My very first impression of Van Gogh was love at first sight. My schoolgirl crush began when I learned about his paintings and chose “Café Terrace at Night” to study as part of an art exam. I painstakingly copied every aspect of the colorful scene as a pen and ink line drawing.
While I’m certainly no artist myself, by the end of it I felt I knew every chair, every star and the back story of every person sitting at the tables under the night sky. From then on, I’ve always made sure I have a copy of the painting somewhere on display in my home.
I was thrilled when Don McLean wrote the song “Vincent.” I’d listen to the single on my record player until the scratches on the disc resembled brush strokes. While I’m certainly no guitarist, I taught myself to play and sing the song, memorizing every note and every word.
Although it had been released the year before I was born, I’d watch Kirk Douglas in “Lust for Life” every time it was on TV. It told Van Gogh’s story in such a brilliant, turbulent way.
Before long I realized I wasn’t alone in my passion for the tortured artist, who famously cut off his left ear. He had mass appeal, his posters and images were everywhere. It seemed everyone loved him as much as I did. The height of my passion came when I was lucky enough to visit the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. There I could view the actual paintings I had only seen as posters and prints — his bedroom in Arles, almond blossoms against a teal sky, rich ochre sunflowers and numerous self-portraits.
As you might imagine, when I heard about the “Immersive Van Gogh Exhibit” in Chicago, I simply had to go. Getting there took me somewhat longer than I would have liked thanks to the pandemic, but I finally made it. The exhibition has proven so popular that it’s now traveling the world, and if you’d like to go yourself, the Chicago run has been extended until Feb. 6.
Since every venue is different, each exhibition will be unique since the building itself plays a large part in the end result. What I’m guessing will be singular to the U.S. is the number of Van Gogh puns around the place (the “No Gogh” sign to name but one). I really hope as you’re reading this you use the van-KHOKH pronunciation that the artist himself would have responded to with his right ear.
Since by now there has been a lot of publicity, I felt I sort of knew what to expect. It’s basically a 35-minute audio visual projection featuring many of Van Gogh’s works. In Chicago it spans four rooms of the Lighthouse ArtSpace in the historic Germania Club Building. But the coolest thing is that each wall in each room gives you a different view of what’s on display.
What it doesn’t do is give you any information about the painting, Van Gogh’s life or any of the other things you might learn in a regular art gallery. Part of me thinks it’s dumbing down the experience for mass appeal but on the other hand, it’s only there at all because of the artist’s broad fan base. Would an immersive exhibition of the works of Adolf Menzel or Henri Biva draw even a handful of people? (They worked around the same time period as Van Gogh in case you’re wondering.)
You can watch from a solid bench, a fold-up chair, leaning against a wall or sitting on the floor. The art is everywhere. Van Gogh’s almost cartoon-like style lends itself very well to some clever animation. The candles flicker on the brim of his hat until they blow out one by one, the sails turn on a windmill, menacing black crows bat their wings over a wheat field. I got goosebumps as soon as the stars over the café terrace began to twinkle, overwhelmed as the entire painting came to life. For the thousands of times I’d seen the image, I’d never imagined it like this. However….
While the art was everywhere, even on the floor, I can’t say I felt truly immersed. I was still unable to give my order to the waiter in the white apron or wave to the woman in the red dress across the street. I couldn’t put my feet up on Van Gogh’s bed or sit on his wicker chair. I couldn’t take my place at the table with the potato eaters or adjust the postman’s hat. But seeing the paintings loom larger than ever before, I could marvel more easily at the attention to detail, the brush strokes and the colors, the wonderful world of color.
While I’m certainly no art critic, I know what I like, and I liked this. I was only disappointed that the well-stocked gift shop didn’t include projectors that I could use for my own mini Van Gogh show at home.
Hilary Decent is a freelance journalist who moved from England to Naperville in 2007.
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