The artist and writer, Henry Martin, discusses his new book Vincent van Gogh and the Good Samaritan …
How did this book come about?
I was in the Kröller-Müller Museum in the Netherlands, admiring their huge collection of van Gogh paintings, when I found one that I had never seen before. The characters wore ‘Biblical’ clothing, which was unusual for van Gogh. On closer inspection, I recognised the Good Samaritan, hoisting a wounded man onto his mule. And there close to the foreground was another figure, the Levite. After a bit of searching I found the dim and distant Priest, just about to walk out of shot. This was back in 2011 and even then, questions appeared in my mind, ‘Why did he chose this scene?’, ‘Hadn’t he turned his back on religion’? I checked the date and saw that it had been painted in 1890, just before his death and long after his religious phase had ended. I bought a print and moved on. Only something about this picture kept on returning to me.
Rolling forward to December 2019, the idea for this book fell into my mind, almost fully formed. I asked myself, ‘What strange alchemy might occur when this great 19th Century story meets an even greater story, one which dates to the dawn of Christianity and is possibly the most famous of all the parables told by Jesus of Nazareth?’ I saw a plan: a chapter on each of the characters, interwoven with facts from van Gogh’s life and further insights into the parable. I then spent three months reading his letters and making copious notes, which was an incredibly enjoyable experience – at least for me, probably less so than for those around me, who found themselves bombarded with ‘fascinating’ snippets of van Gogh trivia. The first draft of the book came relatively quickly after this, but then went through several serious revisions as I read more about him and thought more deeply about the parable.
What is it beyond the art that makes van Gogh so enduringly popular?
Without the art no one would be interested… but there is more to it than just the art. There is also van Gogh’s story, which ticks so many boxes. He is an archetypal underdog; the unrecognised genius, scorned in his own lifetime by a world unaware of his great talent. There is tragedy; the young man who mutilated his ear and then took his own life. There is irony; the painter who struggled with poverty, whose works now sell for millions. Added to this, we have incredible access to his most personal thought through his many letters. These reveal the depths of his character, his hopes, ambitions, loves, fears and frustrations, giving us unprecedented insights into the life of a 19th Century artist.
When did van Gogh paint the Good Samaritan and what do we know about his faith?
Vincent had an interesting relationship with faith. Up until his mid-twenties his one ambition was to be a Christian minister. This all changed following a series of misadventures, which left him embittered against organised religion, but still believing in God. His new vision of God was based on his hopes, his observations of life, his love of nature and his continuing respect for Jesus of Nazareth. He was not one for biblical scenes, preferring to paint from life. But towards the end of his life, whilst in the asylum at St Rémy and deprived of models, he took to copying the work of artists whom he respected, such as Rembrandt, Millet and Delacroix. In this way he ended up producing a few biblical scenes, one of which was the Good Samaritan.
Was it van Gogh’s own woundedness that connected him with the parable?
I suspect that Vincent related to the parable at many different levels. The book is essentially an exploration of this idea. Earlier in his life, he made certain decisions that indicated he was modelling himself on the Good Samaritan. Later, especially after the incident with his ear, he was very much aware of his woundedness, both physically and mentally. I find it fascinating that in this painting, he resembles both the wounded man and the Samaritan. He left no commentary in his letters, to reveal his thoughts about this piece. I have taken this as an invitation to ask questions and speculate on his many possible reactions to each character, as he painted.
Can art help us heal – mentally and/or spiritually?
Van Gogh found the act of painting to be soothing. From my own experience, I can testify that creative work can open the doors to healing, but as with all things, moderation is the key. Vincent became as obsessive about his art, as he had been about his religious vocation and his quests for romantic love. Art helped him through these, but art alone was not enough. Too much art became a bad thing. He wrote to his brother, Theo, ‘‘Art is jealous, she won’t accept second place to any illness, so I give in to her demands. People like me aren’t actually allowed to be sick … Art demands relentless work - work despite anything else and always constant observation.’ (Letter 218 (249), to Theo 21/7/1882) These are not the words of someone with an altogether healthy relationship with his ‘cure’.
Do you have to be or feel ‘whole’ to be able to truly help others?
This question takes my mind initially away from van Gogh and back to my years as a Prison Chaplain. I met there many wounded and damaged souls, who were able to be of great help to those around them. Perhaps those who have not suffered much, struggle to find empathy with those who are floundering. Whereas those who feel less than ‘whole’ are often able to view their neighbours’ wounds with far greater compassion. Christianity is the religion of those who follow the crucified Lord, who still bears the marks of his torment. It is not a faith for the perfect, needing confirmation of their shininess, but rather for the flawed and damaged, seeking healing.
To return to the question, there is a difference between ‘truly help’ and ‘rescue’. In the book I have highlighted a couple of notable occasions when Vincent set out to rescue others, in ways that were unsustainable and ultimately unhelpful. I think the recipe for helping others is less about feeling ‘whole’ and more about a balance of compassion, teamwork and self-awareness within fair boundaries.
Why is Jesus’s command to ‘go and do likewise’ like the Good Samaritan not always as straightforward as it sounds?
Just try walking down a street in Manchester city centre on a winter’s evening. Any lone wannabe Good Samaritan is not going to get far, without becoming emotionally swamped and drained of resources. It is as hard for any individual to ‘go and do likewise’ as it is for a rich person to sell all their possessions and give the proceeds to the poor. The parable came about when a lawyer asked Jesus the question, ’And who is my neighbour?’. Jesus’ answer is a story, constructed with utmost care but which seems to answer an entirely different question. Jesus often did things like this, refusing to be pinned down by someone else’s agenda. I spend the final (and longest) chapter in the book exploring this very point. Van Gogh remains prominent, but the major findings here are more related to the parable – that is until the very end, where of course, he has the final word.
Henry Martin is an artist, writer and ordained Anglican minister. His has written the acclaimed books Eavesdropping and Alongside, and he has also illustrated Brian Sibley’s book Joseph and the Three Gifts. He has worked in ministry in Dagenham, Salford and most recently for seven years as the Managing Chaplain at HMP Manchester (Strangeways).
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