My closest sister Karen told me there was a Van Gogh exhibit coming to one of the museums in DC, like the procrastinator I am, I waited till the last minute to get a ticket. No tickets were left, last day of the show, so I ventured alone to DC via train to stand in the will call line from hell.
I walked in the misty rain to the museum and got a little lost, but enjoyed the walk through the quiet streets. I found the huge building and was surprised NO ONE was there! I went to enter the door and a guard directed me to the right of the building to get in line. As I walked around one verrrry long side of the building I became increasingly worried at the amount of people and feared I wouldn’t make it in. Kicking my own ass around to the end of the friggin line which was a hop skip and a jump to the left of where I began. It took me at least a half an hour to walk to the end of the line…
After standing there for a few hours in the humid sticky weather, and inching forward very little, an employee came out and pointed to a sign which I couldn’t read. He said, “If you don’t reach this sign within the next 1/2 hour, you won’t make it inside.” Apparently they only allow so many people inside each day.
Hearing this upset me so bad I began to cry. I couldn’t believe I had gone all that way to not get in and see Starry Night, and angry at myself for being such a procrastinator with something so important to me. Not one to pray a whole lot, but feeling desperate, I looked up to the cloudy sky with tears streaming down my face and silently beggggged him to somehow get me in.
In a crowd like that, I tend to keep a close eye on people around me, and noticed an Asian couple approach the woman in front of me. The young man tapped her shoulder and asked if she was there alone. The woman had a hat lowered on her head, with her face stuck in a book, and was startled by this stranger. She replied, “No, my husband went for drinks.” Wondering why in the world this guy questioned her, I looked down to see ONE ticket in his hand! I immediately stated, “I’m here alone!, I took the train all the way from Baltimore, and I don’t think I’m going to get in to see the show.” Without hesitation the young man handed ME the ticket! and told me to enjoy the show as his pretty girlfriend stood beside him smiling at their good deed. My mouth had to be on the sidewalk as I dug into my pocket to offer him what little money I had, I looked up and they were gone…
The ticket had an entrance time stamped on it, which was an hour or so away, so I purchased a warm pretzel, a drink, and sat in front of the door I’d enter when it was my turn. I couldn’t have wiped that smile off my face to save my life! While sitting there a few brave sparrows begged for bites of my pretzel, and I was able to entice them to take it from my hand, which only delighted me more.
Once inside, I took as long as I pleased on each incredible painting. Seeing into the soul of a deep and lonely man, I felt so connected to him even though he’s been long dead. Pictures in books do his work no justice at all. Tears ran down my face through the entire walk of the show. I didn’t care what people thought of me, I just knew HOW f*ing lucky I was to be there!
Toward the end, I ran into the couple that gave me the ticket. They asked if I was enjoying myself, and I thanked them profusely. After our conversation, I saw it from a distance. Starry Night… the colors more vivid than any picture or print, the thickly textured oil paint applied with a pallet knife layer over layer, and a vision only Vincent could describe the way he did. It was no easy task to fight the urge to touch it, knowing if I could only graze the edge of the canvas that I would certainly feel something spectacular though the touch of my skin. Perhaps it would have been too much… accompanied with what my eyes took in and made me feel. An incredible sadness, yet the hope of peace through it’s brightest stars swirling and blending in the cobalt sky.
I stood there for the longest time, uncaring of the other viewers I stood in the way of. I got as close as I could, wanting all my senses to take it in, and save it’s true image in my mind forever. I pray I’m never too old to remember… The last painting Crows Over Cornfields was so large it took up the entire wall! Even though I had spent immeasurable amounts of time on each piece of his work, taking in all I could, I felt my time there was too short for such an event, so I backtracked to the beginning and did it all over again.
A memory I will cherish and forever be grateful of my incredible luck or answer to a prayer which ever it was.
