It started with a desire for fabric to fall, and for it to give me yellow silhouettes. It was sparked by ideas of creation and procreation. This set piece had to contain the time I thought maybe I met Vincent, that maybe he was with me. That moment of perfect union of course changed everything – in my play, a new character was created. She was born, she was my imagination, and she parted with known facts and I knew that. But she allowed me to imagine his smile.

Now staging this (pro)creation is tricky. In my head it necessitated a yellow tent that would allow me to cast silhouettes, that would then transform into a canopy that revealed the true action – that I was not kissing Vincent at all, it was my imaginary him.

I wanted silhouettes from inside a tent-like structure, then the fabric was to be raised into a canopy position. Inside the tent had to be enough room to dance. That my original plans looked at all like a flower truly did not dawn on me. All I knew was that I wanted the space itself to blossom into impressionism and color as Vincent did about half-way through his career. From colorless to colorful.

I also wanted christmas lights as stars towards the end of the play. What ended up occurring (design and construction developed by myself as well as Shannon O’Neil, Timothy Caldwell & Amy Buckler) was something truly marvelous that is now a piece of art in my apartment.

The center circle of midnight blue speckled with christmas lights is six feet in diameter, with four long yellow chiffon petals at about ten feet. For most of the play, the lights were not on, and a yellow sunflower layer with smaller petals covered the night stars from view.

For months my boyfriend and I have been plotting how we can pack it up, but we’ve never desired to pack it up, and now when we finally move out of the space in three weeks, we are going to bring the sunflower to hang it up in our new apartment. It is simply too beautiful and awesome to put in storage.

Photography by Timothy Caldwell

I never dreamt that I would be left with such an incredible art piece to live with forever, that I might always be able to see stars in my apartment, no matter the weather. In my apartment we often shout — let’s turn on the stars! It’s awfully fun to say.

I realize now that it is the gift that Vincent gave back to me. I gave him a play, my heart, and my life for a few years… and he gave me stars forever.

Photography by Timothy Caldwell

But the commodification, the misinterpretation, the drama, the mythology of Van Gogh is all important, and I have eventually come to embrace it. For Vincent van Gogh created one enormous thing without a drop of intention, and that is his Myth. Van Gogh is perhaps a name with as many resonances as Ghandi, probably less than Hitler, but certainly more than FDR or Genghis Khan (and I refer to the resonances with the general population… I finally met someone who did not know who Vincent van Gogh was this past week and it about knocked my socks off). What Vincent did is in no way comparable to what these other men did, but his actions, his life, his influence has reached far and wide like a pebble’s ripple in a pool. Except that those ripples gained a force of their own, and continue to roar across cultural oceans.

What I love to look at now are the many iterations, the many re-fashionings and re-imaginings of Vincent/Van Go, and smile at the infinitely deep well of inspiration this man has become. He has become much greater than he ever could have imagined – he is sometimes so immense I wonder if I will ever know him all. As I once wrote in my journal: His life was the birth of a universe in an egg shell. I still believe that whole heartedly.

From Halloween costumes (this one is particularly well done)

Thanks to wtfcostumes.com

to NASA comparing the illumination of interstellar dust around this star to one of his paintings

Thanks to hubblesite.org

to hotel suites modeled after his paintings

Thanks to design.nl

to credit cards

Thanks to tagesanzeiger.ch

to shoes with quotes from his letters on them,

and cartoons,

Thanks to neatorama.com and bizzaro.com

and dolls with removable ears

Thanks to philosophersguild.com

or removable heads

Thanks to baronbob.com

to books (an Amazon search reveals almost 2,000) and movies (Amazon shows 22 results for movies and television, but I’m sure there are more out there that one cannot buy) and short films ranging from the more realist Vincent’s Final Moments to the surrealist Vincent and Absinthe

to the iPhone application Yours, Vincent which puts his letters and sketches at your fingertips

Thanks to iphonespies.com

to University investigations into which star Vincent painted in The White House at Night, 1890

Thanks to hermitagemuseum.org

(it was Venus, and it was precisely in that spot the night he painted it, by the way)

to songs, both the lesser known and the famous –

It becomes irrefutable that Vincent is a universe, a mountain worth climbing and full of ever-branching caverns. I am lucky enough to consider myself an explorer of all things that trace their root to him. The portrayals of this man and his work in all its iterations are not necessarily historically accurate, but they reflect what Vincent van Gogh truly means to those that reflect him back at the world and inevitably spread his words, his paintings, his life to those that did not know him at all.

In this way, Vincent van Gogh is still very much alive to me. He is an idea, a spirit that is still developing, still changing, still reaching out…

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.