Van Gogh's long, hard struggle for greatness
A new exhibition of Van Gogh's art and letters at the Royal Academy reveals the toil and sweat of the artist, writes Alan Caine

29 January 2010

The Real Van Gogh: The Artist and his Letters
Royal Academy
until April 18

"Know it well, dear brother, how strongly and intensely I feel the enormous debt I owe for your faithful help. It would be difficult for me to express my thoughts about it. It remains a constant disappointment to me that my drawings are not yet what I want them to be... Making progress is like miners' work: it doesn't advance as quickly as one should like, and as others expect; but faced with such a task, patience and faithfulness are essential..."

The year is 1882: the artist, aged 29, is living in rural Holland. He produces drawing after drawing of the countryside and of people who live there. The results, presented at the Royal Academy, are often slightly clumsy. He struggles to catch the stance and character of human figures. He notices the way trees grow, how branches sprout and how shadows are cast, and the works have some intensity. However, if he was your son and you showed the work to a serious art tutor, lavish praise would not be forthcoming; another profession would be advised.

In this exhibition, drawings and paintings are accompanied by letters written by Vincent van Gogh, mostly to his brother, Theo, who supported him emotionally and financially. He reflects on religion, books, life, and his earnest commitment to develop, through his own discipline, into an artist. Letters often include small drawings of work being done. One contains a coloured sketch of a pollard willow by a pond. It has a tougher and stronger character than a larger framed version on display. The toil and sweat of the artist and his subjects are revealed, sometimes touchingly, but only the most inane optimist would dare to suggest that the story will go on and that the artist will, within a few decades, have work displayed among masterpieces by Raphael and Rembrandt in the world's major galleries.

He spent time in the rural community of Nuenen from 1883 to 1885, and in some of his drawings of peasants we catch a glimpse of brilliance. Peasant Woman Kneeling Seen from the Back (1885) greets us with a wonderful clarity. The chalk image captures the shape and volume of her body. Acute marks convey the hands and profile, and simple "calligraphic" lines evoke grass. She casts a shadow and reveals strength and vulnerability.

Stunned by the colour and pulse of his paintings, our judgments change alarmingly when we enter the galleries filled with paintings from his last five years. Earnest attempts are replaced by eloquent canvases and vibrant drawings. Dark and broody landscapes give way to light.

Van Gogh moved to Antwerp in 1885 and on to Paris in February of 1886. Young impressionist artists, Japanese prints, the Louvre and intellectual companionship were new and powerful forces. In two fine drawings of sailing boats we find that he has developed his own drawing technique based on ideas found in Japanese prints and calligraphy. Using a reed pen, he creates a series of marks which do not copy waves but evoke the movement and pulse of the ocean. On colour-filled canvases, with paint, these marks are forceful and controlled, formed to create boats, trees or fields, each translated with clarity into the language he has now discovered.

Two Cut Sunflowers (1887) reveals flower heads of ripe seeds on a pulsating coloured ground. The energy of the paint and pattern suggest a life force, with some of the intensity which can be found in illuminated pages of the Book of Kells. Landscapes and flower paintings carry the rhythms of life and growth.

A roomful of portraits assembled from far and wide includes paintings of the postman Roulin and his family and other sharp images of people willing to sit for an artist whose works are never bought. Only one self-portrait is shown. Produced in Arles in 1888, it is impressionist in tone. Reds and greens and oranges side by side create the artist's beard and mouth - and give a flicker of life to the flesh of his face. Unpretentious but intense, we meet this complicated man at work. Van Gogh's Chair and Paul Gauguin's Armchair are nearly portraits, speaking to each other on one wall.

A painful and profound series of works from June and July of 1889 change the mood of his late landscapes and were painted when he was in the asylum at St Remy. Twisting olive trees and erupting shapes of stoney mountains are topped by curling blue skies with white clouds. They greet us with the authority of a well-schooled artist who is capable of holding together intense and expressive states of nature which also reflect inner distress.

In May 1890, Vincent van Gogh moved to Auvers, the home of Dr Gachet. We are told that he painted at least 70 canvases in the 70 days before his suicide. Several of these works are on display, and although some of them might have been carried to a further stage of refinement if he had survived, they are lucid, often optimistic, and the work of a master. The letter to Theo, in his pocket when he shot himself, includes these words:

"Well, the truth is, we can only make our pictures speak. But yet, my dear brother, there is this that I have always told you, and... I tell you again, that I shall always consider you to be something more than a simple dealer in Corots, that through my mediation you have your part in the actual production of some canvases, which will retain their calm even in the catastrophe."