It has been too long. I wanted this entry to tell you that I have scans of all my writing about Vincent in my hands, that the truly creative work has begun. Unfortunately, my patience has been tested these past two months in the scanning of hundreds of documents, the resizing and cropping, the two printing companies that said they would not print my project, and the three rounds of reformatting as each company has their way of doing things.  A week ago I thought I would have to rescan every document;  I felt a kind of mental claustrophobia that I can’t remember ever feeling before. I finally settled on ordering about half my scans, and fixing the images and re-ordering as necessary.

I so desperately want to get to the meat of things, but the grunt work must come first. Only today I remembered Vincent’s frustration during the early years of his career as an artist, when he was mostly teaching himself (with a few mentors here and there) how to draw and paint… It continues to be so very remarkable to me how our thoughts mirror each other from over a century away.

But then I loathe myself so much for not being able to do what I’d like, and at such moments one feels as though one is bound hand and foot, lying in a deep, dark pit, powerless to do anything. Now it’s over, inasmuch as I got up last night and pottered around a bit, putting one thing and another in order… (26 January 1882 to Theo)

Yes. These are the highs and lows of creativity — confidence and passion sometimes drives you to utter despair when things won’t work. I’ve begun to recognize my own phases now, which helps even them out. But now, I’d like to share a little something from the book with you.

Three pieces of paper reappeared in my life after an over two-year state of tucked-away-ness in a plastic bag with all the museum maps, tickets, and other paraphernalia I collected in YellowEurope.

But these words were written before that trip: the night before I reached Chicago, the day I left New York City for Vincent. New York had taught me more than I ever imagined, but to start my own theatre company, to produce my own work, I knew it was too rich for my meager wages. I left many things I adored behind, including my financial independence, to come to Chicago, live with my parents for a year and make Vincent’s Yellow happen. That is what I mean when I write to Vincent that I left New York City for him.

I hadn’t read these words of transition since I wrote them. When I read them aloud a few weeks ago, I began to cry. Not because of the memories – I hadn’t actually read the letter yet! I cried because even then I did not realize I was in Holland.

It was Holland, Ohio, yes — not Amsterdam where I would arrive five weeks later — but Vincent was already with me. Could Holland be a state of mind? I’ll be meditating on that. Here’s taste number two of my book.

My goal is to have put the first chapter together by the end of the year. My plan is to start publishing the book online for free for a limited time, if possible, while I’m pursuing book publishers. I’m toying with the idea of transforming this website into the book itself. If online, the book will be released in segments, in the style of Dickens. If you are reading this now, I hope you will also enjoy reading the book for free within the next year!

~~~~~~~VAN GOGH POPCORN~~~~~~~

If you haven’t heard about the new biography Van Gogh: The Life, you’ve probably been living under a rock. It introduces a new theory that Vincent did not shoot himself at all, but that some mischievous boys in Auvers shot him accidentally, and that Vincent (already feeling a burden on his brother with a new family) took responsibility for the actions instead of ruining one or more of those young mens’ lives by pointing a finger.

This theory sounds quite possible to me (without having read the book yet), the motivations fit more with Vincent’s personality… However, it seems to me that the fact remains that we will never have any conclusive evidence. Once I read through the theory, perhaps I will find it to be most likely.

The truth is… we’ll never know for certain. The gun was never found. But I certainly enjoy this alternative ending, and the questioning of his death.

Perhaps this new theory will mean Van Gogh will no longer be so defined by his suicide?

One can hope.

~~~~~~UPDATE 11/16/11~~~~~~

Scans of my journal entries about Vincent are in my hands!

The time to edit has begun.

251 pages of my writing…

Creativity engine — GO!

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.

I am back in the country. Vacation is over.

Vincent’s Yellow is CAST.

Let me say that again and allow myself to celebrate one last time before the onslaught of everything else I have to do drowns out the sound.

I HAVE ACTORS! YIPPEEE!

It also looks like I have a co-choreographer, a props master, a media director, a technical director/co-costume designer, and a stage manager along with my lovely co-director. I know, it’s craziness. It’s good though, because let’s face it — as much as I’d like to do everything on this show myself, I need help. I wish I were a giant octopus who could design, direct, act, choreograph, produce, and make re-writes simultaneously (and still have one hand  free to make a living and put food into my mouth), but alas, alack, I am a terrestrial mammal with two arms. But let’s face it. It’d be hard to produce Vincent’s Yellow under water. And the good news is I’ve got a lot of  hands on deck now. Which is good cause this is a Big Boat.

I also heard the script aloud for the first time in our first rehearsal last night. (Also a Yippeee moment) So this is the first time in my life that I’ve sat down and written a script all by myself, and then heard it read aloud by actors. As a writer, it was indeed a bit more difficult than I anticipated (I already want to cut big chunks out of it, and will start doing so tonight), but it was also really awesome to discover new things about my story. Like, for instance — it’s got some laughs! I think my snarky sense of humor couldn’t help but pop in, but I was happy to hear some laughter from my cast.

Last thing I’m gonna tell you (later this week or maybe next week I’ll post the photos of my lovely actors) is that I bought a few things in Ecuador.

The first thing I was really looking for was just a huge amount of yellow fabric. I need it for…. you know. Well I can’t tell you! Come see the show if you want to know. It was really cheap in Ecuador so I got tons and tons.

I’m sure you understand that there was no other way to show it to you other than to put it on top of my head.

I got 35 meters. That’s about 120 feet. It’s very light-weight, translucent, and falls like a feather. It’s peeeerrrrrrty.

And, then there was one other thing I searched for…

Self-Portrait, 1887.

Thanks to vangoghgallery.com

And found…

teehee. I am pretty pleased with myself.

See you next week, fellow lovers!