Whole Being: Life Alchemy
Being, Belonging, Becoming
Big Yellow Sun
To look at the stars always makes me dream. – Vincent van Gogh
Vincent van Gogh is often described in fragments: the tortured genius, the misunderstood artist, the man who cut off his ear. These fragments, though captivating, fail to encompass the totality of his brilliance. He wasn’t simply “crazy” or hallucinating; he was attuned to the essence of life, perceiving a reality that most of us only glimpse. Through bold yellows, turbulent swirls, and thick, palpable brushstrokes, van Gogh painted not the world as it appeared but the world as it thrived—alive, luminous, and trembling with energy.
Standing before The Mulberry Tree at the Norton Simon Museum, I am struck by the vitality pulsing through the canvas. This is no static representation of a tree; it’s an explosion of light and life, a moment captured in motion. The golden leaves whip through a cobalt sky, their movement so vivid it feels like the air around me might shift. At its base, a mysterious stone rests—a tombstone, perhaps, or simply a fragment of the earth. I find myself wondering if the tree draws its strength from what is buried beneath, its roots nourished by decay, its branches erupting into light. Van Gogh didn’t paint a tree; he painted its life force, its essence, its song.
His works transcend simple representation. Van Gogh once wrote to his brother Theo, “I have a terrible lucidity at moments these days, when nature is so beautiful. I am not conscious of myself anymore, and the picture comes to me as in a dream.” This lucidity, this mystical connection to the flow of universal life, infuses every brushstroke. He didn’t paint stars; he painted the spiraling energy of galaxies, the ripples of creation itself. He didn’t paint fields; he painted the pulse of the earth, the interplay of roots and sunlight.
Van Gogh’s yellows have long been a subject of fascination. Was it xanthopsia, a visual distortion caused by digitalis? Or absinthe, clouding his sight with golden halos? Perhaps, but these explanations feel reductive. Van Gogh loved yellow. He wielded it as a language, a vibration, a key to unlock emotion. In his Night Café, he described the colors as a “hellish furnace” meant to evoke the dark corners of human despair, yet tempered by the gaiety of Japanese prints he so admired. Yellow was not just a color for him; it was a medium of meaning.
To view his work through the lens of process thought, van Gogh was painting becoming itself, the continual transformation of life, the interplay of decay and creation. His swirling skies and dynamic landscapes remind us that the world is alive, not static. Each star, each tree, each stroke is part of an unfolding story, a dance of energy and matter that defies simple categorization.
Van Gogh’s art demands something of the viewer: to step beyond the surface, to feel the rhythm of existence. Standing before The Starry Night, we sense the cosmos moving, stars whispering their ancient secrets, waves of energy rippling across time. It’s as if van Gogh tapped into the primordial forces of the universe, translating them into pigment and canvas.
Outside my window, a California live oak stretches its massive branches. I see it differently now, thanks to van Gogh. It doesn’t simply stand, it endures, sways, breathes. It drums its presence into the earth, even as the Santa Ana winds threaten to strip its leaves. Van Gogh teaches us to look not at the world but into it, to see the energy beneath the surface, the interconnectedness of all things.
Mystical consciousness, as described by art historian Naomi Margois Maurer, allows one to perceive the unity of nature and the flow of life itself. Van Gogh lived in this state, where rational thought gives way to direct experience, to the terrible lucidity that lets us glimpse the sacred in the everyday.
In a way, van Gogh reminds us that art is not about seeing but about feeling. As Edgar Degas said, “Art is not what you see, but what you make others see.” And van Gogh made us see life as it truly is—raw, vibrant, and eternal. His work invites us into the great mystery of existence, asking us to step beyond logic and into the rhythm of creation.
When I look at van Gogh’s paintings, I don’t just see yellows and swirls. I see the heartbeat of the cosmos, the sacred dance of light and shadow, decay and renewal. I see life, pulsing with risk, potentiality, and the unfathomable gift of becoming.
Blog II: Circular Yellow Swirls
There has long been speculation by the eyecare community about Van Gogh’s eyesight and why he used so much yellow in his paintings. Some have suggested that he may have been over-treated with a medication called digitalis. In toxic yet non-lethal doses, digitalis is known to cause Xanthopsia, commonly referred to as ‘yellow vision.’ The extensive list of disorders treated with the medication during that period include headaches, mental illness, nausea, melancholy and inflammation of the eyes, just to name a few. We know from Van Gogh’s own letters that he suffered from mental illness and that he often complained about his eyes, so digitalis causing the yellow vision is entirely possible.
Another theory about his yellow vision is that it could have been caused by absinthe, a known side effect from excessive drinking of the potent liquor. Absinthe was very popular in France at that time, with bars actually hosting ‘the hour of absinthe’.
Maybe, just maybe, none of this is true. Perhaps Vincent Van Gogh just loved the color YELLOW.
