Everybody is unique in their approach to life – the way we explain it to ourselves, in order to … take up opportunities, defy challenges, overcome anxieties, express feeling… The diversity in approaches in turn trickles down to all universal subjects from the broader elements or realities: science and art, to the narrower: numbers and color… A common approach has always been to look upon life as an open book, which we (individually) are authors. Each new day is a new page. Every arising minute, a new line…to fill in with opportunity, to reverse past mishaps…to write on towards an ending of our liking.
On my part I like to look at life as a blank canvas. In my canvas i may sketch or draw, i can rub, vary colors, add darker shades…or lighter, splash a new base and begin again…
This blog is an attempt at that which Van Gogh calls a slap at the insulting blank canvas. An exposition of my thoughts, work, art, things i admire…and that i don’t… Basically, an outlook of life as that canvas, and of my attempt or dare to cover/fill it up…
Take Mauve — why is he irascible and by no means always mild? I’m not yet as far as he is, but still I’ll get further than I am. I tell you, if one wants to be active, one mustn’t be afraid to do something wrong sometimes, not afraid to lapse into some mistakes. To be good — many people think that they’ll achieve it by doing no harm — and that’s a lie, and you said yourself in the past that it was a lie. That leads to stagnation, to mediocrity. Just slap something on it when you see a blank canvas staring at you with a sort of imbecility.
You don’t know how paralyzing it is, that stare from a blank canvas that says to the painter you can’t do anything. The canvas has an idiotic stare, and mesmerizes some painters so that they turn into idiots themselves.
Many painters are afraid of the blank canvas, but the blank canvas is afraid of the truly passionate painter who dares — and who has once broken the spell of ‘you can’t’.
Life itself likewise always turns towards one an infinitely meaningless, discouraging, dispiriting blank side on which there is nothing, any more than on a blank canvas.
But however meaningless and vain, however dead life appears, the man of faith, of energy, of warmth, and who knows something, doesn’t let himself be fobbed off like that. He steps in and does something, and hangs on to that, in short, breaks, ‘violates’ — they say.
From Vincent Van Gogh Letters, dated Thursday 2, October 1884 (No. 464)