les tournesols...he often,towards the end of his life,also used crows in his
paintings of fields...I chose to use both of these motifs on these pages... I
have followed in his footsteps in Provence,even visiting the asylum where he
spent much time. What a poor,miserable,tormented,prolific genius he was.
One of my favorite songs has always been Starry Starry Night,by Don McLean...not
everyone realizes that it was about VanGogh. Next time you hear it,pay close
attention to the words! or read the lyrics here ...you will be amazed! Many many lines are describing actual paintings that Van Gogh did.)
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Starry, starry night.Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.
Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.
Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.
For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you.
Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you've met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will...
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Last week,we had to use this quote by Oscar Wilde about color,then tell on a second page what inspires us in our art. I was honored that Ali chose to put this on the Home Page this week of the UK site!Thanks Ali!
