R.I.P. Vincent van Gogh

PLUS: Gift of the first chapter of my novel and an invitation for you.

Digging in with Joan Fernandez is a free weekly email newsletter of peeks into Jo van Gogh’s world, news bits about Van Gogh paintings, fresh narratives originating from others’ lives and my own. especially about women’s amazing stories — past and present. Please sign up here.

Did Vincent van Gogh die from a broken heart? And how did he die? Was he alone?

Yesterday, July 29, 1890, was the anniversary of Vincent’s death. One hundred thirty-four years ago. It brought back the memory when I visited the small room in which he died.

How he might have felt in those last moments.

And why it could matter to you.

Visit to Vincent’s Room in Auvers

A few years ago, my husband and I took a Sunday train out from the Gare du Nord train station to Avers-sur-Oise, a metro area outside Paris. We were on a little trek for me to do research for my book but also just to enjoy travel to European cities. We’d both retired so for the first time neither of us had professional accountability to jerk us stateside and back into a 9-to-5 routine.

Nevertheless, I am still motoring on squeezing productivity out of every minute. So, even though trains run less frequently on Sundays, one weekend I suggest we go to Auvers to visit the cemetery where Vincent and Theo (his brother) are buried. Planning our time to fit neatly into catching infrequent trains— “Easy peasy,” I assure my husband.

“Besides I took French in high school,” I add, putting to rest any possible doubts of my scrupulous travel planning.

After a little garbled French-English wrangling to get train tickets from an annoyed ticket agent (couldn’t blame him), we’re on our way. Yes, we smoothly switch trains to make a tight connection (See? No big deal.) and when we step out onto a pretty street where a nearby bakery’s fragrant breads and pastry tantalize the air, and cheerful red and pink flowers border the two-lane road, I’m happy. A perfect Sunday expedition.

Map-less, we wander a little, eventually coming across the actual church Vincent painted (The Church at Auvers) when he lived here, and then follow the DIY-Vincent-trail signs up a dirt road alongside a wheatfield to the cemetery where Vincent and Theo’s graves lie side by side under a bed of ivy. (Later in my book’s research I would learn that Jo —Theo’s wife and the person who ultimately enabled Vincent’s art to become broadly known — would move her husband’s remains to lie here next to Vincent’s in 1914). I stand at the foot of the graves staring at the tombstones. I imagine that Jo stood here too.

How her thoughts must have tumbled. A combination of gratitude and heartache, for her life had changed and taken on new meaning because of these deaths.

My husband clears his throat. I check my watch. Ninety minutes before the train returning to Paris makes its stop. Plenty of time to explore more, right?

Yes, we find the small house where Vincent rented a room. Pay a few euros for the next tour. Spend time waiting by reading all the info plaques scattered around the courtyard. I snap iPhone photos for future reference. My stomach rumbles. Make a mental note to stop at the bakery. A tour group finally amasses. About 8-10 people. My Cuban husband chats with a couple from Spain, but I’m only half trying to translate for the group is moving forward and I squeeze myself closer to hear the tour guide.

We mount narrow stairs, bunching a little at the turns. The tour guide continues to talk, but now I don’t differentiate what she said from what I would later research. I do remember how reproductions of Vincent’s paintings are leaning along walls leading to his room, and also inside his room, for we’re there. We crowd in.

You know what? It’s really small. Non-descript, even with those colorful posters. Enough room for a twin bed against one wall, a little window, but not much more. Here at his stay in Auvers Vincent would demonstrate a burst of creativity and vitality in an explosion of 80 paintings and drawings in just two months. It’s a crescendo of color. A boundless unique expression.

It’s so sad that he died without knowing what lay ahead.

The tour guide is talking, but I am lost in the image of Theo sitting at Vincent’s bedside on July 29th. Clasping his hand. Two days earlier in a field a mile away, Vincent had shot himself in the stomach, then managed to walk back to this house, climb those stairs and collapse onto his bed. An urgent telegram to Paris would bring Theo and a few close friends racing.

Vincent would die as an ordinary laborer. His talent only recognized by a few. Theo, heartsick and overcome with grief for his older brother, must have felt enormous remorse that he hadn’t done more. For his annoying, exasperating, talented big brother had tried with every ounce of his being to overcome mental illness and still paint when he could. Studying, experimenting, following an uncharted way toward expressing a wordless urgent feeling to create.

Theo would have grieved. Could have, should have.

Vincent too. So terrible to believe his life and talent had been for nothing.

My husband nudges me, pointing to his watch. Holy mackerel! We have ten minutes to get to the train! We elbow through the tour group — me “excusez-moi-ing” —, hurriedly scoot down the stairs, and dart onto the street in a jog toward the train. Pass the bakery - still emitting such fragrance, oh! Dodge tourists on the now-crowded sidewalks. Glance back for traffic so we can run on the street. Sweaty, puffing, no time for the women’s room, charge up the steps and onto the train.

Listen to Your Inner Voice

That trip took place in 2019. I’ve written two manuscripts for a book since then. One is now in the publishing pipeline and will see the light of day next April.

Five years is a blink compared to Vincent’s one hundred thirty-four.

Vincent was 37 years old when he died. There was no way for him to know that his incredible output of work would ever matter. That his decision to follow his own intuition and inspiration would be remembered and celebrated.

It would have been unfathomable to him that Orchard with Cypresses painted two years earlier in Arles would one day sell for $117.2 million (at Christie’s New York in 2022).

And that his work would inspire millions.

It takes courage to follow your inner voice.

I’m grateful you’re doing it.

Here’s to you! And Vincent,

P.S. on our Auvers Adventure: When my husband and I got back to the Gare du Nord station late that Sunday, the station was mostly vacant. The ticket windows were shuttered. Tired, we walked to the electronic exit doors, inserted our tickets for the doors to open but they didn’t budge. Tried again. Same result. It dawned on me. Dear god, in my mangled French, had I bought one-way tickets to Auvers? We were stuck! Juan glances at me. A man steps in front of him to exit, inserts his ticket, the doors open, and my husband smoothly walks through the door behind the traveler and is out the other side! I look at him grinning through the slats of the aluminum fence. A woman traveler passes me, inserts her ticket, the doors slide open, and I step behind her and through the doors. Voila! Next time I will let my iPhone do the translating.

Thank You Gift - Sneak Peek at the First Chapter (Plus Bonus Info!)

I have a sneak peek for you! As a small thank you for your subscribing to this newsletter and following my journey with Jo and Vincent and Theo, I’m offering this free download of the first chapter of my book. (In a few weeks, I’ll also be offering it as an incentive for new subscribers.) I wanted to make it available to you first. I strive to do better with it every week. Thank you for joining me.

Click here for free download of first chapter

Shout out to Maria Cavellini for this first chapter excerpt’s beautiful design. (You can contact Maria on LinkedIn at Maria Cavallini, Senior Art Director at iCreate, LLC if interested in her design talents.)

Wanna Hangout on August 4?

RSVP for a special Zoom. I’m gathering up goofy ideas for having fun at future Saving Vincent, A Novel of Jo van Gogh book club meetups. Jo deserves a few plot twists and deep dives. What would you be desperate to know more about her story? Or Vincent’s? These could be fun adds for book clubs. Come brainstorm with me!

The Zoom date is Sunday, August 4 at 4:00pm ET. Contact me by simply replying to this newsletter and I’ll send you the Zoom link.

Can’t wait to see what we can come up with together!