth true.

–Vincent 4 January 1884

I know, deep down, my show was more ritual than story. It showed, to a degree, what all this has been for me, but not all that will be in the book. The book will be more. The book will be travelogue, scrapbook, journal, letter… The book will be all.

I want you to know, Reader, that I have already chosen how I will mark the moment when I am finally done creating at the feet of Vincent van Gogh. I will get a tattoo of his work, a drawing of his cypresses (the painting that I have undoubtedly spent the most time staring at, sighing in front of).

thanks to vangoghletters.org

The tree will begin at my right heel, and swirl up the back of my calf. His signature will be put, simply, along the outside edge of my foot. It will be him with me always, it will be tying my bones to nature (the nature he taught me to recognize that I’ve always seen), and it will make me a tree walking. I do this for him, for me, and because my plan is to grow ever higher, to reach my roots down ever deeper, and to blossom for decades.

That is what Vincent taught me to do.

I thank you deeply for reading, and I promise there’s more to come very soon.

[production photos from Vincent's Yellow, as seen above, are available for viewing in the new Production Photos gallery!]

~

Van Gogh’s Popcorn (aka social riffing on VG — a new section!)

Elizabeth Taylor gets to keep her Van Gogh painting despite a controversy over its Nazi confiscation

thanks to dailymail.co.uk

A Starry Night Themed Wedding (an idea brought to my attention by Michelle‘s comment on the last post, thank you!)

thanks to junebugweddings.com

A Starry Night Hall

thanks to http://community.apartmenttherapy.com

In case you wonder why I care about these things, I see them as proof of the reach of Vincent’s influence. I know he would be confused and astonished by them… These events and images remind me of the power one artist can have, if she or he works honestly and beautifully enough.

My brain has been a blizzard for a year. The debris is only now just settling down. I need to sleep a lot these days — I suppose to compensate for all the sleeping I didn’t do this summer. I digest my memories. The dream came to its natural end, but I was and still am awake. Vincent lingers like a scent.

It’s been a month since the only Van Gogh painting on public display in all of the continent of Africa (something that has been quite clear to me ever since making my map of the locations of Vincent’s paintings) was stolen.

It was cut out of its frame and I imagine tucked under someone’s coat  - maybe one half of the “italian couple” from whom they claimed to have recovered the painting at the Cario International Airport, and then said they were mistaken - or perhaps it was Carmen Sandiego in her red coat (oh, I always wanted to grow up to be exactly like her)!

Thanks to artobserved.com

Amazingly, this is the second time this very painting was stolen from this museum, which brought to light how lax the Cairo security has been in its museums for some time. The people in charge in Cairo said they would amend such problems as only 7 of 43 security cameras actually functioned.

I smiled when reading all this, and decided to wait a month before I moved the sticker or wrote anything. I smiled because this is so Van Gogh. Needless to say, the 296 colored spot that marks this painting will have to be moved from Cairo and placed under “Whereabouts Unknown”.  The last time the painting was stolen, it took ten years to recover. Any bets for this time? Ah, we’ll see. At least it’s one of his lesser paintings.

Would you steal a Van Gogh painting?

As long as I knew I wouldn’t be caught, I totally would! I wouldn’t keep it forever, but… even just one year with one of Vincent’s paintings in my home would be an experience I would never, ever forget. And I think the world could wait a year.

In the meantime, I wanted to bring your attention to some of the more innovative Van Gogh developments I’ve encountered.

I’ve had at least three different people forward me this link to tilt-perspective interpretations of Vincent’s paintings. Here’s an example:

Thanks to artcyclopedia.com

So immersive! Click on the link above to see more, they are pretty awesome.

And also, look at this incredibly creative and thoughtful animated video showing time passing in Vincent’s Bedroom — using bits and pieces from his other paintings (Starry Night in the window, a self-portrait in the mirror).

Lastly, the Vincent necklace I’ve been wearing for nearly two years has broken three times in one month. I have to get a new chain now. At first, all this made me feel a bit uneasy. Am I holding onto something that needs to be let go? Am I forcing something? Does Vincent want to get away?

The reality is that this is at least partly due to my wearing one necklace non-stop for over a year, but (and I only figured this out just now) also because it’s time for renewal. We are moving now from play to book. Time to get a new chain.