Another visual effect in Van Gogh’s paintings is the halo swirling effect as seen in his painting, The Starry Night. It has been suggested that he may have suffered from lead poisoning, caused by the use of lead-based paints used at that time. One visual symptom of lead poisoning is the swelling of the retina, causing a halo effect around lights. Others have suggested that Van Gogh suffered from narrow angle glaucoma attacks which can also cause colored halos. Of course, cataracts cause halos around lights at night but since Van Gogh committed suicide at the early age of 37, it is unlikely that he had cataracts.
Van Gogh was also quite famous for his multitude of Self Portraits. He painted over 30 ‘selfies’, but his choice of his eye color varied from portrait to portrait. Some have hinted that he might have had 2 different colored eyes. Or perhaps he was just colorblind and didn’t really know the true color his eyes.
Whatever is the case…he certainly had an eye for beautiful paintings.
Van Gogh's appreciation for vibrant colors and their interplay was profound, partly inspired by Japanese prints. These prints influenced his technique, encouraging the use of large, flat areas of bold, monochromatic tones accentuated by strong, often black, contours. Through his extensive correspondence, consisting of over 2000 letters, van Gogh provided insights into the essence of his art and his inner world. He articulated that in his later works, realism took a back seat; instead, he sought to evoke emotions such as sensitivity, intensity, or disquietude solely through the juxtaposition of colors, transcending the need for faithful representation of subjects.
For instance, ‘The Night Café’ (1888), characterized by its yellow tonality, depicts the nondescript interior of a half-empty café.
However, its colors bear a deeper meaning, as the artist describes in one of his letters:
“In my painting of The Night Café I’ve tried to express the idea that the café is a place where you can ruin yourself, go mad, commit crimes. Anyway, I tried with contrasts of delicate pink and blood-red and wine-red. Soft Louis XV and Veronese green contrasting with yellow greens and hard blue greens. All of that in an ambience of a hellish furnace, in pale sulphur. To express something of the power of the dark corners of a grog-shop. And yet with the appearance of Japanese gaiety and Tartarin’s good nature.”
But could there be some other reason for the circular yellow swirls in Van Gogh's paintings? Extracted from foxgloves, digitalis was once used as a treatment for epilepsy.
could a side effect have triggered the artist’s “yellow period”? Could it be some other illness?
Art and vision share an intimate relationship, where the act of painting and its observation both rely heavily on visual perception for full appreciation.
In this Seasons adventure in art the focus shifts to Vincent van Gogh's experience of "yellow vision." Xanthopsia, a condition marked by a predominant yellow bias in vision, can stem from various causes, including certain medications and medical conditions (Lee, 1981). Roman scholars associated "seeing yellow" with mental instability, while later theories attributed it to physiological factors such as jaundice (Trevor-Roper, 1997).
Van Gogh's renowned oeuvre, characterized by vibrant colors, notably his prominent use of yellow, invites speculation about his visual perception. Despite over 150 posthumous diagnoses, including bipolar disorder and temporal lobe epilepsy (Blumer, 2002), medical historians suggest digitalis-induced xanthopsia as a likely affliction during his stay at the asylum (Marmor & Ravin, 2009).
However, doubts arise regarding the role of digitalis in van Gogh's color palette. Dr. Gachet's cautious approach to medication and van Gogh's consistent use of yellow predating his asylum admission challenge the hypothesis (Smith). Furthermore, van Gogh's correspondence emphasizes his deliberate color choices for expressive purposes rather than visual impairment (Bakker & Jansen, 2010).
Critics also propose subacute angle closure glaucoma as a potential cause of van Gogh's visual distortions, yet evidence from his letters contradicts this notion (Marmor & Ravin, 2009).
Ultimately, van Gogh's art transcends mere visual representation, inviting viewers to perceive beyond the surface. As Edgar Degas aptly remarked, "Art is not what you see, but what you make others see."
Van Gogh's mastery lies not in his visual acuity but in his ability to evoke emotion and meaning through color and form.
References
Lee, T. C. (1981). Van Gogh’s vision. Digitalis intoxication? JAMA, 245(7), 727–729.
Trevor-Roper, P. (1997). The World Through Blunted Sight (3rd ed.). London: Souvenir Press.
Blumer, D. (2002). The Illness of Vincent van Gogh. American Journal of Psychiatry, 159(4), 519–526.
Marmor, M. F., & Ravin, J. G. (2009). The Artist’s Eyes. New York, NY: Abrams.
Bakker, N., & Jansen, L. (2010). The Real van Gogh: The Artist and His Letters. London: Royal Academy of Arts.
Blum, H. P. (1964). Colour in Dreams. International Journal of Psychoanalysis, 45, 519–529.
The Reverend Dr. Kathleen Rose holds a Doctorate in Clinical Pastoral Psychotherapy and a Master of Divinity. Her areas of focus are thanatology and Process Philosophy. Kathleen is an ordained interfaith minister. She currently works as a board certified healthcare chaplain, and as an Eco Chaplain. Kathleen is also student of Japanese Tea Ceremony through the international Chado Urasenke Tankokai associations of the Urasenke School in Kyoto, Japan. Kathleen Reeves is a published poet, and writer. She is a philosopher and a ponderer