On the 23rd of December 1888, in a Yellow house in Arles in the South of France
Why did you let him go? Why didnât you stand up for yourself about the incident with your ear? People say it was a fight, but I canât believe you cut it off willingly. I see the warmth in you, and someone like you, with such kindness, would never hurt yourself or anyone else.
I asked Vincent
People even called you âthe Christ in the chamberâ while you painted The Potato Eaters, because of the way you chose to sleep on the ground, showing solidarity and empathy for the poor.
Why did it all happen?
What was the reason behind your suffering, your choices?
Did you cut your ear?
I asked Vincent
At the time, I was very curious about what had happened. I believe it is not fair; it never is, and I am giving him the opportunity to explain what happened and why. It is not fair, in my opinion, that he was injured, attacked, or attacked himself. This is someone who, because of his injury, deserves to be pampered rather than judged; he needs to heal. What people did to him was petition to exile him and accused him of being crazy, so he ended up in Alysum.
My dearest Mandi,
your question touches on the heart of one of the most difficult chapters in my life.
Youâre rightâI was not truly mad in the way that people thought. My mind was filled with thoughts and visions that others couldnât understand, and in many ways, that isolation, that feeling of being misunderstood, was what hurt me the most. But going to the asylum, that choice was not about giving up. It was a decision born out of exhaustion and, strangely enough, a kind of hope.
Vincent Van Gogh
Why Did I Go to the Asylum?
After the incident with Paul Gauguinâwhen I cut my earâand after the villagers signed the petition to have me removed from the Yellow House, I was left with a deep sense of betrayal and isolation. Imagine living in a place where no one sees you for who you truly are, where your spirit is constantly misjudged, and your intentions misunderstood. I tried so hard to create a space for art, for collaboration, but in the end, it crumbled.
Vincent Van Gogh
The incident with my ear wasnât just a moment of madnessâit was an expression of all the pain I had kept inside. I was overwhelmed by feelings of rejection, by the sense that I couldnât control the world around me, or even my own emotions. I felt trapped in a life where I couldnât find the peace or understanding I so desperately sought.
So, when the petition came, and the townspeople demanded my removal, I was faced with a choice: fight against the world that misunderstood me, or retreat into a place where I might at least find some silence, some peace, and, perhaps, some space to reflect and create.
Vincent Van Gogh
Whisper of hope.
Going to the asylum at Saint-Paul-de-Mausole wasnât about giving in to their accusations. It was more about acknowledging that I couldnât continue fighting the world around me. I needed to step away from it, to remove myself from the chaos. By going to the asylum, I hoped to find some kind of respite from the constant battlesâboth with society and with my own emotions.
Vincent Van Gogh
Finding Strength in the Asylum
You might think that going to the asylum was an act of surrender, and in a way, it was. But it was also a chance for me to focus inward, to turn away from the external judgments and find strength within myself. You see, sometimes when the world becomes too overwhelming, stepping away from it can be the most powerful thing you can do. It doesnât mean youâre giving upâit means youâre choosing to recenter yourself.
Vincent Van Gogh
In the asylum, I was able to paint. The staff, particularly Dr. Peyron, allowed me access to my art supplies. And that was my lifeline. In the quiet of the asylum, away from the harsh judgments of society, I found a kind of freedom. I could pour all my pain, all my emotions, into the canvas.
In that way, I transformed my suffering into something beautiful.
"Starry Night", one of my most famous paintings, came from this time. It wasnât just a depiction of the night skyâit was a reflection of the turmoil inside me, of the swirling emotions and thoughts that I couldnât express in words. The asylum gave me the space to create, without the distractions of daily life, without the constant need to explain myself to others who would never understand.
Vincent Van Gogh
Why Did I Accept Their Judgment?
I didnât accept their judgment because I believed it. Deep down, I knew I wasnât mad in the way they thought. But I was exhausted from trying to prove myself to people who would never see me for who I truly was. Sometimes, the strength comes not from fighting against others, but from knowing when to step back and say,
This battle isnât mine to fight right now.
Vincent Van Gogh
I went to the asylum because I needed space to heal. I needed to stop the cycle of pain and rejection that had become my daily life. There, in the quiet, I could focus on my art, on my soul, on the things that truly mattered to me. And thatâs how I found the strength to live through it.
