Darker than usual
I do not feel like painting today
I do not feel like a painter today
I feel sick at heart
I want to do nothing with those canvases.
What use has any of art been to me, I ask myself, bitterly.
It has only wasted my time and deluded me, so it appears
Perhaps I should never have walked away from God
Art seems to have cheated me
No one even recognises the little talent I have
No one knows me
I may never be great like Rembrandt, my inspiration
I may never be known
Perhaps it is better so
Was it not I myself who reflected and wrote that
One must lose oneself to gain oneself?
Christ Jesus, whisper again those illumining words of wisdom
To this poor struggling man
Let me pass away like shadows
Chanced upon by brilliant light
I see only the darkness of my Starry Night
On these sullen skies
No twirling lights illumine my imagination
Let these shadows that are always with me be lit
By every light, by every star
May I see what I ought to
And not what I imagine
'Colours are there for a reason',
One man once taught me
Those secrets of art evade me
I am no artist
I am perhaps a ne'er-do-well
And my name may not even outlive my death
But Thou,
O Christ Jesus, be Thou my light
Be Thou the light of every colour to me
And that will suffice for me.
The rest I leave unto Thee
For generations come and generations go,
Artists rise and artists fall,
But Thou art ever constant.
And that is enough for me.
What is more brilliant than
The beauty of my paintings is
The Beauty of my God.
Thou are infinite, inexhaustible, ever-new Beauty, and
Thou, O Lord, art enough for me.
And the rest, I leave unto Thee
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