Of all the flaws we humans are cursed with, the worst must be memory.
Without memory, we would have no reference points for the future. No expectations. And therefore, no disappointments.
Without memory, we wouldn’t forever be clinging like limpets to the driftwood collected from the remains of broken vessels in our past.
Without memory, we wouldn’t remember the happiest moments of our past, and would have a greater chance at happiness in the present.
Without memory, I’d be happy.
July 27, 1890: Vincent van Gogh shoots himself.
He died two days later, at age thirty-seven. In late 1888, van Gogh, desperate and growing increasingly unstable, had confronted his friend Paul Gauguin with a knife, before using it to cut off part of his own ear. He was taken to a hospital, where he remained in a delirious state (the locals called him “the redheaded madman”) before committing himself to an asylum in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence. Here, the artist painted one of his most beloved works - The Starry Night. And ironically, it was while van Gogh was in an asylum that interest in his work actually began to build, drawing attention from men like Monet and Pissaro. He left Saint-Rémy in May 1890 to stay in Auvers-sur-Oise, where he spent the last days of his life.
On July 27, 1890, van Gogh shot himself in the chest with a revolver, though the initial impact did not kill him; in fact, he walked all the way back to the house where he had been staying before an infection began to take effect. His brother Theo, one of the few people with whom van Gogh remained in close correspondence with all his life, visited him before his death. His last words were, according to Theo:
The sadness will last forever.
In his entire lifetime, Vincent van Gogh sold only one painting (Red Vineyard at Arles).
(Source: unhistorical)
Who the fuck am I.
That’s what you get for cranking on my girlfriend motherfuckerrrrrr
….said the guy who seemingly exclusively hooks up with other peoples girlfriends.
In 1996, Wil Smith enrolled as a freshman at Maine’s Bowdoin College. At 27, he had recently finished serving in the Navy. But he set off for school with his 1-year-old daughter, Olivia, in tow. Now that she’s a teenager, Olivia sat down with her dad at StoryCorps to look back on their “college days” together.
“I wasn’t planning on having you as my roommate,” Wil tells Olivia. “I actually thought that if Bowdoin College knew I had you, they wouldn’t let me come to college. So, I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone.”
To help make ends meet, he got a job working at a Staples office supply store, as a cleaner on the night shift.
“I had to take you in with me at work sometimes and hide you in the closet,” Wil recalls with a laugh. “I think I lost something like 27 pounds, just from stress and not eating, because I didn’t have enough for both of us.”
Wil played for Bowdoin’s basketball team. During the 1999 and 2000 seasons, he was the team’s co-captain. And to help him focus on his studies, he got some help from his friends.
“My basketball teammates were my first baby-sitters,” he says. “I just remember coming from class, and there were four giant guys — and then there was this 18-month-old who was tearing up the room.”
Olivia asks, “Were you ever embarrassed bringing me to class? Or just having me in general?”
“I felt a little awkward, but never embarrassed,” Wil says. “There were times when the only way I could get through was to come in and look at you and see you sleeping — and then go back to my studies.”
Wil graduated from Bowdoin in 2000. He eventually became the school’s associate dean of multicultural student programs, a post he kept for 10 years.
“My graduation day from Bowdoin is a day I’ll never forget,” he says. “You know, all of my classmates, they stood up and gave me the only standing ovation. “
“I remember walking up with you and having my head on your shoulder,” Olivia says with a laugh.
“Yeah, the dean called both of our names as he presented us with the diploma.”
“So, technically I already graduated from college,” Olivia says.
“Nice try,” Wil says. “The degree only has my name on it. So you still got to go.”
Earlier this year, Wil Smith was diagnosed with cancer; he’s now undergoing treatment for stage-three colon cancer. He also serves as the dean of community and multicultural affairs at Berkshire School in Massachusetts.
“I really admire your strength,” his daughter says. “And I love you.”
“I draw my strength from you,” Wil answers. “I always have, and I still do.”
I cried.
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inspired by the work of SAUL BASS, ART GOODMAN and DAVE NAGATA.
hitchcock typeface by MATT TERICH. tumblr theme by MATTHEW BUCHANAN.
