Poppy

Vincent Van Gogh once said, "If a painting seems too simple, you just haven't looked at it long enough". For his paintings this is definitely true. I've applied this quote as my understanding of people as well. It's become the basis of most characters I write about or try to develop. People, like snowflakes and art are all unique. Art reveals not only what's being depicted, but how the one depicting it see's something.

One particular painting of his, I've looked at so long, I could swear I hear the artist himself. However, I know there are others that are aware of it's intimate stories. As obsessed as me with it. After all, a painting, so simple, doesn't go missing and attract such schemes with out housing some special importance. It speaks to the true viewer, to the heart of those with a heart.

The first encounter I ever had with Poppy was through a book at the library. It was a book about art. I thumbed the pages, flipping through, perusing the pictures as I knelt on my shins in an aisle. Rows of books rising on shelves around me, concealing me from all others. I was not fully invested in researching or reading anything. I was simply taking a break from researching and saw a book, misplaced, that seemed interesting. I wasn't finding anything useful for the paper I was working on. I decided to look at the misplaced one I had noticed. I believed in things like fate and serendipitous acts back then. The colors caught my attention as I thumbed through. It seemed simple enough, a vase with yellow and red flowers. However, there was something peculiar about how it was arranged. The peculiar arrangement and stark contrasts drew me in. It seemed to ask the viewer to further investigate it. To notice it's two bright colors on a dark drab brown backdrop. To really see the details and purpose behind the colors and chosen arrangement. To see it through Vincent's eye's and then Poppy's. They own the story being told. 

Let me introduce you to Poppy Flowers. A painting that says more by looking at it than I could ever do justice to as a writer. This painting and others like it is where the old adage, "A picture is worth a thousands words" comes from, I'm sure, and it made me a believer. I will tell you the two most important stories it tells.

Supposedly the painting originates from his respect for Adolphe Monticelli. An artist who influenced him in Paris. One could picture him learning from others during his days there. While also collecting flowers during the day as he scouted sites to paint. Flowers acting as small treasures of beauty to decorate with for a struggling artist. A young man, learning the ways of the world, trying to harness a craft, once entered into self employment, and struggling.

On one hand the painting is a teaching tool, on the other hand it is a tale about a girl and Vincent, I presume a prostitute or one equated to such. He was known to have prostitute companions.

The story Poppy Flowers tells is about society. The bunches of yellow flowers that jettison out from the bunch all actually fit quite perfectly in the spots devoid of flowers in the arrangement, as if plucked from those spots. This obvious peculiarity is the viewers first clue something more is on display than just flowers. If it were just flowers, those would be tucked in neatly, creating a more beautiful aesthetic. The lower corner of the boquet has three red flowers, two which are wilted downward. A large, a medium and a small baby bud. This is symbolic of a "red" father, mother and child. The mother and child are facing down, wilted and seemingly disgraced, symbolic heads hung in shame. I believe the bouquet represents families in society. Some families wanted to move up in society so they shamed one family (the red) in order to take their place at the top. The father of the red is distant from society, but not as Shameful as the mother and child. However, as a bunch they are further outside, away, instead of tucked in nicely with the rest.  The round vase represents earth and the flowers inside the vase are symbolic of people populating earth. The arrangement represents a closer look at a specific group. Like a bubble microscope diagram in a text book. Paintings, sculptures, and the Bible were the first textbooks afterall. So Vincent lent purpose to his painting, as well as intrigue. Much like the subject, Poppy, being showcased.

Now let me introduce Poppy. To see Poppy and gain the story behind the teaching lesson you must turn the painting upside down. Then you meet Poppy. There, as the only light in a dark room, is Poppy. She is in a yellow dress with a red scarf.  A broken halo around her head, or possibly bald, loosing her hair to illness or lack of nutrition. The red scarf, a symbol of her status as a prostitute .or one with polluted blood However, to Vincent, he saw her as the light in the room, vibrant and beautiful. However, Poppy is dangerous because the beauty hides the darkness. Providing richness where none exists. The four bunches of yellow flowers, representative of people, now at the top of the bouquet and society, are stuck in poppy's mind. This is depicted by the flowers inside the vase representing her head. Maybe as revenge, as longing, as knowledge of what they helped do or did, as teachers or a mix of those, placed them forever in her mind. Only Poppy knows, the painting, and Vincent who gives us parts of the story through this portrait. Interestingly enough, I believe the poppies are the only true flowers in the painting. The others, I believe, are from a tree branch with flowering yellow flowers found in the area. Possibly adding to the commentary about society, and family branches or networks. The power of networks and how they can be manipulated to gain status or take status. Poppy is complex like the painting that displays her, begging the attention of others, asking the viewer to understand her and her situation. Vincent and her, hoping to help others be wary of the ways of society and it's hierarchy. Vincent changes the context of a taboo person and subject to make it viewable, as flowers, to all, inviting even. A master at bridging the ranks of class, in his works, which he had experience with through his experiences and encounters in life. The painting tricks the viewer into viewing it's commentary, possibly as he was by the beauty. Then it allows for discovery and the finding of the lesson underneath after recognition of it's beauty, but the beauty still exists. The girl or woman is still the illumination in a dark place.

