We have a powerful, persistent image of Vincent van Gogh: the quintessential tortured artist. A misunderstood genius, living in abject poverty, who sold but a single painting in his lifetime. A madman who, in a fit of rage, mutilated his own ear. He is the patron saint of posthumous recognition. But how much of this dramatic story, etched into our collective consciousness, holds up against the quiet testimony of facts? When we look closer, the portrait of Van Gogh becomes far more complex, human, and perhaps even more inspiring.

The Myth of Pennies and Canvases

The story often begins with his finances—or lack thereof. We're told he scraped by on 200 francs a month from his brother, Theo. While this support was indeed his lifeline, painting it as a pittance is misleading. Consider that a postman supporting a large family at the time earned about 100 francs a month, and a skilled doctor’s salary was around 400 francs. With his income, Vincent was able to rent an entire house in Arles—the famous "Yellow House"—purchase some of the finest paints from Paris, and actively build his treasured collection of Japanese prints.

The truth is not that he had no money, but that his priorities were radically different from most. Food and comfort were secondary. His true nourishment was color, canvas, and light. He chose to invest in his art over his stomach, a conscious sacrifice that speaks not of destitution, but of a fierce, all-consuming purpose.

A Lonesome Genius? The First Glimmers of Recognition

The legend that he sold only one painting, The Red Vineyards at Arles, is equally stubborn and equally flawed. While that 1890 sale for 400 francs is the most famous documented transaction, it was far from the only one. Research into his life reveals that Van Gogh sold at least 14 works. Even before dedicating himself fully to painting, his art-dealer uncle, Cornelius Marinus, commissioned two series of cityscapes of The Hague. Later, in Paris, his brother Theo, a gallery director, worked tirelessly to introduce Vincent’s revolutionary paintings to progressive buyers. Sales were also made through the shop of Père Tanguy, a paint seller who championed the era's emerging artists.

Recognition wasn't just financial. By the late 1880s, the art world was beginning to take notice. His work was shown at the prestigious Salon des Indépendants and later in Brussels. His fellow artist Paul Gauguin wrote to him that his paintings were considered by many to be the most significant in an entire exhibition. Just six months before his death, the critic Albert Aurier published a glowing review titled "Les Isolés: Vincent van Gogh" ("The Isolated Ones: Vincent van Gogh"), praising his "intense," "feverish," and original vision. The seeds of fame were not just planted; they were beginning to sprout. Another year or two, and he might very well have been one of the most celebrated artists in Paris.

The Storm in the Yellow House and the Wounded Ear

No story of Van Gogh is complete without the infamous incident with Gauguin in the Yellow House in December 1888. Their dream of an artists' commune dissolved into conflict as the two strong personalities were confined indoors by bad weather. To this day, the exact events remain a mystery, shrouded in conflicting accounts.

Did Van Gogh attack Gauguin with a razor, only to turn it on himself in a moment of deranged fury? Did Gauguin, a skilled fencer, injure Vincent with his sword in the heat of an argument? Or, after a final, devastating quarrel led to Gauguin's departure, did Vincent commit the act alone—a symbolic gesture of defeat and despair? This third version often includes the detail of him presenting the severed piece of his ear to a local woman, perhaps echoing the grim ritual of bullfighting, where a bull's ear is awarded to the victorious matador. Both men remained silent on the matter for the rest of their lives, leaving us with a question that can never be fully answered.

Madness, Clarity, and a Starry Night

The severed ear cemented the idea of Van Gogh as "insane." He was diagnosed with epilepsy and bipolar disorder long after his death, but the only diagnosis made during his lifetime was a form of epilepsy, treated with rest and warm baths. This period of treatment at the asylum in Saint-Rémy was, paradoxically, one of the most productive of his life, resulting in over 150 paintings.

Among them was his most iconic work, The Starry Night. Ironically, Vincent himself disliked the painting, considering it a failure because it was painted from memory and imagination within the hospital walls, rather than from life. He felt it was an expression of his inner turmoil, not the world outside. This counters the romantic notion that his genius was a direct product of his madness. In his letters, Van Gogh repeatedly stated that during his attacks, he was completely unable to work. It was in the moments of painful clarity between the episodes that he worked with a desperate urgency, trying to reclaim the time his illness had stolen from him.

Reading the nearly two decades of correspondence with his brother Theo, one doesn't find a madman. We find a logical, profoundly intelligent, and articulate man discussing art, literature, and money with wisdom and precision. The true tragedy lies in the contradiction: a brilliant mind trapped in a body and brain that were failing him. His premature death, the circumstances of which are also debated, cut short a career that was already on an upward trajectory. He didn't need to die to be recognized; he just needed a little more time.

References

• Naifeh, S., & Smith, G. W. (2011). Van Gogh: The Life. Random House.

  This comprehensive biography is the result of a decade of research and provides exhaustive detail on the complexities of Van Gogh's life, challenging many long-held myths. It offers extensive information on his financial situation, documenting Theo's support and how it compared to the income of others at the time. It also meticulously reconstructs his commercial activities, listing known sales and commissions that go far beyond the single famous sale of The Red Vineyards at Arles. The book provides a deeply researched account of his mental health struggles and the events leading up to the ear incident (see Chapters 39-40, pp. 693-730 for the Arles period).

• Van Gogh, V. (2009). The Letters of Vincent van Gogh. (R. de Leeuw, Ed.; A. Pomerans, Trans.). Penguin Classics.

  This collection is the most direct source for understanding Van Gogh's own thoughts, intentions, and state of mind. The letters reveal a man who was articulate, well-read, and deeply engaged with the technical and theoretical aspects of his art. They contain detailed discussions about his finances with his brother Theo, his methodical approach to work, and his own painful awareness of his deteriorating mental health. His writings directly contradict the image of an incoherent madman, showing that his periods of immense creativity occurred during moments of lucidity, not during his psychotic episodes.