Bernadette Murphy (3)

Though never a straight-up biography of Vincent van Gogh, Bernadette Murphy's short, conversational book about the famous artist cannot help but bring you closer to the man behind the myth. The story of the titular Van Gogh's Ear is "arguably the most famous anecdote about any artist", in many ways overshadowing the man's paintings (pg. 5), or at least providing more than significant shade to them. Realising she didn't know the story as well as she assumed – why did he cut his ear off at that time? How much did he cut off? Who was the person he tried to gift it to? – Murphy gets to work.

As I said, this is not a straight-up biography, and the book concerns itself instead with that "incredible year" when van Gogh went from reasonable stability to self-mutilation and an insane asylum, followed by suicide (pg. 39). Nor is the book an art history; discussions of van Gogh's paintings are only done when they illuminate his biographical mysteries, which is rather the opposite way round if you were looking for an introduction to the artistic importance of this painter. Being neither of these things, the book is instead an investigation – and, fortunately, it is exemplary at this. Murphy, a self-professed amateur, proves to be an adept researcher, delving into various archives and primary sources to separate fact from fiction and assumption with regards to what we know of van Gogh's turbulent final years.

The book is therefore a narrative on Murphy's pursuit of the real van Gogh, and while I usually dislike non-fiction accounts where the author makes themselves part of the story, it works well here. Murphy lives in Provence, where van Gogh lived during the infamous ear incident; the book is in some ways a love letter to the vibrant colours and clean air of that country, an affinity Murphy shares with van Gogh. Her missteps are few and we never feel as though she is in the way of the story. Instead, her assiduous researching is itself a breath of fresh air; she is not averse to delving into the minutiae of nineteenth-century French bureaucratic archives, but spares the reader the dull stuff, and whenever she has a theory that she can't prove but strongly suspects is true, she is honest in telling us this. She effectively reverse-engineers a lot of prior research done into van Gogh, trying to source the sources that other authors and historians have used, and it is this diligence which leads her to some long-overdue mythbusting and clarity on such an important figure in art history.

She calls one research breakthrough, on the petition signed by van Gogh's neighbours in Arles, a "small feather in my cap" (pg. 197), but in truth she has built up an impressive plumage by book's end. We receive definitive or near-definitive answers on many of the myths and mysteries surrounding van Gogh's ear and his final year of life, and non-sensationalist, well-researched speculation on others, including why he might have done the things he did, at the times he did them and in the ways he did them. Though no one can ever know the 'why' with any authority, Murphy's agenda-free deductions and the honest spirit in which she pursues her research journey combine to tear away some of the myths which have sprung up around this most private and sensitive of artistic geniuses. (I'd also recommend the 2017 film Loving Vincent, which, although it does support one or two of the alternative theories surrounding the artist, is an incredible visual experience.)

Through a winning share of anecdote, compassion, diligence and mystery, Murphy's book proves a great introduction. We stop seeing the well-known 'madness' as the key to understanding van Gogh's art, but instead come to realise how so much of his creativity was "in spite of his poor mental health not simply because of it" (pg. 251). We come to understand how 'van Gogh' so easily becomes the more personable 'Vincent' to those who talk about him; how he was "more than the sum of his torments" (pg. 253). Far from providing a titillating mystery of gore and anger and madness, Murphy crafts a book for the layman which ends with us not only wanting to revisit Vincent's paintings, but to put a consoling arm around the man behind them.… (mer)

A very impressive piece of historical detective work by an avowedly amateur researcher who sets out to discover exactly why Vincent Van Gogh, one December night in 1888, cut off all or part of his ear and presented it to a young lady working in a local brothel. While this most famous self-mutilation in the history of art forms the centerpiece of Bernadette Murphy's investigation, she deals at length with the whole lead-up, delving in depth into Van Gogh's life in Arles. Her research is truly impressive. By sheer hard work, sifting through acres of documents, she actually locates in the records, the real stories of the ordinary people who interacted with Van Gogh, and along the way, slays a few popular myths. This is a superb, enthralling book, that really brings Van Gogh to life, not quite the tormented genius of popular myth, but more a young man with dreams who falls catastrophically ill. Great book, a must read for any Van Gogh fan.… (mer)

If people know anything at all about Vincent Van Gogh it is presumably that he cut off his ear and committed suicide. I think when I was younger I conflated these two incidents, somehow imagining he committed suicide by cutting off his ear. They were in fact separated by a couple of years during which van Gogh’s mental health deteriorated to a fatal degree.

Though Dutch, van Gogh spent the greater part of his painting life in France, and much of it in the city of Arles in Provence. By dint of circumstance Bernadette Murphy found herself living in Provence, not far from Arles, and while recuperating from illness decided to investigate van Gogh’s time there, and the events leading to his final capitulation.

She began by trying to establish how he came to cut off his ear, and, indeed, how much of it he removed. Like me, she had originally imagined that he had cut off the whole of his ear, though some simple experimentation she decided that that would not have been possible. The local press in late nineteenth century Arles contained a few references to a disturbance involving the artist, though details were sparse. Undeterred, this simply spurred her to search further, leading her to visit the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam and contact a range of academics all around the world.

The book is fascinating, not just for what it reveals about van Gogh’s descent into madness and despair, but also as a manual for a capable amateur undertaking academic research. Murphy learns the techniques of research as she goes along, and is eager to share her discoveries. The book works on so many separate levels: not just a biography of van Gogh but a potted guide to his art, and also that of Paul Gaugin who shared lodgings with the Dutchman in ‘The Yellow House’ (which was itself the subject of many of his paintings). Murphy also gives us a brief history of Arles, and a detailed topography of Provence. She pulls all this off with considerable brio, too. Though the subject matter is often challenging, and even gory, she writes with great clarity and engages the reader from the start.… (mer)