It transforms the way we look at the world.

"It transforms the way we look at the world." This is what the presenter said about Van Gogh's paintings. After looking at them we will look at trees, the sky, our surroundings, the world differently.
Works for me. Makes me want to look at his paintings. If something we see or something we read or hear someone say, a few words, a few lyrics, the sound of a cello or a guitar or drum or voice, an image, a mix of colours, something suggested that we recognise but have never thought of expressing in such a way, isn't that what we all want? To look at the world and see the same scene differently from the day before?
I love watching films again and again and seeing something different each time, reading books for the same reason, hearing music, looking at a photograph or a painting. Seeing something different.
And transforming the way we look at the world implies that change is within. We change. Almost makes me cry, not because I don't like the way I see things now, but at the possibilites of seeing more. This is in danger of sounding a tad pretentious. A tad? I just want to see more. Simple. If looking at Van Gogh's paintings helps with this, then fab. I'm going.
And it's meant to be anyway, as a friend from university suggested when our 'three' meet up in London, it's ususally London as it's the easiest, then we should go to The Royal Academy and see the Van Gogh exhibition. So there's two connections there. Plus, I love the song "Vincent - Starry, starry, night" (I'm a sucker for songs like this) so for me, that's reason number three. Got to go. Oh and my youngest daughter did a wonderful portrait of him when she was in year one or two, bloody ear prominent. There for all to see in the gallery on our kitchen dining area wall. Properly framed as well.

The exhibition also shows Vincent's letters to his brother Theo explaining what he was doing, sketches included, to warrant the funding he received. They sound very different. I wonder if they really were. Elder and younger, businessman and artist, sane and insane. It's funny, well not funny, but, no, it is funny when you think about which one you'd rather be. The reality of living it and looking back at the work. Don't really want to think about the reality.
That's something else I read about the moments of looking on beauty, experiencing breathing in fresh air on a spring morning, say, for example, being worth the rest of the day being terrible. That's changing the sentiment into my words, but is a moment of happiness worth hours of misery?