Van Gogh visits Brooklyn-Pen and Ink, wash

You dear friend, you. And fabulous magician with the camera. Thanks Sande, for all these fine thoughts. The very idea of VanGogh gives me courage, for what he managed under duress, for his lack of encouragement and bravery in the face of it, for following his star.

Me too, Simon. And this brave departure from the traditionalists whose magnificent work drew emotions to things and people greater than themselves, Gods and legends; art meant to keep people in line, to inspire humility. By the 19th Century everyone was ready to thump their chests and cry out, What about ME!

Yes, Pernod on hand for all and any occasion. Both ears intact; turns out all he really needed was a respite out of town, very calm.
Thanks, billyboy. I couldn’t stop laughing and smiling when I was doing it; though serious in a way and an honor, I was tickled pink to have invited him over to my place.

Thanks, David. Yes, wonderful work, and very stirring to stand in front of the actual canvases.

my Prairie mutal fan club. Thanks so very much, you enthusiastic pleasure with life and all things in it is always a delight. That I’m included in the mix is always thrilling for me.

Thank you Heather!

Dear Ulrikeart, it’s there. Fantasy has no bounds, invite him over.
Thanks for liking it, hope it stirs you to visits of your own.

Aren’t you fun! What a great idea, Nik, you’re making me think about this. Many thanks for your suggestion. What a great idea.

Thank you, Geno! Proud you liked this.

How interesting (and sweet) of you to say…tell me what you mean. Glad for the brain commotion, whatever produced it! I always love hearing from you, Louise.

That’s so interesting, I think you’ve just unveiled for me the source of my ever and constant love of biographies. I love reading what my heroes have gone through in their lives, especially the ones who kept going under great odds. It makes me feel less alone. I’ve read many wonderful biographies of Rodin. He was forced out of France to earn even pitiful money during the war and got work on a cathedral, sending pennies home and begging his mistress to attend to the unfinished clays in his studio, which happened to be an open unheated stable. France gets cold. I too have wintered in unheated studios, glad for the space and brush and oils and ignoring the lack of comforts. Sometimes remembering these things now make me weep, as life has changed. I’m even living in a house with thermostats! But I will never forget reading Rodin’s own dismissive words when asked about his early days, and he said, “The usual hardships…” and that was it. Yes, that was then and this is now. And getting to the now forms us, does it not. And makes us grateful. I did this drawing I am sure for the companionship of an artist whose perserverance was as fiery and ferocious as a meteor burning through a galaxy. And I understand that if another human being did that, so can I.

I thank you, mikej! And Vincent (I’m sure) thanks you, too. It was an incredible day.

Many thanks, Joe. It’s funny, I drew it trying to figure on what he’d approve of.

Thank you Paul. He would have LOVED Brooklyn, I’m sure of it. And vice-versa.

Oh Cathleen! Coming from an artist I could not possibly admire more than I already do (although you’re more fabulous with each posting) I’m honored. Your portraits are deeply wonderful, filled with lives behind those faces. A great acomplishment.

That’s fabulous, ocula. A time and space traveler, the patron saint of struggling artists. I hope at least in some after-life Van Gogh realizes his impact. Yes, we all need such whisperings for courage, delighted he has been at your ear and elbow.
Not Gauguin, a portrait I kept with me for decades and sold about ten years ago. But since this observation from you makes the drawing even more delish, I may start lying about it.
Of course, Paul G!! Another hero. Who died in poverty and illness, and whispers, too.

Thank you, capecodart. The visit was fabuloso.