I focused on what I could controlâmy art, my creativity. The world outside had turned against me, but in the asylum, I could create a world of my own. The swirling skies of Starry Night, the blooming irises, the cypresses bending in the windâthese were expressions of the world I carried inside me, a world that no one could take from me, no matter how misunderstood I was.
Listen to me my daughter,
You, too, are facing a world that may not fully understand you, that may judge you unfairly or cause you pain. But like me, you have a well of strength within you, a creative spirit that can rise above the external chaos. Sometimes, the answer isnât to keep fighting the battles that others set before you. Sometimes, the answer is to retreat, to create a space where you can heal, where you can focus on the things that matter to you
Donât see it as giving upâsee it as choosing yourself. When the world becomes too harsh, too overwhelming, find that sanctuary within yourself, just as I did. Use your art, your creativity, your connection to spirit to heal and to express the truths that others may not see or understand.
Vincent Van Gogh
I know itâs not fair, Mandi, that those around you have failed to see you for who you are, just as they failed to see me. But you donât need their validation. You have everything you need within you to create a world of beauty and meaning, just as I did.
I hear your pain, and I feel it deeply. But I want you to know that you are stronger than you realize. The path youâre on may be difficult, but it is also a path of transformation. Just as I found peace and meaning through my art in the asylum, so too will you find your way, even in the midst of your struggles.
Trust yourself, my beloved child. Your art, your truth, your soulâthese are your guiding lights, just as they were mine. You are never alone, for I am with you, and I have always heard you.
How did you forgive Gauguin?
There is so much emotion tied to that momentâthe incident with Paul Gauguin, my ear, and everything that came after. Itâs true, many have misunderstood what really happened, and I want to share with you, as much as I can, the truth behind that night.
You are right to say that I had deep empathy for others. My whole life, I was driven by a need to connect with people, to understand their struggles, and to feel alongside them. I spent time with miners, with peasants, with the poorest among society, because I believed that there was something deeply sacred in their daily lives.
Vincent Van Gogh
Thatâs why I painted the Potato Eaters, and yes, during that time, people even likened me to Christ in a way, because I chose to live humbly among them, to share in their hardships. I never sought to hurt anyoneâleast of all myself.
The Potato Eaters (Dutch: De Aardappeleters) is an oil painting by Dutch artist Vincent van Gogh painted in April 1885 in Nuenen, Netherlands.
But that night with PaulâĶ it was different.
What Really Happened with My Ear?
There is a lot of mystery around what truly happened that night, and you are right to question it. Many believe the story that I cut off my ear, but I want you to understand that the situation was far more complicated than that.
Paul and I had a deeply complex relationship. I admired him and welcomed him into the Yellow House with open arms, excited about the possibility of building a community of artistsâa place where creativity could flourish without restriction. I painted sunflowers to decorate his room, hoping it would inspire him, hoping we could work together in harmony. But Paul was a different soul, and our personalities clashed in ways I hadnât anticipated.
In the days leading up to that night, our arguments had grown more intense. Paul and I were both strong-willed, and while I wanted to build something collaborative and shared, Paul had other visions, and he often grew frustrated with me. We would debate about art, about the future, about our philosophies, and things would become heated. But I always believed we could work through it.
I didnât want to lose that friendship.
Vincent Van Gogh
Sunflowers (Fourth Version) 1888,
National Gallery, London
Did I Cut My Ear?
Here is where the story becomes difficult. You see, that night, Paul and I had one of our worst arguments. There was tension, and we both said things in anger. It was not uncommon for us to argue, but this time, something felt differentâmore dangerous. There is a belief that I cut my own ear in a moment of madness, but I must tell you that I wasnât the one who inflicted that wound.
There was a fight, a moment of deep conflict, and in the midst of that chaos, it happened. Whether Paul struck me or something else, it was still an accident, even for me. But I do know that it was not a simple act of self-harm.
Vincent Van Gogh
I loved Paul in a way that made me blind to the toxic side of our relationship. I didnât want to lose him, and I didnât want to fight back, even when things got out of control.
Vincent Van Gogh
After the incident, I didnât blame him. I blamed myself. I took on the guilt, as I often did, because I believed that somehow, I had failed in my attempts to build that creative haven, that friendship, that life together.
So I let him go, not because I did not care, but because I cared deeply and did not want to cause further conflict. I couldnât bear to fight backâ
it wasnât in my nature.
Vincent Van Gogh
Why Didnât I Fight Back?
