In November 2017 I found myself in front of this self portrait of Van Gough at the Musee D’Orsay, Paris. Van Gough is not my favourite painter. Or let’s say I like Monet and Klimt a bit more. But this painting drew me in. First because of its colour palette. This blue is my favourite. I thought Van Gough had painted himself with a certain vulnerability. And then I read some descriptive text on the panel next to it. 'Somewhere between genius and alienation Van Gough committed suicide at the age of 37', I learnt.
I was 37 in 2017. And suddenly I felt overcome by a barrage of emotions. It’s as if I really saw the man, almost alive, and I understood him perfectly. Even why he would commit suicide. For a moment I fully acknowledge how painful and beautiful life is. It was a moment of connection.
How else could you feel at 37, at Musee d'Orsay, in front of Van Gough? And what a legacy he has left us for those 37 years…