During my sophomore, junior and senior years in high school I painted props in advanced theater. I tried to place the color yellow into every piece that I made because yellow became a beacon of hope for me. No matter how little sleep I had gotten the night prior I could walk into the prop room, gather my supplies, put on my favorite song and find a way to let it all go so that I could direct my focus onto the project.
The bell sounded, cutting my creativity short and I was plagued knowing that the rest of the day would drag. I dreaded it. So I decided to carry it with me. I would paint a little piece of yellow on my thumb as a way to remind myself to keep going. It may seem a little silly, for a little glob of paint to boost my mood, though it did.
How could I be sad when looking at a color so pure and happy? Yellow is sunshine, smiley-faces and spring-time blooms.
As I looked at that stroke of yellow on my hand I thought back to something my English teacher said a year prior. She had been discussing a novel with the class when she said something I will never forget.
“All great artists have some form of instability,” she said to one of the students.
I’m not sure if we had been reading “Gatsby” or another novel, but, quite frankly, I wasn’t paying much attention. All I can recall is that immediately after that sentence left her mouth she turned toward me and said, “Sorry.”
“Thank you,” I replied, because at that moment I only interpreted it as my teacher calling me a “great artist.” It wasn’t until I had graduated that I thought back on it and considered she could have just been referring to me as “unstable.”
Before that epiphany I was only a senior sitting at my desk, looking at the colorful swirl on my thumb.
It made me think of Vincent Van Gogh and how he allegedly ate yellow paint. Many have speculated that because his viewing of the color to be cheerful led to his consumption of it.
This sparked a saying, “I hope you find your yellow paint.”
This is derived from the following post (https://coolbeansz.tumblr.com/post/156096064206/amp).
It talks of Van Gogh’s troubles and how, above his struggles, he chose to make art.
Toward the end of the post, the author wrote, “I think we all have our yellow paints and sunflowers and starry nights. I think beauty comes from all things painful (not to romanticize anything because self destruction is not beautiful but the strength you gain from getting over it is) and anyways, I hope you find your yellow paint and I hope it keeps you alive. I hope you allow sunflowers to bloom from your lungs and I hope you allow yourself room to breathe and grow and become the artist (in any way you express yourself) that you’re meant to be.”
Beyond the run-on sentences I believe this was a beautiful interpretation of an artist and their work.
Van Gogh once wrote a letter to his brother stating, “I can’t change the fact that my paintings don’t sell.”
Now, his work is sold on T-shirts. His paintings are beloved and you can’t speak to someone about him without a mention of “Starry Night” or sunflowers.
Though his last words were, “The sadness will last forever.”
Art is a bittersweet farewell gift to those who will never truly know us and those who knew us better than anyone. Making art is temporary, but artistic expression is infinite and will always be. So create art even if it’s the last thing you do.