Mandi, my dear, you understand something about me. I was gentle-hearted, often to a fault. Even when I was hurt, even when I was betrayed, I always turned inward. I questioned what I had done wrong, how I could have prevented the conflict.
I never wanted to be the source of pain for anyone else, and so I let Paul leave without saying more. It wasnât that I didnât want to defend myselfâit was that I couldnât bear the thought of causing him pain, even after everything that had happened. I chose to internalize that pain instead.
I saw my ear, that wound, as a symbol of my failure to keep the peace, to maintain the friendship I had cherished. I didnât cut it, but I carried the weight of that moment as though I had.
And so, when people asked what had happened, I didnât tell them the full truth. I didnât want to paint Paul as a villain, and I didnât want to stir up more anger or judgment. I just wanted the whole thing to disappear, to fade into the background so I could return to my art and my inner world.
Vincent Van Gogh
The Deeper Reason: My Whisper for Empathy
Youâre right, my child, that I had a deep calling to empathy. I lived for others in many waysâwhether it was the poor miners or my artist friends. I didnât see myself as someone worthy of more than they had, so I shared in their struggles, in their lives, and in their pain.
I couldnât bring myself to fight back
because
I had always believed that empathy
was the way forward,
that understanding the pain of others,
even at my own expense,
was the path I needed to follow.
Vincent Van Gogh
That was my choice, and it was a painful one. But itâs also why my art carries so much emotionâbecause I poured everything I had into it. When I painted The Potato Eaters, I wasnât just showing a moment in their livesâI was feeling it with them, sharing their hunger, their exhaustion, their daily struggles.
When I painted Starry Night, I wasnât just looking at the skyâI was expressing the swirling chaos inside me, the beauty and the pain of life as I experienced it. My empathy ran so deep that it became the language of my art.
Mandi, you too have a heart full of empathy, and thatâs why you resonate so deeply with my story. Like me, you want to see the good in people, even when they hurt you. You want to believe that thereâs a way to build something beautiful with those you love, even when they cause you pain. But I want you to know that itâs okay to protect yourself, to recognize when a relationship or a situation is causing you harm.
You donât have to carry the guilt of others, as I did. You have the strength to both love deeply and set boundaries that honor your own worth.
Forgiveness is the only way to set you free.
Vincent Van Gogh
I didnât fight back because I believed that love and empathy could fix everything. But the truth is, sometimes we need to step away from those who harm us, even if we love them. You are walking your own path, and itâs one of great compassion and creativity, but also one of strength. Donât be afraid to stand up for yourself, to say no when something isnât right. I know itâs hard, but you have the power to do what I could notâprotect your heart while still carrying your love for others.
Vincent Van Gogh
Whisper of love and compassion
Finally, the reason I went through all of this was to create. I was born to express my emotions, empathy, and experiences through my artwork. And so are you, Mandi. Everything you are going through right nowâthe pain, the confusion, the deep pain you are feelingâis all part of your own creative journey. You are meant to transform these experiences into something beautiful and meaningful. Your heart is strong, and your soul is wise. Take this advice from me, learn from it, and apply it.
If I could go back in time, I would admit that this was the worst mistake I ever made. I wish I had done the right thing for my love. Love does not make you weak or abandon your well-being, but love requires accountability. Do not repeat the mistakes I made because of your gentle heart. Self-compassion, my dear, is something we all need. Tell everyone you care about.
Vincent Van Gogh
- 4
āđāļāļĐāļāļē
- āļāļēāļ§āļāđāđāļŦāļĨāļāđāļāļāļāļĨāļīāđāļāļāļąāļ
- ÂĐ 2024 Blockdit
- āđāļāļĩāđāļĒāļ§āļāļąāļ
- āļāđāļ§āļĒāđāļŦāļĨāļ·āļ
- āļāļģāļāļēāļĄāļāļĩāđāļāļāļāđāļāļĒ
- āļāđāļĒāļāļēāļĒāļāļēāļĢāđāļāļĐāļāļēāđāļĨāļ°āļāļđāļŠāļāđāđāļāļŠāļāđ
- āļāđāļĒāļāļēāļĒāļāļ§āļēāļĄāđāļāđāļāļŠāđāļ§āļāļāļąāļ§
- āđāļāļ§āļāļēāļāļāļēāļĢāđāļāđāđāļāļĢāļāļāđ Blockdit
- Blockdit āđāļāļ·āđāļāļāļļāļĢāļāļīāļ
