As an African-American grandmother who thought the Civil Rights Movement, the Voting Rights Act, and the election of our first Black President had catapulted us at least a century-plus away from the sin and ignorance of slavery, I am in complete despair over DeSantis’ latest efforts to whitewash the filthiness of American history. He is basically saying: “White people, White people, don’t worry, be happy! Slavery didn’t steal Black people from their homeland, force them to labor for free, rape their women, maim and torture them, break up their families and sell them like bales of cotton across the country. White people, don’t you worry your pretty little heads about this fake news. No, no, no, no, no…those slaves learned much needed skills to make them good, solid American citizens. Slavery was actually beneficial to Black people. Plus, ignore what you heard about us White folks causing mass slaughter to thousands of them in towns like Tulsa, Ocoee, and Rosewood. Nothing to see here: Black people themselves perpetrated a lot of the violence that came upon them. It was their fault their houses were burned down, their lands were stolen, and that they were lynched. That’s why we’re revising the curriculum in our school text books here in Florida, so that our fair-haired White babies won’t have their feelings hurt or be traumatized by the truth…oops, I mean by fake news.”
Since the news broke about DeSantis and his horrid actions, my daily prayer is one of utter despair: “Why, Oh Lord? How long, Oh Lord must Black folks put up with the erasure of our historical pain and the Whitewashing of America’s racist history?”
Recently, I confessed my anger and despair to a group of Black women who are my age and older, and who have traveled similar paths: born poor, educated through college acceptance thanks to Affirmative Action laws, procured great jobs, and settled down in a nice retirement area and life. Black women are the most resilient people I have ever met. No matter what level of Hell we are dragged into, we manage to rise—to keep going.
As we all shook our heads and did the Black woman “tisk” (“Um, um, um…”), one of them gave me the Black woman benediction of their mothers and grandmothers that has sustained us for generations: “Baby, don’t let ‘em steal your joy!”
I meditated on the sources of joy in the days that followed my counsel from Black women. I decided that “joy” blossoms out of other actions, and I’d look for joy whenever and wherever I encountered love, peace, kindness, mercy, laughter, music, books, theater, art, and beauty. It only took a few days to come across a cache of beauty on tour in Virginia Beach, Virginia: “Beyond Van Gogh: The Immersive Experience.” It was a truly exhilarating spiritual experience that enveloped me in beauty and astonished me by lifting my spirit above the ignorance and hatred of the day.
“Beyond Van Gogh: The Immersive Experience” is a world-wide tour that explores hundreds of masterpieces in one place as Van Gogh’s art turns the surfaces around you (including the floor) into your personal digital museum of beauty. The experience is enveloped in music as well as Vincent van Gogh’s quotes about life, love, and beauty which fade in and out of the exhibit.
“If you truly love nature, you will find beauty everywhere.”
Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh
“…find things beautiful as much as you can, most people find too little beautiful.“
Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh, London, January 1874
Me (Eleanor T—woman in “Van Gogh flowery” pants suit and droopy purse), totally immersed in Vincent’s depiction of Paris beauty and loving every minute of it!
“I’d like you to spend some time here, you’d feel it—after some time your vision changes …you feel colour differently.”
To Theo van Gogh, Arles, 5 June 1888
“This morning I worked on an orchard of plum trees in blossom—suddenly a tremendous wind began to blow… In the intervals, sunshine that made all the little white flowers sparkle. It was so beautiful!”
To Theo van Gogh, Arles, 11 April 1888
Vincent van Gogh believed sunflowers symbolized gratitude.
Vincent suffered from mental illness, depression, and despair most of his life culminating in his cutting off most of his left ear, which he gave to a prostitute? /cleaning woman? (inconclusive historical reports as to occupation of ear recipient) after an altercation with the French artist, Paul Gauguin.
Vincent was a commercial failure: painted 900 paintings but sold only one in his lifetime.
…and yet—his capture of the beauty of nature in the midst of madness ministered to me in July 2023—a Black woman whose faith in country and mankind is failing her.
“And still to feel the stars and the infinite, clearly, up there. Then life is almost magical, after all.”
To Theo van Gogh, Arles, 18 August 1888
Starry, Starry Night (my personal favorite)—Van Gogh painted this scene while looking out the window of a mental institution.
“Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer’s day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul”
—“Vincent” by Don McLean
Dr. Paul Gachet cared for Van Gogh during the last few months of his life and was at his bedside when Vincent died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound suffered 30 hours earlier. Vincent van Gogh died unknown, impoverished, and in horrible despair that his art would ever make an impression on our deeply flawed world.
The Dr. Gachet painting sold for 82.5 Million in 1990. It still remains the record price for a Van Gogh work at auction.
“What am I in the eyes of most people? A nonentity or an oddity or a disagreeable person—someone who has and will have no position in society, in short a little lower than the lowest. Very well—assuming that everything is indeed like that, then through my work I’d like to show what there is in the heart of such an oddity, such a nobody.”—Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh, The Hague 21 1882
After the exhibit, I returned to the very real world with all the White racist bullshit I still have to live with on a daily basis. And yet…my soul does feel a little lighter, a little happier, a little more joyful than what it was before stepping into Vincent’s world. I don’t know exactly why, except being able to immerse myself in the beauty of art produced by someone who suffered so deeply and painfully over 130 years ago gave me the joy I needed to “rise up” in spite of the darkness that washes over me on a daily basis. Thank you, Vincent.
DEAR READER: If you get a chance to experience Beyond Van Gogh: The Immersive Experience (beyondvangogh.com) in your area, please do so. You won’t regret it!
Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a satirist who is an award-winning voice-over performer. In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!). Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.” Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker. If you don’t believe me, just ask her!
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how the hell did i end up here? 