“But I do feel that art can also console.
Yes it can scarify too, if the need arises. And it does and it does, when storm clouds assail me. But then there is a restoration in that too.
Paul said he sensed a loneliness in The Bedroom, as though, without me in it, that it was incomplete and longing for something more. But I don’t sense that at all, and it certainly was not what I intended. Because, to me, I am in it. Deeply. Intensely.
It’s humble, this little bedroom of mine in sunny Arles, but it’s also where I am. And I wanted it to be consolatory, like the chairs I’m working on. To have one’s own room, with one’s own things, however simple they may be, is still a wonder to me. A small bed to sleep in. A chair to sit and think and write and sketch at my table. My own paintings on the wall, that I painted with my own hand and heart.
Yes, a wonder and a benediction moreso. Even more affirming than the stars, perhaps, and more lasting, somehow. I’ve had my troubles and I owe Theo so much that I can never repay. But I think it’s all been worth it. Sometimes, at least, I feel that way.
When I have slept, and I see that blue light come through a morning window, I do feel that way. I do.”