1,001 Pieces

Next week I turn 37. By the time he was my age, Vincent van Gogh had already lost his mind, spent time locked up in an asylum, cut off an ear, and created thousands of pieces of artwork, all of which were completely underappreciated in his lifetime.

Let’s see, by comparison I have:

Lost my mind? Check.

Been locked up? Yes, but briefly, not asylum style.

Cut off an ear? Not yet. I just haven’t found the proper motivation for ear mutilation.

Created thousands of pieces of artwork? Not even a little bit.

Been underappreciated in my lifetime? Only by the men that I would like to date. Otherwise everyone seems to over-appreciate me no matter how much I tell them I’m not that great.

I can’t say that I’m sad that Vincent and I are not leading parallel lives, especially considering that he died by suicide at age 37. In general I am not looking to follow in his footsteps, but there is something about van Gogh that I admire.

For one thing, I love his work. To be clear I know little to nothing about art, art history, the different eras, styles, what have you. I frankly do not care enough to learn about those things, but I know what I like looking at. I know what I think is pretty or striking and van Gogh’s work is among my favorites. In fact I have taken to decorating my apartment with some of van Gogh’s pieces in the form of 1,000 piece puzzles.

In high school at my sister’s boyfriend’s house I discovered the idea of framing up completed puzzles and hanging them as artwork around the home. This was something that I believe his mother did as a hobby and I liked the concept. Why put all of that work into putting together a puzzle only to take it apart again and store in a box, never to be seen again?

Several years later I received a puzzle of The Starry Night, which I put together on the coffee table in my dad’s living room. It took about two months and when it was finally finished I refused to move the puzzle until I had a frame of the right size to be able to preserve it forever. The swirls and brushstrokes in the night sky, while beautiful, were quite infuriating in puzzle format, all looking the same yet also completely different. Once framed, it was hung over my bed. When I moved into my apartment it was hung on the wall over my desk where it can be seen from several different vantage points.

Some time later I got another van Gogh puzzle around Christmastime, although I’m pretty sure I bought this one for myself. It was Cafe Terrace at Night, a very fitting piece to hang in a kitchen, which is where I intended to put mine. I cleared off my kitchen table and set to work putting the pieces together. During the chilly winter nights I found great joy in working on this puzzle, maddened though I was by the difficulty of it. Even though the colors in the piece vary greatly, there are wide stretches of the painting that are just as crazy-making as The Starry Night. But I was focused and persevered and accomplished the puzzle in about a month. It now hangs in my kitchen.

The walls of my apartment are decorated in a mishmash of artwork. Some are pieces that I’ve purchased at various comic book conventions, fan art related to stories and universes that I love. There is a wall of family photos in my living room, a collection that I fear will soon outgrow the open space remaining on that wall. I have one random poster that a friend gave me when he was cleaning out his storage unit. It’s hanging on the wall mostly because I didn’t like the big blank space, but it’s very random and is truly a placeholder. It hangs there waiting to be replaced by what I know will be another of my van Gogh puzzles.

There are two more puzzles on the docket for completion. Still in the box is Starry Night over the Rhone. Honestly I don’t know why I’m doing that one to myself, it’s going to be very frustrating. The one currently splayed out on my kitchen table is Almond Blossoms. She’s a tricky one as well. You might think it would be simple to follow the branches and put them together first, then the flowers, and then finally the background. Truth be known it is far from simple and I’ve been working on this puzzle since January (sometimes ignoring it for weeks at a time out of frustration). Eventually when both puzzles are finished I will have a piece of van Gogh’s work hanging in each of the four main rooms of my apartment.

Each of the four paintings that I have/will have hanging in my home were painted from 1888 to 1890, the last two years of Vincent’s life. That’s when he produced the majority of his paintings, but it is also a time when he was struggling so very much both personally and mentally. The Starry Night actually depicts the view from his room in the asylum. He was not well at all and yet produced one of the most recognizable and celebrated pieces of art in the western world. That he was not appreciated in his lifetime I will never understand.

I find it lovely that such beauty can come from a mind so tortured. I think this is why I like to see his work so often. They hang on the wall as a reminder that through suffering and pain, beauty is delivered. In other words, it’s not bad to be a little bit crazy. Something good can come of it.

I am not as talented nor anywhere near as tortured as Vincent van Gogh, but I am suspicious that my current Vincent puzzle is trying to make me so. There are two of the same piece for the Almond Blossoms puzzle. It is mostly blue with two little pink petals from the blossoms. As I was holding the piece up to the picture trying to find where it belonged, I realized that I knew exactly where it belonged because I had already placed it’s identical twin in the proper spot. I sat there holding the duplicate piece and wondered what it meant. Did it mean that another piece of the puzzle was missing? Was I going to get to 999 pieces in place only to find that the one thousandth piece wouldn’t fit in the final spot? The only way to find out is to finish the puzzle, but I cannot possibly describe how upset I will be if I end up with an incomplete image. Not only will I have spent more than half a year working on a project for no reason, but I will not have this beautiful picture to hang up in my home reminding me that a little bit of crazy, a little bit of chaos, is okay. Even lovely.

I am desperately hopeful that there are 1,001 pieces in this particular puzzle box, that I will be left with one extra piece rather than one piece short. If not I might finally get around to taking off one of my ears.

Birthday Rules

Large Metal Objects