Lessons of Van Gogh
Work Ethics and Diligence

I persist in believing that you will come to the realization that in the studios, one doesn't learn much about painting, nor does one acquire much knowledge of life itself.  Instead, we find ourselves compelled to learn to live, just as we learn to paint, without relying on the old tricks and the schemes of deceivers. My belief remains steadfast not because I chastised you, but because I trust it will become your own conviction.

I painted it in the middle of the mistral. My easel was fixed in the ground with iron stakes, a method that I recommend to you. We bury the feet of the easel and then drive in a 50-centimeter-long iron stake next to it. Secure everything with ropes, and you can work comfortably in the wind.

Painting and fucking much are very compatible; it weakens the brain, and that's damned annoying.

The symbol of Saint Luke, the patron saint of painters, is, as you know, an ox. Therefore, we must be as patient as an ox if we wish to plow in the artistic field.

Isn't it the intensity of thought rather than the calmness of touch that we seek and is a calm and well-regulated touch always possible given the circumstances of impulsive work on the spot and in nature? Well - it seems to me - no more than fencing moves during an attack.

It's just that it's tiring, this sun here.  I'm also completely incapable of judging my own work. I cannot see if the studies are good or bad. I have seven studies of wheat, unfortunately, all against my will, nothing but landscapes - old gold yellow landscapes - done quickly, quickly, quickly and in a hurry, like the reaper who is silent under the blazing sun, concentrating on his work.

Now I'm not in a hurry for anything. Projects so often fail and the best calculations we make, while taking advantage of chance and working from day to day without bias, we do a lot of unforeseen things.

More and more I'm beginning to believe that food has something to do with our ability to think and make paintings; for me, it doesn't contribute to the success of my work if my stomach bothers me.

But to do good work, you must eat well, be well housed, have a screw from time to time, smoke your pipe, and drink your coffee in peace.

And in any case, there's nothing better to do than wait without getting impatient, even if one must wait for a long time.

It has long seemed to me that in our filthy trade of painting, we have the greatest need of people with the hands and stomachs of workers. More natural tastes – more amorous and more charitable temperaments – than the decadent and tired Parisian dilettantes.

But I must be patient.

... the truth is that you must toil hard.

So, your biblical paintings are a setback, my dear fellow,  but ... there are some who make mistakes like that, and even though it's an error, your return from it will be astonishing, and it’s by making mistakes that one sometimes finds the way.