Van Gogh Once wrote:



Death may possibly not be the hardest thing in the life of a painter. I must declare that I know nothing about them, but when I look at stars I always start dreaming, as readily as when the black points that indicate towns and villages on a map always start me dreaming. Why, I wonder, should the shininging points of the heavens be less accessible to us than the black dots on a map of France? Just as we take a train in order to travel to Tarascon or Rouen, we use death in order to reach a star. In one respect this thought is undoubtedly true: we can no more travel to a star while we are alive than we can take a train once we are dead. At all events, it does not strike me as impossible that cholera, kidney stones, cancer and consumption should be means of celestial transport just as steamers and railways are earthy ones. To die peacefully of old age would be equivalent of going on foot.





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This passage from from letter 506 is crucial to an understanding of the suicide that ended Van Gogh's life but for the moment we can take it as defining two areas : a remote one ( longed for and unattainable) out in the universe : and one in this world, quite concretely located in Arles, involving all the routine drudgery of everyday life.



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Copied from:



Vincent Van Gogh by Rainer Metzger, Ingo F. Walther from TASCHEN Page 128, 131





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靈魂的旅程? 觀星?



Does it match with the above mentioned paragraphs? May be not. But it should not be the point.

Your message just remind me the unfortunate life of a great artist, his admirable soul, and creative thinking.



Tainan Boy











Starry Night over the Rhone. By Van Gogh.

Hopefully, you like it and enjoy your star dream weaving. ^-^