Van Gough- faction

FACTION - VINCENT VAN GOUGH.

Vincent Van Gough 1853-1890, Dutch artist was a passionate
man. His paintings are making vast sums today though in his
lifetime he made little money. His temperament was undulant
and he often turned to persecuting himself when things
didn't go right. he fell in and out of love on a regular
basis but women were not attracted to him because he had bad
breath. he cut off his ear in a fit of pique when a young
lady told him about his problem.
Another, Rite was a beautiful girl, and she was clever
too. Unlike other girls she longed to please Vincent and
would bring flowers by the armful to his humble home and she
thrilled when he painted them for her, so perpetuating their
beauty. The flowers perfumed his studio and had a becalming
effect on the artist as he worked.
One day she collected several large sunflowers and
because the stems were long and difficult to handle she cut
them off. Vincent flew into a rage a berated her for her
stupidity. God had given the sunflowers long stems; who was
she to tear them off leaving them sad and vulnerable on
short ones to which they weren't accustomed? 'You have
reduced the kings of the garden to the status of paupers.
You should be ashamed,' he told her.
Why do you bring me flowers like this? They aren't
delicate like daisies, they don't smell like bluebells, they
aren't pure like snowdrops. Their only asset was their size
and you have stripped them of it. You are a fool. I shall
paint them like this and you will not be able to forget how
stupid you are.'
Rite was upset by his outburst but when she arrived next
day with daffodils and tulips he showed her the picture he
was working on. He had put the sunflowers in a pot and
although their huge heads were drooping slightly they were
beginning to look like the kings of the garden again.
'The painting is so good,' she said, 'I think you will
sell it.'
'I think not. Nobody buys my paintings of flowers
because I cannot paint their perfume.'
'The maybe they will buy this painting because there was
no scent to paint, who cares about the smell? I adore the
petals, I love the leaves, I love the sepals and the stems.
Those flowers are beautiful though they have no scent. God
thought of everything when he made flowers. If only he had
thought of everything when he made me. He forgot to give me
a sense of smell.'
'Poor Rite are you saying you really cannot smell?'
'Sadly no,' said Rite. 'I have never been able to smell
anything.'
'Why, that is marvellous,' cried Vincent. 'I love you so
much, Rite. Do you think you could ever love me?'
'Of course I love you Vincent,' Rite replied, 'What ever
made you think I could not?'

487 words.