Oh, and did I mention the painting clips inside got water damaged mysteriously during the run of the show?

I don’t know when it happened. But it makes them look old. I like that.

I’ve always thought my play about Vincent and I would be a perfect summer show: it’s uplifting, it will be beautiful (and about beauty), and lastly, I’d love to be able to step outside with my audience during the show, letting the fresh air into our lungs and gazing at the stars in wonder — imagining and, indeed, conceiving what it was that Vincent saw in them. I want to look at real stars and speak his words, if possible. And since I’m putting it up in Chicago, that means it’s got to be the summer.

So then, this past July when I started this website, I had already started my quotes project and so I became aware of the anniversary of Vincent’s death (July 29th)  and it happened to be the day of my first entry. I think it was around then that I realized I wanted my show to also open on July 29th. Then a series of ideas flooded my brain: my birthday is August 31st, so if the show closed that day it’d have a nice five weekend run, which is plenty of time for the word to spread and to have reviewers come and actually review it. (For those of you not in the theater business, most shows by young theater makers only run for about a week, which in a way, is like shooting yourself in the foot. A great start, but you can’t really get enough attention. And besides, since I’ve been working on this for over two years and moved to Chicago to make it happen, and have in every other way put all my eggs in this one very yellow basket, why not go all the way?)

So then it became TRUTH: Vincent’s Yellow will be running in Chicago July 29th – August 31st 2010! (yes, I know the closing is a Tuesday, it’ll be a special evening followed by a birthday party for me)

2010 is also nice because then it’s been 120 years since Vincent’s death. It’s not quite as cool the centennial of his death, 1990 (note the millions of projects and retrospectives that were dated for that year… okay not millions but you get the idea), but it’s pretty awesome from where I’m sitting. The show starts with his end, and ends with my beginning. Sounds perfect to me. (Did I mention I will be turning 25 years old?)

So this past week I’ve been working a lot on the play, and I plan on typing up all the last revisions to finish off my first full draft today (super exciting! and I met my self-imposed deadline!). Which means, this evening, I will have ONE document that is my play. This is very amazing, because the building blocks are scenes I have been writing entirely separate from one another over the past two years.

So now where has the plan taken me? I have arrived at the fact that I have an enormous show to put up and a lot of work to do in the next six months. If the show opens at the end of July, I want to start rehearsing at the end of May, which means I need to do auditions in April, which means the script MUST be done by then. But that part is easier. What’s more complicated is that, as a friend called to my attention this morning,  I need to get a creative team together asap and I need to start hunting for my perfect performance space.

I am very excited, slightly overwhelmed, and most importantly, I am inviting you, yes you, where ever you are right now, to my show. It wouldn’t be the same without you.

Now, I don’t normally think one theatrical experience is worth flying to a city to see, whether it’s my work, or anyone else’s, but I have been fighting and will continue to fight to make this show the absolute pinnacle of everything I believe in, to make it a theatrical experience that cannot be had, seen, tasted or felt anywhere else, to make it the most perfectly tuned expression of everything Vincent has taught me, to make it a gift that you will take home with you in your heart, in your gut, and in your mind. I am aiming to give you everything, personally, from my hands to yours.

Plus, Chicago is awfully beautiful in the summer! :)

Image courtesy of chicagophotos.blogspot.com

So I’ve planted the idea in your head: come to Chicago in August for Beauty. Roll it around in your mouth, fiddle with it between your fingertips. I’ll be returning to this in later entries.

In the meantime, it’s time for me to get back to work! But I will leave you with a little Vincent before I go.

Vincent often imagined himself as a worker similar to a farmer, a sower or a reaper, as yet another common man who slaved outdoors all day. The farmer’s work was taxing, but very important. So Vincent worked with the same unwavering strength and determination.

His admiration also drove him to paint them.

Image courtesy of vangoghletters.org

First and foremost, when I’ll be able to pay more for models, and female models too, I’ll make further progress; I feel it and I know it. And I’ll probably also succeed in being able to do portraits. But that depends on working hard; not a day without a line, as Gavarni used to say. (January 1881 to Theo)

Not a day without a line, my friends. Until next week.