A vivid representation of depression. What we cannot see still exists. We all seem to find ourselves trapped in our own heads at times, but some may take longer than others to climb out. When we find ourselves trapped in such a way, it may be hard to find the good in this world. But we have to trust that there is light at the end of these dark tunnels we occasionally cross. Depression has no face, it hides in the thoughts of its victims, and lies hidden amongst us, leaving the rest of us oblivious. This painting can have many meanings to it especially when examined deeply enough.
"MY FAMILY IS"
My family members are Van Gogh paintings in an art museum. We originated on the other side of the world, Israel to be exact. Israel is the Van Gogh in this gigantic world of Amsterdam. He was not liked by many, because people never cared to know his true story until it was too late. He got picked on a lot and not appreciated as much as he should have been. When he was bullied, the rest of the world blocked it out. I lived in Israel until I was seven and that was when my parents learned that it is not safe for us to live there anymore. I took my family for granted, thinking each of us individual paintings will always stick together within our painter, Van Gogh.
Once Van Gogh died for us, my family and I moved to America. I am the Starry Night. I moved with the rest of my family to the Museum of Modern Art. Most of our family paintings are left back in Europe. Although we came from the same artist, we will likely not see much of them again. As of us here who made it to America, we are just as separated from each other as we are from our artist’s paintings back home. Each of us is hanging on a different wall in a different room. Each of us is surrounded by paintings from different artists all around us. Those are the ones we get to know, the faces we get to study, the gardens and rooms and oceans we get to share our lives with. We are used to the comfort of these paintings more than of our own artist’s after so much time apart from them.
As the Starry Night, I hang on my own wall alone. That is how I live my life: with people walking past me, trying to understand me, and thinking that they do. They’ll never really know who I am. The only one who can truly understand me is the one who created me. I am too far from my artist now. As long as we are apart, I will never feel whole again. My favorite paintings are still a world away. Being the Starry Night, I don’t feel very connected to the paintings that came here to America with me. We are from the same artist, we are made up from the same brush strokes, and our paint came from the same tray, yet we are so different. We are always in the same building, but know nothing of each other. Then again, I can be surrounded by all these paintings on the walls around me, but none of them will ever know what it is like to be on my lone wall. I bet the rest of Van Gogh’s paintings feel the same.
Only on rare occasions will we get to see our artist again, because he is a part of us, he is ours, but no one else will ever get to know him the way we do. At the end of the day, I am still apart from the only painting that ever truly understood me, my grandma, the Sunflower. She may be on the other side of the world, but I will always feel more connected to her than the paintings that came with me to America. For those who are here, we are each our own individual masterpiece; we will never truly know each other. At the end of the day, we live under the same roof, just in different rooms that never see the light of day.
- STAV REUVEN (JANUARY 13, 2019)
SEE THE REST OF STAV'S ART AND THEIR MEANINGS ON HER INSTAGRAM ART PAGE @REMEMBERINGSTAV