Son of a Dutch preacher, self-harmer, madman, crank, religious maniac, alcoholic absinthe guzzler, whoremaster, syphilis sufferer, workaholic and one of the greatest artists of the 20th century. You might think Vincent Van Gogh's work, reproduced so ubiquitously, would have lost its power to surprise, but prepare to be astounded all over again by his paintings. Studio in the South focuses on his sojourn in Arles, in France, although sojourn is the wrong word. He drank coffee until he was hallucinating, clumped out to the wheatfields around the city laden like a donkey, "working", according to the nearby cafe owner, "even when eating". Nights were for the Maison de Joie and filles soumises, or prostitutes. He was an artist for only nine years and felt, on the days he didn't produce a painting, "like a madman, a scoundrel, an old fool". He sold one painting, and that was when he was in the madhouse after slashing off his ear. He died in the arms of his ever-faithful brother, Theo. He was 37. Oh my.