Vincent's name is written in the same color as the Poppy flowers to show how this is his story as much as hers.

Now to present. I was sitting in my dark bedroom, only getting up to use the bathroom and complete daily chores. As I walked to the bathroom I didn't bother turning on any lights. I stared at a blank wall as I sat to pee, Ultimately deciding a piece of art belonged there. I'd looked, but never could decide on anything. I know it doesn't sound like an important place that warrants much thought, but many times the only place I get to meditate is while I pee. One or two minutes to regroup before rejoining the days bustle and hustle. At this particular time I had just gone through one of the most disappointing times in my life.

I looked to art, to the stories found in it when media and T.V. wasn't offering me anything positive. I searched through stacks of paintings, one in front of the other at home good stores. There were many nice works, but devoid of feeling I was looking for. Nothing really stood out. I looked at fine art. Depressing myself further when I realized the price is out of reach currently for me, even if it is an investment. I looked into auctions, but finding the time and courage to go alone seemed daunting. Day after day, I pee, I look at an empty wall. The blank space becoming a reminder at my inability to complete even the simplest task of hanging art on a wall. Obviously choosing art is personal and not at all easy, but in my state I saw it as another thing I was lacking. Another disappointing quality, as irrational as that is. Another task staring me down each day as incomplete. Avoiding showering and peeing wasn't an option as a functioning member of society. I didn't like that the blank space was getting the best of me, ruining my meditation.

I go back to the table. I take a break from my spreadsheet and open chrome. Typing in missing stolen paintings. I wanted to see what others wanted so bad they'd steal for it. Something rare and maybe a little precious. I begin my search. I open the first clickable headline.

Scroll, scroll, old art, old art, biblical, interesting, nothing for my wall.

I click back. Second clickable headline. Start scrolling. There it is again. Drawing me in. This time with the story of it's heist and unknown wareabouts. Poppy is a desired woman and missing. I follow the trail of clickable resources, trying to put the master puzzle of this painting together. Poppy has now enthralled me, as I suspect she did Vincent Van Gogh. I read blogs and newspaper clips. All culminating with me sitting back in my chair staring at Poppy. Right side up, then flipped, then right side, until I too love Poppy and what she has to teach. What she and Vincent are telling through a simple vase of flowers.

I know the painting is missing and highly out of my price range, so a reprint would be my option. I search known art museums and local museums unsuccessfully. I check laws dealing with reprinting, etc. However, I'm not selling it and I doubt my bathroom wall is much importance to anyone. Any how, I find a site I can dowload it from and upload to another site to get it printed.

By the end of the day I found a modern interpretation of Mayans art that would look great in the gym I dont yet have and a sketch great for an office I don't yet have. I found a handful of paintings I don't have the wall space for, but at some point need to own, as well as a deep admiration for the painting of Poppy Flowers. The other paintings seemed worthy of introducing to Vincent and Poppy. Things of interest from around the world with unique perspectives and stories.

Finally, I picked up my print. Hung it on the wall. I look at it every time I pee, brush my teeth or wash my face. Some days it's a bouquet and other days it's Poppy in the yellow dress.
Every morning I wake I look towards Vincent and Poppy. It reminds me there is so much cruelty hidden behind the beauty of the world, but the beauty makes it liveable. It's when all beauty is gone that life is unbearable and one is done. Luckily, the simplest things can be so much more, like a vase of flowers. Everyday I look at my painting hoping Vincent and Poppy will reveal more secrets that I've overlooked.

Some days you can almost picture Vincent Van Gogh sitting with his prostitute companion, in the dark, due to money shortages discussing life, things they've seen and the duality of it all. Knowing the power of perspective, which after all is Poppy Flowers strength.





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