In Retrospect - SHORT ESSAY/ DIARY ENTRY

I took this Photo in the Museum Quarter in Amsterdam, right after visiting the Van Gogh Museum

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about the gap between the first time a creative makes something and the moment they receive popular recognition. Not only posthumous appreciation, but post-years-of-working appreciation; artists that go unnoticed for much of their creating life. Many obvious examples flood my mind - Frida Kahlo, Jane Austen, Anne Frank, Jeff Buckley – who were only truly recognized and properly celebrated in retrospect. There is such sadness in knowing that no-one can go back in time and impress upon them their own significance.

A lot of these thoughts were heightened when I visited the Van Gogh museum. He is an epitome of an artist popularly hated in life and loved in death (or at least, he is a popular epitome of this). Walking around the gallery, I thought a lot about an old Doctor Who episode where the Doctor and Amy visited Van Gogh and took him to a modern-day art gallery with his work. There are so many people that deserved episodes like this or, even better, a chance with a real-life time machine.

It often feels hypocritical that someone could be side-lined for so many years at a time of personal suffering, and then latterly adored by the public. If I was writing the Doctor Who episode, I think I would have imagined Van Gogh seeing his modern-day popularity, and being like “Really? You’re gonna do this NOW? You’re going to love me a hundred years AFTER I needed it?”

It is easy to be a cynic: there is so much art that only appears to be talked about because of the name attached to it. We all know most of the talkers would have ignored the same piece of art had it lived in obscurity – and there isn’t any getting away from that. I wonder if any of the posthumously appreciated artists really would have benefited from knowing the sheep-like tendencies of the tourists holding up their name.

From the moment the fame of an icon is cemented, the public gaze turns the litter they’ve touched golden. In her article about her brother’s fame, Gemma Styles wrote, “People scurry to gather tidbits of information about his life… to try and understand where this creature with the hair and the silver boots came from. All of our memories [of him] became his origin story.” And obviously, his origin story has only become interesting to the public in the aftermath of his fame (which to be fair, was achieved quite rapidly). Details of Harry Styles’ childhood weren’t valuable when he was a child – at least not to anyone who wasn’t a part of it.

But, the public (whoever that is) are able to turn the ignored into the studied. It seems shameless, the way someone is declared celebrated and their past valuable - as if value is awarded by popular interest.  It almost feels unjust that there isn’t an apology, or an admission of misjudgement. And I’m not sure many artists would feel their origin stories have increased in value with the rising number of analysers.

For all its sadness, I don’t think anyone could blame the masses for acting like sheep. It is known that humans like to be part of a crowd. Adding fuel to a satirist’s fire, humans crave reassurance.

And who am I to say that the tourists in the Van Gogh museum (of which I was one) would have made Van Gogh angry? I’m sure Van Gogh would have appreciated the admiration anyway. Or he wouldn’t have – because, importantly, I don’t know Van Gogh. I have no idea what he would have thought about the gigantic art gallery with his name on it. Regardless of how many times I have watched and rewritten his Doctor Who episode.