Staring Straight at the Sun – Van Gogh at The National Gallery (IX)

Maybe it’s just my experience, but when children first start to paint and draw, they have a tendency to place the sun in the top left hand corner of the page. For those kids that grow up to be artists, it’s a habit that seems to linger. Or rather, the actual sun itself is pushed out of the frame altogether, and the light comes in from the margins. It’s therefore quite rare to find the light exploding out of the middle, let alone the sun itself appearing, in all its glory, centre stage. Van Gogh had no qualms in taking up that gauntlet.  

 

Van Gogh, Olive Trees (1889)

 

In the final room of this exhibition, there was around five different takes on olive trees. This seemed to demand that you pick a favourite. Mine just happened to be the one that gave pride of place to the sun. And not just the small ball of fire top-centre, but the profusion of rays that lit up the landscape, making those bold black and blue shadows thrown forward by the trees possible.  

Likewise, even towards the evening, a full on sun often makes an appearance in Van Gogh’s art. I’ve already written about the painting that dazzled me on my first visit to the exhibition, but it’s worth reminding yourself just how curious and striking the sun is in The Sower. 

Van Gogh, The Sower (1889)

My favourite on this theme though is a painting that I’m familiar with, as its permanent home is at the National Gallery. 

 

Van Gogh, Landscape with Ploughman (1889)

Seeing Landscape with Ploughman in the midst of so many other paintings by the artist caused me to look at it afresh, and its autumnal vibes struck a gorgeous, melancholy note. The sun is just about to set in this painting, and the black shadow of the ploughman and his horse - look how the horse seems to turn towards us - allow you to sense that the sting has finally gone out of the day. What remains are the colours of the field itself, soft and subdued - purple and gold and grey (how often do we just look at the sunset and never what lies beneath it?) - and that subtle flurry of red flowers in the bottom left. The melancholy comes with the knowledge - as always with the shortening days - that those colours are about to fade and disappear.