It was 2001. I was in class V. We had a drawing class. And surprisingly, it had some theory part. We hated it, obviously. Who wants to read boring stuff instead of painting in a drawing class? But, inside those boring texts, I met this man. The man who had a distinct style of painting even a 10 years old kid, with no knowledge about art could understand. The man so crazy that he shaved (really?!! Shaved? Who all write in the Internet?) his own ear off. Van Gogh. Vincent Van Gogh was that rock star of art to me at that time. The artist who suffered from depression, mental issues, and produced brilliant paintings (obviously artists can’t have a normal life with wife and kids, they’ll become ‘us’ then).
The best part of Van Gogh’s painting (to the 10 years old me) was that they were extremely simple. They didn’t have any hidden meaning, any message, any ism (a certain Mr. Picasso was part of the curriculum as well). It was just a picture, a picture at which you can look (Impressionist was still an unknown word to me). Well, I took the simplicity otherwise. I tried to copy his style. Sounds hilarious? What’s so difficult in there? All you have to do is make spirals, a lot of them, and use contrasting colours. Failed! I failed, that too miserably. It was more unimpressive than listening to your own recorded voice. Thus, I surrendered. Suddenly I was sympathetic, very much sympathetic to him. Although I could not understand the psycho-neuro-traumatic disease; the depression he was suffering from, which I do now, I was very sorry about the fact that nobody appreciated him in his lifetime. He, much like some other heroes (or, soldiers?) of human history, was respected posthumously. Fast forward 17 years, I finally could see THE Starry Night.
The first reaction was odd. Which was about the size of the painting. I somehow always thought it to be about the size of an A4 paper. (Who looks up the sizes of paintings in the internet anyway?).
Then there was this aura. I did not have any idea how a 100 years old painting can be this much shining, but it literally took my breath away. I stood up there for exactly 5 minutes. Just kept watching it. Scooted about the room checking out other paintings, and then came back to it, multiple times (Modhuro Tomar sesh je naa paai, prohor holo sesh. Bhubono jure roilo lege, anondo aabesh)
There was a small crowd before it. I’m sure others were mesmerised as well. There were other paintings of Van Gogh as well in the same room. None got this much attention.
Back in 2016, we had an app called Prisma. It can paint (!) pictures, in Van Gogh style. And to my noob eyes, they do look like his. Before AI finally takes over from us, my respect to the poor, visibly thin, unappreciated, crazy painter. You stole my heart when I was a kid, you stole it once again now.
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