When Van Gogh was a young man in his early twenties, he was
in London studying to be a clergyman. He had no thought of being an artist at
all. He sat in his cheap little room writing a letter to his younger brother in
Holland, whom he loved very much. He looked out his window at a watery
twilight, a thin lampost, a star, and he said in his letter something like
this: "It is so beautiful I must show you how it looks." And then on
his cheap ruled note paper, he made the most beautiful, tender, little drawing
of it. When I read this letter of Van Gogh's it comforted me very much and
seemed to throw a clear light on the whole road of Art. Before, I thought that
to produce a work of painting or literature, you scowled and thought long and
ponderously and weighed everything solemnly and learned everything that all
artists had ever done aforetime, and what their influences and schools were,
and you were extremely careful about *design* and *balance* and getting
*interesting planes* into your painting, and avoided, with the most astringent
severity, showing the faintest *acedemical* tendency, and were strictly modern.
And so on and so on.But the moment I read Van Gogh's letter I knew what art
was, and the creative impulse. It is a feeling of love and enthusiasm for
something, and in a direct, simple, passionate and true way, you try to show
this beauty in things to others, by drawing it. And Van Gogh's little drawing on
the cheap note paper was a work of art because he loved the sky and the frail
lamppost against it so seriously that he made the drawing with the most
exquisite conscientiousness and care
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