DIY History | Transcribe | Campus Culture | I.C. Notebooks 1

Transcribe
Translate

Image 12

(That room recalls the end-product, with its pearl-white wall on which hangs a rough towel like an old peasant charm, unapproachable but comforting.)
   Another time it gives the effect of a simple haystack crushed by an enormous sun.
   There are those light chalk-whites that are worse than ancient tortures, and more than ever and that painting does poor Van Gogh’s scrupulous honesty appear.

  For Van Gogh will prove to have been the real painter of painters, heavily and empathetically applied. The common color of things, but oh so right, so lovingly right that there are no precious stones that can equal its rarity.

   Fort Van Gogh is all that, the unique scrupulousness of the stroke the only one who had no wish to go beyond painting; he stuck to the strict means of his trade and the strict framework of his means.
   And on the other hand the only one, absolutely the only one, who absolutely went beyond painting, the inert act of representing nature, in order to create a revolving force, an element plucked straight from the heart.
   With his way of representing things he soldered air and enclose a nerve in it, which does not exist in nature, but a truer air or nerve than his cannot be found in nature.
   As I write these lines, I see the bloody red face of the painter coming at me, from a wall of eviscerated some sunflowers,
   from a tremendous embrasure of opaque hyacinths and fields of lapis-lazuli.
   All of it, amid a meteoric bombardment of atoms falling grain by grain,
   proof that Van Gogh thought of his canvasses as a painter would, indeed, and only as a painter, but who would be
   by that very fact
   a tremendous musician.

   Organist of an arrested tempest that laughs and limpid nature,

153

Saving...

(That room recalls the end-product, with its pearl-white wall on which hangs a rough towel like an old peasant charm, unapproachable but comforting.) Another time it gives the effect of a simple haystack crushed by an enormous sun. There are those light chalk-whites that are worse than ancient tortures, and more than ever and that painting does poor Van Gogh’s scrupulous honesty appear. For Van Gogh will prove to have been the real painter of painters, heavily and empathetically applied. The common color of things, but oh so right, so lovingly right that there are no precious stones that can equal its rarity. Fort Van Gogh is all that, the unique scrupulousness of the stroke the only one who had no wish to go beyond painting; he stuck to the strict means of his trade and the strict framework of his means. And on the other hand the only one, absolutely the only one, who absolutely went beyond painting, the inert act of representing nature, in order to create a revolving force, an element plucked straight from the heart. With his way of representing things he soldered air and enclose a nerve in it, which does not exist in nature, but a truer air or nerve than his cannot be found in nature. As I write these lines, I see the bloody red face of the painter coming at me, from a wall of eviscerated some sunflowers, from a tremendous embrasure of opaque hyacinths and fields of lapis-lazuli. All of it, amid a meteoric bombardment of atoms falling grain by grain, proof that Van Gogh thought of his canvasses as a painter would, indeed, and only as a painter, but who would be by that very fact a tremendous musician. Organist of an arrested tempest that laughs and limpid nature, 153