The Protective Glass

I was confused as to why the painting was so famous. I couldn't get them out of my mind. They were not my favourite from what I had seen in the gallery. They were not the most colourful or the biggest, but they intrigued me more than anything else. Today, I think about them a lot. 

I remember the first time I visited London. Once all the major sightseeing was done I told my parents I wanted to go to The National Gallery to see Vincent Van Gogh's Sunflowers. I was probably around twelve at the time; I didn't know much about art and painting. The reason I wanted to see the sunflowers is that they were famous, and I thought it would be cool to say I had seen them.

We arrived at the gallery not too long before it was due to close. I wasn't interested in any of the other artwork; they just provided nice scenery on the route to room forty-three, where the flowers lived. We passed paintings by Michaelangelo, Rembrandt, Monet, and Cezanne, but all I cared about was one particular painting. Eventually, we entered room forty-three, and on the right hung Sunflowers by Vincent Van Gogh. My initial feeling was relief: I had managed to see them in the flesh before the museum closed! After the relief passed, wonder kicked in. Oh my God, I am looking at Sunflowers in the flesh! This too passed. The lasting feeling was disappointment. The flowers were not as big or as colourful or as realistic as I had imagined. Only twenty to thirty seconds had passed. In those few seconds, I had decided that the painting was overrated and that I had seen much better ones on the route. We left, through the gift store, back into the bustling streets of London, to join the rest of the disillusioned.

I was confused as to why the painting was so famous. I couldn't get them out of my mind. They were not my favourite from what I had seen in the gallery. They were not the most colourful or the biggest, but they intrigued me more than anything else. Today, I think about them a lot.

If someone asked you to name the things that mean a lot to you, what would you say? You would probably choose your family, friends, and certain memories: most of my favourite things are so because they remind me of these. My favourite places, songs, and movies remind me of the ones I love and the memories I have with them. They remind me about life and all the intricacies that come with it. The difference between my twelve-year-old self, and who I am now, is that now I can find meaning in many more things.

During my time as an undergraduate, I majored in astrophysics. Sometimes it was quite difficult to switch off from all the equations. Now and again, I would go online, search for musical theatre videos, and spend some time watching clips from different shows. When I first decided to do this, my interest in musical theatre was minimal. I only searched for musical theatre because I decided at that moment it was the furthest thing from physics and it would allow my brain to detach itself from the equations - this ironic hobby introduced me to the wonderful world of theatre,

There are, I discovered, many similarities between theatre and science. Both, in their own ways, seek to understand the world we live in and to communicate it. I began to question whether I had previously dismissed anything else that could be useful in my life as I was growing.

I think back to the first time I saw Van Gogh's Sunflowers and wonder why they intrigued me so much as a child. Recently I returned to The National Gallery, specifically to see those sunflowers again. Similar to my first trip a decade previously, I found myself short on time, which meant skipping most of the art. The difference was that this time I understood what I was missing. Nevertheless, time never allowed for anything else. I walked into room forty-three with a clear mind and was surprisingly hit with the same thread of emotion.

I allowed myself time to look at the painting properly - to see how Van Gogh uses different strokes to capture different aspects of the flowers and their vase. I tried to appreciate how Van Gogh decided that his yellow flowers should be on a yellow-brown table, against a yellow wall; he wanted to prove he could still create a beautiful composition. I now understood the lack of vibrant yellow could have been partly because of how the flowers darkened over time. Despite all this, I still found that for whatever reason I was not able to appreciate the painting in a way that was truly meaningful to me.

Van Gogh's Sunflowers have played a huge part in my life, connecting my childhood wonder to my adult appreciation, however, when I see the flowers in person there is always a disappointment. Firstly, there are always lots of people all trying to sneak a look at the painting, or trying to take a picture. It is impossible to have that alone time with a painting so renowned. Secondly, the painting sits behind a thin layer of glass to protect it. The glass is very good at not making itself known, but as my eyes surveyed the painting, I knew it was there. You cannot truly appreciate the extreme subtitles of each stroke of paint. Again, you cannot be with the art in its purest form. For me, the glass protecting the paintings is a metaphor for life - there may be boundaries preventing you from appreciating something completely, or it might just not be your thing, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't try. You may find the glass was never really there at all.

One of my role models is Alan Bean, the fourth man to set foot on the moon. After an eighteen-year career with NASA, he retired to focus on painting, an interest of his from his younger years. His story is a true representation of an inner renaissance. He allowed a passion from his younger days to truly encapsulate him and take him over completely.

Revisiting Van Gogh's Sunflowers in The National Gallery inspired me to try to explore other art forms that may have excited me once before as a child, or ones that I hadn't thought about. I am beginning to find meaning in new places and learning more about others because of it. We can be better people by opening ourselves up to art - by trying to remove the glass in front of the flowers. Alan Bean returned to his paintings knowing he could make something incredibly unique: he waited decades for art to become a meaningful and prominent aspect of his life once more. Van Gogh, having died aged only thirty-seven, painted almost nine hundred paintings in ten years. No matter in what capacity art plays a part in your life, you should seek it out. We will all be better off for it.