Apparently so... because I took one look at Van Gogh's painting of old shoes and instantly fell in love with them!
I hadn't seen this Van Gogh painting before - but it was whilst sitting in on an Art lesson that I saw them for the first time.
I love the way the leather is all worn and one shoe is folded over at the top. Even the shoelaces tell a story.
When I did a bit of research, it turns out Van Gogh had bought the old work shoes at a flea market in Paris. But it wasn't until he'd walked through the mud in them and got them really filthy that he thought they were interesting enough to be painted.
I think they are so much more interesting than a pair of clean, shiny shoes.
So I decided to get creative - and write an ode to Van Gogh's Shoes, which I sent to the Head of Art after I'd sat in on his lesson. Enjoy!
I HAVE LIVED - An ode to Van Gogh’s 1886 oil painting, A Pair of Shoes.
These shoes are like my soul,
Aged and worn.
Gone the springy firmness of the soles
That once bounced across the soil of the newly-furrowed fields.
Gone the stiffness of the laces
That tied with hope for the days ahead
And gone,
The proudness of the leather
That stood upright, aware that it was – indeed – a sight to behold.
And yet –
As I sit and look at my shoes now
I see the softness of the leather
Moulded comfortably to my feet
Battered and worn –
yet comfortably familiar
And soft against my toes.
Not stiff, nor hard, not needing to be worn down,
Just soft and moulded to life’s travails.
I see laces that thread easily through the holes
Familiar with the tracks of life that I have walked
No longer forced
But accepting
Of the life that I have lived
I look at these shoes
And despite their tiredness
Their battered
Heart-
What I see is… Soul.
The character
And the life that they have lived.
And I find myself glad that I have lived this life – and have the shoes to prove it.
Far better to have lived a life
amongst the fields
With friends and family
With whom I have shared my tears,
of joy and pain
Far better to have held a body close
And spoken silent words of support in my head
As their loss filled the vast expanse of the fields ahead
Far better that
Than to have lived a life that was sterile and clean
Untouched by life’s experiences
Or another man’s pain
The leather – then – still harsh against the foot
Where life has left it shiny and untouched.
Yes,
I am battered.
Yes,
I am old
But I am alive
AND I HAVE LIVED.
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