Tag Archives: literature

A discovery: Sergio Kokis

Posted on 28/04/2014 | Leave a comment

It seems there are a lot of visitors for this post…

A few weeks ago I’ve rediscovered Sergio Kokis. I “re-discoverd” him since I’ve seen and even browsed one of his books, La danse macabre du Quebec (The morbid dance of Quebec?) but, for some reason , I did not clicked at the time…

But, “browsing” through my old papers, I’ve fall upon a cut from L’Actualite (a magazine from Montreal, I think) with an interview featuring Sergio Kokis. And, this time, it clicked! His opinion on today’s art market, on the level of deception and falsity and stupidness and snobishness in today’s art seemed to be simply mine. He formulated the same thoughts, almost, that, for years, had populated my thoughts. The tirany of art “experts” and museums curators, the usually mean spirited and mercantile approach of art merchants, their money-grubbing and vulgar approach of art (under snobish and distinguished appearances, which are valid for the most art “collectors” too…Exceptions…

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How to Decide if a Biography of Van Gogh deserves to be Read?

Posted on 15/01/2014 | Leave a comment

Recently, a good friend gave me the gift of an unknown, for me, biography of Van Gogh, “Vincent Van Gogh – A Life” by Philip Callow, 1990, at Elephant Paperback, Chicago.

Since TIME is of a very sensitive nature for me (as, maybe, it should be for everyone since it’s impossible to buy it or re-generate it…) I have to come with new ways of choosing my readings. Van Gogh being, still, after cancer healing and nutrition and meditation books, a preferred and important reading subject for me.

It took me cca 5 minutes to decide that Callow’s bio of Van Gogh wasn’t worth reading, at least, not by me. Maybe if you don’t know anything about Van Gogh (or just the media gossip, here and there) this book will be readable. But for me, or someone who read most of Van Gogh biographies, or at least, the important ones, this is an amateur, dilettant, bio. How did I arrive at this conclusion?

Well, first of all, I’ve browsed the bibliography. Aside from Vincent Letters (which, of course, are a sine qua non of ANY biography of Van Gogh) only very few of the important, interesting biographers of Vincent were there: Marc Edo Tralbaut. Only 2 other big names, but with general works, Herbert Read, with “The Meaning Of Art” and Rainer Maria Rilke with “Letters to Cézanne” (as I’ve mentioned, works not directly related to Vincent).

So, this was a good hint this was only a commercial, conventional biography of Van Gogh, one written without the preparation or the special skills needed (the author “studied engineering and the teaching of English before turning to writing” ). Well, I’m not a stickler against engineers or English Teachers turned to writing. I think everybody deserves a chance.

But then I came to the supreme test, for me, of a good biography of Vincent. I’ve read the last chapter, the one about the death of Vincent and, eventually, his immediate post-mortem events. And there, without any doubt, I concluded that Philip Callow’s bio was, for me, worthless. No need to read, again and again, the conventional ( and false) legend of the death of Vincent. The “suicide” (taken as a given, no doubt, no inquiry of the question; of course, one cannot judge a 1990 bio of Vincent with the StevenNaifeh and Gregory White Smith’s 2011 bio in mind, even if, for me, it’s not feasible any more; it’s kind of branded in my mind!) the good “friend” Paul Gachet doing his thing as a “family” doctor, etc. (Gachet wasn’t really a friend of Vincent, not at the end of his life; after some authors, who did extensive research on the matter, he was even a shameless profiteer not only of Van Gogh – who was his “profiteer masterpiece” though – but of all the Impressionists and post-impressionists who crossed his path: Pissarro, Monet (the “good” doctor even had the main responsibility in Monet’s wife untimely death) etc.; but that’s an entirely different subject…) Anyway, reading the chapter I was kind of bored and kind of disgusted of the conventionality and dulness of it. Not to mention the conventional “Theo” dying after 6 months thing. Lets say the truth, Theo’s death was, of course, precipitated, by Vincent’s. But he died of 3rd state syphilis. And their relations where a lot more complex and interesting than the conventional “loving” brother thing. (Let’s say that Vincent could be, really, sometimes, a pain in the arse for his family…) Some pretty good dual biographies are out there that really deserves to be read…

When I thought my time was quasi-infinite I’ve come across a lot of quirky , poetical, far-fetched biographies or writings about Vincent. But, at least, they were not boring and dull. So, if you came across this particular biography, do not read it. You’ll waste precious time. Even the 60-70 years old “Lust for Life” by Irving Stone (a serious biographer and writer) is better as a biography of Vincent. In fact, that’s a a classic. And if you have the time to read only ONE biography of Vincent Van Gogh, go with Naifeh and White Smith’s bio. It’s the best to date (and I assume it will be for the next 25 years at least…)

By the way, they don’t pay me to advertise their book. The book advertise itself, by it’s outstanding value…

I hope my little tips of how to decide if a book about Vincent deserves reading would help you to gain time. Because, I know it now, time is the most precious thing you have. Don’t waste it.

