Vincent and Paul – Van Gogh at the National Gallery (V)

I’m often puzzled by the assertion that Van Gogh and Paul Cézanne are stylistically and psychologically very different artists. Perhaps this owes something to the idea that the Frenchman is difficult and harder to grasp, whilst the Dutch artist is more accessible and direct. Looking at many of the paintings in this exhibition - and recalling my visits to the wonderful Tate Modern Cézanne exhibition a few years ago - I feel vindicated in my view that they were artistic cousins.

Van Gogh, Landscape at Saint-Rémy (1889)

In particular, looking at Landscape at Saint-Rémy (Enclosed Field with Peasant) found me, mobile phone in hand, flashing up Cézanne’s various depictions of Mont Sainte-Victoire. The colour palette, the obsession with a particular view, the gentle but mesmerising way of dividing up the landscape - the Dutchman’s brushstrokes exploiting curving lines of beauty, contrasting with Cézanne’s near-demarcation of the canvas - all of this spoke of a similar artistic sensibility.   

Paul Cézanne, Montagne Sainte-Victoire (1890)

If there is one major difference, and maybe this holds the key to the argument over their supposed lack of artistic affinity, it is the absence of the human figure in Cézanne’s work. Van Gogh’s peasant provides a locus and supplies you with an inner starting point (although on first viewing, my eye didn’t quite parse the wheatsheaf, and I thought that I was looking at two figures). 

Van Gogh, detail from Landscape at Saint-Rémy

You work outwards from the peasant, almost as if you are placing yourself in his shoes. Indeed, such is the power of the painting, you imagine yourself taking care with your feet as they toil over the uneven ground. The stubble of the field snips away at your ankles and shins. The heat beats down on your face and the dry climate and backbreaking work leaves you thirsty. With the Cézanne, you are initially placed at a distance. You must work your way into the painting from the outside.