The Last 70 Days of Vincent van Gogh

On my drive to work, on a quiet country road, there points a sign toward "Maison de van Gogh", the house of van Gogh. I'd always been curious to visit, and it took us a full two and half years to finally get around to it yesterday. Which is kind of funny, considering that it is only 15 minutes from our apartment.

A little web research before leaving home told us that Vincent van Gogh lived in Auvers-sur-Oise for a short period, following stints in Antwerp, Paris, Arles, and the Netherlands, among other places. However, Auvers-sur-Oise was his last stop, for after only 70 days of living there, he walked to a field outside of town, shot himself with a revolver, then walked back to his rented room and died two days later.

The "Maison de van Gogh" was not his house, but in fact a restaurant called Auberge Ravoux with two small rooms for boarders upstairs (Auberge being the word for a boarding house, and Ravoux being the family name of the owners). Today the restaurant still operates and profits well from its minor fame of Vincent van Gogh's last home. For five euros each we were given a tour of the seven square meter room and attic that has been largely untouched in the 100+ years since the artist's death.

The room was gloomily befitting of a mentally tortured man's last days, with cracked gray walls, dull wood floors, and a miserable little skylight that offered a view of nothing. Along one wall, where the bed had been, the Institute de van Gogh had installed a glass-enclosed case to display one of his paintings, which they were hoping to acquire soon.

In an adjoining room we watched a small slideshow of the paintings he had done in town, along with bits of letters he had written to his brother about the area. Then we exited through the bookshop (naturally), and decided to spend some more time in this charming little town. We hiked up the road behind the restaurant and followed it up a hill and out of town, into farmers' fields. From there we had a summer afternoon's view of the surrounding area, peaceful in its remote distance, and could imagine how van Gogh had painted an average of one canvas a day while he lived there.

We passed an area enclosed by a stone wall, where we stole cherries from overhanging fruit trees, and came upon the local cemetary further up the hill. We wandered amongst the headstones until we found Vincent and his brother Theo's graves, side by side. I adored the humble graves, which were decorated only with growing ivy and a few small sunflowers. Unlike a French celebrity buried in the posh Pere Lachaise cemetary, van Gogh's grave seemed as simple and unassuming as his life had been.

We left the cemetary and continued down the country road, occasional signs marking places where van Gogh had stopped to paint the scene. Eventually we took the roads leading back around to Auvers, where I took note of the restaurant's hours before leaving. We'll definitely return for dinner sometime.