
Crazy.
Crazy for love.
Crazy for color.
Crazy to create.
Driven by a need so fundamental. Even after all the failures. After all the rejections. Only selling one painting in his lifetime. Painting this world, not as he would have it, but as it is, full of vibrance and life and beauty.
Self-taught, creating like no one before or since. Showing the divine in things as mundane as a chair or room. Rain, wind, snow, shine, he painted.
The courage to live his life the way he knew it must be lived, despite losing everything and everyone in it.
Not too beautiful for this world, but the fullness of the beauty of this world and the next.
On his birthday, we are reminded that for some of us, our art (whatever that may be) is not a pastime, not a hobby, not a leisure activity.
For some, our art is necessary, essential. We create because we must.
The ultimate amateur, and yet a pure genius.
Happy 151st Vincent.

