The Bedroom (or Bedroom in Arles, as it is named alternatively) was painted in October 1888 during Van Gogh’s stay in Arles, in the “Yellow House”. He did it with oil on canvas, and its original size was 72.4 cm x 91.3 cm. The painting depicts the very bedroom in Van Gogh’s temporary quarters. It is noticeable that the furniture and all the interior look very simple. Indeed, when choosing a place to stay, the painter considered renting a flat first, but then decided to go with a cheaper option and find an apartment to share with other painters who planned on joining him later.
By looking at the painting, we can see the bed on the right side. To the left, there are two chairs and a table between them. In the back, there is a window slightly opened inwards. In spite of the bright contrasting colors, the entire painting looks slightly discolored, which is the result of aging. It is also suggested that walls were originally a shade of purple, not blue. On the other hand, blues and oranges (the color of wooden elements in the furniture) form a contrast to each other, similarly to the green floor and window which contrast with the red bed blanket. Also the objects in the painting do not cast any shadows, and the entire perspective looks distorted. Such bold decisions demonstrate Van Gogh’s divergence from the traditional Dutch art and his inspiration by Japanese prints.
I befriended the girls mother and we stayed in touch. Her mother had a fractured vertebra from an automobile accident, which gave her great pain and a drug addiction, and I laid hands on her neck several times over the next few months, and many years later, she told me that her neck healed soon after that, and she believed that my healing sessions did it. I later told her how hard her daughters death was for me, and how badly I felt that I was not able to help. She replied that when we finished working on her that first night, the atmosphere in her hospital room dramatically changed. Before we arrived, that hospital room was a place of fear, with the girls grandmother and aunt huddled in a corner, overcome by her impending death. But the next three days were blessedly peaceful, as if a loving balm was in the air. Worthy healers know that they are only vessels for a higher power to manifest, and I took some solace from her mothers description of that hospital room, but all these years later, I still grieve when thinking about situation. Since then, I have happily been around loved ones soon before their deaths, and the times have always been good, but I just tell them I love them and dispense with any attempts to help heal their conditions.
I came for the next three days, to lay my hands on her and be her friend, but whatever happened that first time did not happen again. On the second or third night, after laying on hands and as I was talking with her, that I realized she that was dying and that there was nothing more I could do. The fourth day, about 70 hours since my first session, I went to her hospital room and her bed was empty. I went home in a sorrowful daze and called the friend who invited me to the healing. The girl died a couple hours before I arrived. I was devastated and decided that I was not qualified for such work. I have not done that kind of work since, but I also have not been asked, and I am happy that no one has. I was four-for-four in praying or laying on hands, and the patient died within three days. I felt like an angel of death, not a healer.
My years in LA to begin my career were my lifes unhappiest, and I began suffering stress symptoms during my second busy season, as 60-to-70-hour weeks were normal. I pulled several all-nighters during those early years in LA. I began to get shortness of breath, constantly gasping for air, and did not know what caused it, but the problem disappeared when the busy season ended. The next year, the stress symptoms came back and did not disappear when the busy season ended, and I gasped for air every waking hour for a year. As the next busy season approached, I finally went to a doctor. He said that I was having classic stress symptoms, and that I had better quit my job before a health disaster befell me. Just then, I was called out of town for the second year in a row, to that .
I have known some highly accomplished psychics and psychonauts, some of whom have brought back designs for viable technologies from their inter-dimensional adventures that are used in every American home today. Some of them have visited , so I do not regard them as imaginary, but valid realities that some on Earth today will eventually experience. That is one of the stars that I have steered by since the 1990s. One psychonaut viewed a past life with me when I was a woman. My ambitious father used me to marry a rival and then assassinate him, in order to steal his realm. I was caught in the act and died in my husbands dungeon. When I heard that, I recalled many times in this life when I would stare at a wall or ceiling and think that I could cope with being imprisoned. I thought that I would often be in a trance. Also, the , one imagined method was the one I tried in the life that ended in a dungeon. It was a nightmare to even have thoughts like that and was the lowest moment of my journey, but when I was told many years later of my unsuccessful career as an assassin, it was one of those hmm moments. I have wondered if my possible experiences in a dungeon had something to do with .
He was nearly decapitated, as the murderer slit van Gogh’s throat and left two knives in his body, one with a five-page note attached, which threatened Western governments, Jews, and one of van Gogh’s colleagues.
By hiding his opinions and focusing on tangible evidence such as a solid visual analysis, powerful biographical details, and letters written by Van Gogh himself, Soth’s seemingly exaggerated opinion transforms into an insightful and well-supported thesis....
I think van Gogh did this for a few reasons, * One reason could be to show the way that he felt while he was painting, which could of been sad or “blue”....
The first thing I notice when I look at the painting is the amount of blue used to create the background, the jacket and also the darker, shaded areas on van Gogh’s face.
This self-portrait is the last ever self-portrait painted by Vincent van Gogh before he died on the 29th July 1890 as a result of a self-inflicted bullet wound.
One could interpret this opinion as meaning that there are various artistic styles and several facets of van Gogh’s life that can be critically analysed; having this understanding of Pollock’s attitude toward van Gogh, it would be difficult not to agree with her....
I had a psychic by a Michael channel. She read me as being in this lifetime, and that reading has been a touchstone ever since. We generally cannot read ourselves because our egos tend to distort the information, and I began that reading with no firm opinions about what my role, overleaves, and the like might be. I had my guesses, but they seem to have been mostly incorrect. After the reading, so much became obvious. For instance, my soul role was a mystery. Pursuing free energy can be an in many ways, as there is little normal about it, with and far beyond most peoples wildest imaginings. My days radicalized me, and have been the center of my lifes orientation ever since. Before that Michael reading, I thought I might be a warrior, server, or priest. If anybody was the king in that situation, it was Dennis. I was more of a knight, or even a squire. The reading was done over the phone, and the only information that the channel had was a stack of photographs of people in my life, as asking about my relationships with them was my primary intent. The reading was amazingly insightful and predictive. But readings of my personality and soul were the most impactful. When she said that I was an artisan, I was surprised, but later realized that my only possessions of note were my growing personal library, my music collection, prints of paintings, and other visual art. It was all art. I had already been doing some writing that led to this website, which is artisan work, and I performed . It was all standard artisan behavior, but I could not see it until I was told.
The event happened at a strangely coincidental time, when van Gogh had completed another film, one that was a fictional version of an earlier murder: the assassination of Dutch politician in 2002, by a person who claimed in court that he had murdered Fortuyn to stop him from exploiting Muslims as scapegoats.