The day I met Van Gogh (again), and what it taught me about making honest art
- , Art talk
The day I met Van Gogh
Two days ago, I was back in the National Gallery in London. The Impressionist rooms were packed, people drifting like tides in front of Monet, and I made a beeline to say hello to Degas’ dancers. That gorgeous pastel Ballet dancers stopped me in my tracks: velvet-soft light, movement caught mid-breath. Stunning.
And then I turned, and there they were: Van Gogh’s Sunflowers.
I saw them here almost ten years ago, and the feeling was the same, maybe stronger. An electric shiver ran up my spine and all the way to the tips of my hair. The yellows felt warm, alive, pulsing with human presence. The paint wasn’t an image; it was a heartbeat.
Why does that moment hit so hard? Is it his story, sad, luminous, complicated? Is it the way pop culture (yes, that Doctor Who episode) made him feel like someone we could protect with our whole hearts? Is it simply the art itself, blazing with life? Probably all of it.
But here’s what it taught me, again, about making work that truly moves us:
Courage matters: keep making what you feel called to make, even when not everyone “gets” it yet.
Honesty matters more: if a small voice whispers “you’re skipping the hard part,” listen. You need skill, practice and devotion, no shortcuts.
The goal isn’t to be “different.” The goal is to make your art vibrate, to feel it in your body the way I felt those sunflowers.
To help with that kind of honesty, here are five questions I’m asking myself in the studio right now:
- Do I feel this in my body? (Goosebumps, breath held, the “electric shiver” test.)
- Am I avoiding any skill because it’s hard? (Name it: values, edges, hands, fabric, color mixing.)
- If I had unlimited time, what would I push or refine? (And can I do 10% of that today?)
- Where is my voice in this piece? (A choice of color, a gesture, a mood, a story thread.)
- Is this “satisfying”… or “wow”? (What single change would move it closer to “wow”?)
And because reflection needs action, here are five small, actionable things you can do this week:
- Revisit what once moved you. Spend 10 quiet minutes with a painting, song, film, or scene. Write five words it makes you feel; use one word as your next sketch prompt.
- Study–then–spin (30 minutes). Do a tiny study of one thing you admire (a brushstroke, color harmony, edge handling). Then do a 10-minute riff in your own style.
- Micro-skill drill (15 minutes). Pick one skill you’ve been avoiding (values, hands, folds) and do quick reps—no judgment, just reps.
- No-shortcuts pass. Take one WIP and rework a small area with full patience (one eye, one curl of hair, one fold of fabric). Compare before/after.
- Make a label. Pin your piece to the wall and write a tiny museum label: title, medium, and two lines of the story behind it. (Don’t hide the story—it’s part of the art.)
There’s a line from Vincent and the Doctor I carry with me:
“He transformed the pain of his tormented life into ecstatic beauty.”
That’s not about suffering-as-aesthetic; it’s about alchemy, how craft, attention, and heart turn experience into something that radiates.
If your art has been feeling “fine” but not alive, you’re not broken; you’re just ready for the honest part. The part where you show up for the skills and the soul.
I walked out of that room with my pulse still quick, grateful for the reminder. Ten years later, the magic isn’t smaller. It’s still lightning.
With love and yellow paint in my heart,
Lux 💛🌻
P.S. Tell me about your sunflower moment. What artwork (or scene, or song) gave you that electric shiver, and what’s one tiny thing you’ll do this week to bring that feeling into your own work?
