Beautiful Madness

Seven years had passed since I'd made my decision to become an artist. In that time I'd studied art in a number of places, learning from various different artists I met along the way. Although my studies had been rather unorganized, I had learned a great deal, and I'd completed a number of paintings that I thought to be rather good. I was now ready to go and further pursue my career, and I knew exactly the place to do that.

I couldn't help but feel the slightest bit nervous as I stood on the doorstep of the address I'd written across so many letters in these last few years. In one hand I held a suitcase and with the other I hesitantly reached up and knocked on the door. My nerves did not improve as I awaited a reply for what seemed like hours but in truth was much shorter.

At last the door opened and there he stood, staring at me as though he wasn't sure I was really there, and holding the door half open.

"Hello Theo." I said to fill the silence that followed his shock.

"Vincent," He said. "What are you doing here?" I could tell he was trying to hide his irritation behind a patient tone.

"You said yourself all the best artists were coming to Paris." I answered matter-of-factly.

"Yes, but you will also recall that I said I did not think Paris would be the best place for you at this time."

"Well, I have come to prove you wrong."

With that said I pushed past him into the apartment and looked around. It was a nice apartment, well furnished, though rather small. It seemed the perfect place for a young man living by himself in Paris.

Theo stood at the door for another moment, seemingly trying to comprehend what had just happened. When he at last closed the door he turned back to me and looked at me as though he was trying to understand exactly how my mind worked.

"Lovely place you've got here." I said. Growing tired of the silence I thought I'd try and make polite conversation.

"Yes, I suppose so." Theo sighed and thought a moment before continuing. "I really don't think this is the best idea." He said. "You being here in Paris. I just, don't think it's the best place for you."

His words did nothing to sway me. I knew Paris was where I needed to be, and nothing he could say would convince me otherwise. I think he knew that, but it didn't stop him from trying.

"You're much too doubtful." I said, knowing his reasoning was based more than anything on the fact that he was worried about me. "Won't you give me a chance to prove I can handle Paris?"

He held my gaze for a long time, perhaps trying to think of another convincing protest, or perhaps just hoping I might take his silence as an answer. Finally he sighed again, but agreed, and so it was settled; I would stay with him in Paris.

My time in Paris proved beneficial to me as an artist. Theo, being an art dealer, knew a number of artists that I had the chance to meet and work with. It was in Paris that I was first introduced to the work of the impressionists, who inspired me to try a style of art different from anything I'd tried before. I also found an interest in Japanese Prints, which I began collecting in my time there.

Living with Theo could be difficult at times. Tensions between us rose, and led to arguments between us more than once, but there were also times that we were both grateful for each other's company.

I soon learned, however, that I would not be able to stay in Paris forever. Too many days passed when nasty weather kept me inside and kept me from working, leaving me discouraged and depressed. I missed taking long walks through the countryside to clear my mind and inspire me to paint. Although I never would have admitted it to him, I began to wonder if Theo had perhaps been right in saying Paris was not the perfect place for me.

In 1888, after two years in the city, I knew the time had come for me to leave. I moved south to Arles, a much smaller city with a vast countryside that I would appreciate very much. Theo made arrangements for another artist to join me in Arles; a man named Paul Gauguin.