|The Garden at St. Joseph - Vincent, Ah hear yuh Series - Samantha Rochard|
I can't imagine what it was like for you nah boy. At least in this day and age the doctors are aware of our conditions and how to treat it. Knowing what is going on, certainly helps remove the fear a bit. But boy, de frustration though- trying to resolve what the mind wants to do when the body can't anymore! Most frustratin yes!
Vincent, yuh say something in yuh letter dated 15th May 1889. The one yuh write to yuh sister-in-law ,
:"It is rather queer perhaps that the result of this terrible attack is that there is hardly any very definite desire or hope left in my mind, and I wonder if this is the way one thinks when, with the passions lessened, one descends the hill instead of climbing it."
Boy...ah hear yuh. But I feel the hill jes' slightly less steep...it still there though. And I wonder....because to me now reaching the top means there might be nothing left to live for. With a feeling like that one tends to linger at every point of the path and it becomes about the journey upward-not reaching the top. Like a painting...is de process; not the end goal.
Still, painting gives purpose.
Landscape painting, for me- means capturing a point in time which may never exist again. For that brief moment in time that spot sparkled with a perfect beauty worthy of remembering the way I saw it and how it registered in MY mind. Perfection.
Perhaps perfection is not meant to be attained. Perhaps it is just meant to be experienced, as is, jes' so jes' so; in every moment.
But boy...you rested in St. Remy. I had to come to my parents in St. Joseph. Not a hospital, cuz this small island ah livin on doh have them thing....(well, what dey have yuh doh want to be in). But learning to live with people again is difficult. I so accustomed to quiet, no media distractions, not much conversation or ah should say the need to keep up a conversation- and now I have to deal with unwarranted intrusions to my mental musings. The continuous barrage of discussion, debate, judgement about everything- it doh help me create in any way whatsoever! It real tiring yuh no! But is meh family, an they mean well.
Vincent boy, in dis century it have things that woulda drive yuh mad! one set ah t'ing have low tones that feel like a drill in yuh eardrum. Television, radio, helicopters, pressure washers- making yuh feel like yuh getting licks auditarily (if it have such a word- like de sound beatin yuh in yuh head, nah.)
Blessings for a focus though. That we could both paint and still drag some meaning out of this existence. Blessings for you, that you could inspire purpose for me; because boy sometimes ah does feel like I being sucked under by a blackness. Wait...a better description would be like swimmin in the dark; but with no stars or anything to look toward. Just dark all around....buh yuh have to fight to keep above the water and jes t'read water till a pinpoint of light show up!
This project will keep me above water for a while. For that; ah real grateful eh Vincent!