Harry´s Blog

Herbert Kuhner

Van Gogh’s predominant color is yellow, yellow as bright as the sun when it’s at its brightest.

In spite of the fact that his brother Theo was an art dealer, he never had an exhibit and he sold only one painting. He lived in the good old days of art, and many of his contemporaries did well. I don’t want to name them here, because every man named would share the shame of not having helped him.

Now, when art is in its last throes, and the charlatans and hucksters are driving the knife in, Van Gogh’s paintings are sold and auctioned off for millions. This is an obscenity. Van Gogh’s work has become just another commodity.

Like many geniuses, Van Gogh could not master life. And as far as love is concerned, he fell for the wrong woman time and time again.

Toward the end, an art dealer recognized the value of his work and waited to be able to exploit him posthumously.

The man’s daughter offered to pose for Van Gogh in the nude. Posing was not her only intention. She wanted to reveal herself as a prelude to being deflowered. She had fallen in love, and passion had given her the courage to be foolhardy.

But instead of opting for the joy of viewing her nudity, painting her and taking the love she offered, he refused.

The pretext was that her father would not approve, which certainly would have been the case. The art dealer had plans for his daughter. And they did not include modeling in the nude or squandering her virginity on the moribund artist. Nor did he wish to delay the artist’s departure.

The truth is that Van Gogh was too far gone to respond. Instead of taking another chance on life, he chose death.