
“At present I absolutely want to paint a starry sky. It often seems to me that night is still more richly coloured than the day; having hues of the most intense violets, blues and greens. If only you pay attention to it you will see that certain stars are lemon-yellow, others pink or a green, blue and forget-me-not brilliance. And without my expatiating on this theme it is obvious that putting little white dots on the blue-black is not enough to paint a starry sky.”
― Vincent van Gogh (30 March 1853 – 29 July 1890)
Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze, Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of china blue.
Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand.
“Vincent” by Don McLean; see more at vanGoghgallery.com
It’s my husband’s birthday today, too. His name is Bob, though. Not Vincent. And I am sitting in bed (with a wicked headache) drinking coffee from a mug that depicts “The Starry Night.” How’s that for coincidence?
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Starry Night Over the Rhone is another favorite of mine.
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“Starry night” is one of my favorites. But reading those lines aloud felt so great!
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