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VIDEO: Noapte instelata, Don Mc.Lean si… Vincent van Gogh

Click for the next Vincent van Gogh gallery.

Vincent van Gogh -”Noapte instelata (Starry night)”-Iunie 1889

Pictura in ulei pe panza.Dimensiuni: 92 x 70 cm

Marele pictor olandez Vincent van Gogh s-a nascut  la  30 martie 1853 si a murit pe  29 iulie 1890 ,in localitatea  Auvers sur Oise din  Franța .

Tatăl lui era pastor protestant, iar mama provenea dintr-o familie de pictori și negustori de artă.In tinerete pictorul a studiat teologia ,pe care a abandonat-o,dedicandu-se picturii.

Artistul a trait in mizerie,recunoasterea valorii operei sale venind abia dupa moartea acestuia ,care a survenit la varsta de 37 de ani.In timpul vietii nu a reusit sa vanda decat unul dintre tablourile sale.

Cartea Genezei (37:9) ne spune :

“Iosif a mai visat un alt vis, şi l-a istorisit fraţilor săi. El a zis: “Am mai visat un vis! Soarele, luna, şi unsprezece stele se aruncau cu faţa la pământ înaintea mea.”

Mulţi cred că  trairea  religioasa a artistului se reflecta si  în simbolistica celor unsprezece stele,infatisate in  pictura Noapte instelata (Starry night), pe care am reprodus-o aici.

Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of china blue.

Tabloul  Starry night l-a inspirat pe  Don McLean , muzicianul care ne ofera acest cantec frumos ,in care muzica se ingemaneaza melancolic cu poezia, imprumutand peste timp ceva din culorile si trairile marelui olandez plecat de mult dintre noi,VINCENT VAN GOGH…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer’s day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they’ll listen now.

Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of china blue.
Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they’ll listen now.

For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you.

Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can’t forget.
Like the strangers that you’ve met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they’re not listening still.
Perhaps they never will…


 

 

10/02/2012 Posted by | DIVERTSMENT | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Lasă un comentariu

   

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