What about Vincent’s suicide?

Posted on 30/03/2012 | Leave a comment

This is just a tentative essay of my immediate reactions to the Naifeh & Smith book. I will probably come back with more.

A news of a brand new hypothesis of Van Gogh’s death was how I discovered the latest book about Vincent, “Van Gogh the Life”. Some article on the internet about their hypothesis saying that, in fact, Vincent did NOT committed suicide.

The truth is that I’ve tried to cheat a bit and read everything on Amazon. But they are not born yesterday, either. So, the essential pages were missing on the PDF thing available for freeloaders, poor artists, like myself. I had to regularly buy it. And I do not regret it because, even if I don’t love it or adore it, it’s an honest book, very well documented and written.

Did Vincent committed suicide? or not? That was the question. (My question for this post, not the book’s! In fact, I wouldn’t say they give a lot of space or excessive importance to the question). Almost no other author, until Naifeh & Smith, even considered another possibility than suicide. I have to confess I have my very frail and thin doubts because, in fact, there was a bit of a mystery and lots of confusions and contradictory facts, but I am just another Vincent’s fan and his legend can be, at times, pretty intimidating.

What’s to remain of his legend if one substracts the madness, the cutting of the ear and SUICIDE ? (I could verify and it was JUST an EAR LOBE, documented also in Naifeh & Smith; they tend to become a reference, weather one love them or not…)

So, here it is, in noce, the Naifeh & Smith (one has the tendency to think Smith & Wesson!) variant of Vincent’s death. They argue, convincingly, that in fact Vincent GOT shot by some young prankster (the most probable culprit: a young, reckless, rich playboy, playing cowboy (sorry for the pun!) – Vincent called “Puffalo Pill” to their endless amusement at his Dutch Buffalo Bill pronunciation! – by the name of Réné Sécretain). Based on his own testimony, and some others too, the authors conclude, after a convincing demonstration based on facts and logic, that Vincent, in circumstances unknown, was shot with an old, trigger sensible revolver belonging to Réné Sécretain either by accident or by recklessness (a prank gone bad). He returned to the Ravoux inn (but not from the far away location presumed, the romantic wheat fields but from a lot more nearer and prosaic location, a dung heap of a farm in Chaponval) to die, assuming the shooting both in order to protect the culprit but mostly because it suited him well at that precise timeline – he was extremely depressed and felt his whole life was coming to an end. ( Theo’s health and family situation made a burden out of Vincent and he feared another attack, etc.) Life, by this accident, did what he would probably do himself sooner or later. Vincent just took this opportunity as a godsend, accepted it and, after long hours of quiet and secret conversation with Theo, his brother and mecena, he expired.

I have to say I was (still am) convinced by this late hypothesis of Vincent’s death. At this moment in time, with the known facts and testimonies, Naifeh and Smith’s variant seems to be the truthful one.

Anyway, why is his death SO important (other than to reinforce a legend, a myth, very powerful and, as they say nowdays, “viral”) ?

What is really important is the beauty, the joy that his many masterpieces bring in our life. The rare feat of a man who, against many contrary odds, succeeded to create an amazing body of artworks.

The legend of the mad genius, the myth of the cursed artist…well, they are just that, legends, myths. Destined to fulfill our collective need for heroes and fiction.

Another Montreal Landscape

Posted on 10/12/2007 | 4 comments

This one is a landscape I do not have anymore. I’ve painted it in acrylics, in 2001 or 2002, at the height of my mid-life depression, when everything was going down the drain… my family, my credit, my everything… Even my only friend I thought I have, Florin M. He was good to me, he helped me, as long as he thought I had a hope of going up again… I cannot condamn him… At the time, I really was hopeless… Very, very close to that edge… you know, THAT edge… I gave my friend Florin this painting and I only can hope he still have it and still thinks, here and there, to our friendship and to life in general. Because life isn’t really choosy… it gets to everybody, sooner or later. Sooner of later you look IT in the eyes and, if you are lucky, you get back and start again. You write, you draw, you paint or compose music, whatever “to escape the madness, the melancholia, the panic fear which is inherent in the human situation”… Graham Greene said it, in his autobiography “Ways of Escape”... Since I’m writing (and drawing and painting) I must be one of the lucky ones….