28 August -2024,
Dear Sonia,
I've been reading a lot about Van Gogh lately, I find there’s something magical about his art that draws people in. In every museum, his gallery is always the most crowded. Few people stop to look at my favorites, like Velázquez or Vermeer, but in the Impressionist section, especially around Van Gogh’s works, there’s hardly space to breathe. The crowd around the “Sunflowers” is so dense, as if everyone there is searching for a piece of that sunlight.
As I’ve delved deeper into his life, I’ve found myself deeply touched by his story. Van Gogh was a poet at heart, dreaming of happiness and success, though they always seemed to elude him. Instead, he poured those dreams into his paintings, with every brushstroke whispering what he longed for. What I admire most is how meticulous he was, blending the academic with the visionary. He wrote to Theo about trying to paint while dreaming, and I believe he truly did. He needed to see the world to paint it. Yet, the irony is that what Van Gogh saw was beyond what anyone else could—he painted not just with his eyes, but with his soul.
It makes me wonder if perhaps the essence of an artist's work isn't so much about what they see, but how they feel what they see. Van Gogh seemed to capture not just a scene, but the very heartbeat of it. Isn't that what we, as artists, strive for—to paint not just what is there, but what could be, what should be, what it feels like to stand in that very spot, under that very sky?
Throughout all the books I’ve read about artists, I've absorbed countless techniques to improve my painting and explored various styles, but I had never truly understood an artist's real feelings and emotions. With Van Gogh’s letters to Theo, I finally began to grasp that deeper, often hidden, emotional landscape.
Many questions arose as I read about him:
- How could someone who had never painted anything one day decide to become a painter and, in just 12 years, become one of the most important artists in history?
- How did someone who aspired to be a priest end up being the best painter in history?
- And the most important question: If Van Gogh only sold one painting during his lifetime, and even his brother Theo, who represented great artists like Degas, Seurat, Rodin, and Gauguin, couldn’t sell a single one of his works—where did the magic and attraction of the crowds come from?
You, Sonia, made me realize that people's taste in art perhaps requires “the endorsement of a famous entity, curator, or museum” to be validated.
In my research, I discovered that one key person is often overlooked in Van Gogh’s story: Joanna Bonger, his sister-in-law, whom he only met twice. Her role in his posthumous fame cannot be overstated. Van Gogh needed many things to align for his work to transcend time: extraordinary talent, a supportive brother, and the love and understanding of a woman who would help the world see his genius. It's a story of connections, much like what Steve Jobs referred to when he talked about “connecting the dots.”
Reflecting on this, I can't help but think of my own journey. There’s a similar dance of fate and choice, of following a path that feels both destined and entirely self-made. What compels us to pursue art with such fervor? Is it the desire to be remembered, like Van Gogh, or something deeper—a need to communicate, to reach out and touch the souls of others through our work? Perhaps it’s a bit of both, but I find myself increasingly drawn to the idea that we paint not just to be seen, but to see more clearly ourselves.
There’s a connection here to my own artistic journey. I never intended to be an artist. My mother, an Architect and art historian, gave me a brush when I was 5. But as she showed me famous paintings, I also learned about the stormy, difficult lives of artists. I decided that wasn’t the path for me—I always said I didn’t want to end up without an ear like Van Gogh, dead on a beach like Caravaggio, alone on an island like Gauguin, or lost in darkness like Goya. Instead, I pursued Design Engineering , and ended working as an app developer for Apple/Itunes.
But during that break from painting, magical things also happened. I studied technical drawing in Delft -Netherlands, digital drawing courses in San Francisco, Design Engineering career in Colombia, an MBA at Oxford Brookes in the UK, then, when Apple launched the iPhone, I began developing apps, and that experience deeply influenced my design and artistic perspective.
When I returned to painting after 20 years, I embraced white as the dominant color in my backgrounds, reflecting Apple’s philosophy of simplicity, where negative space is as crucial as the content itself. I adopted Apple’s principle of reducing complexity to its purest form, where every detail is meticulously considered. Inspired by Jony Ive’s (apple Head of Design) emphasis on "caring," I began to see the importance of attention to detail—not just in design, but in how those details connect emotionally with people. My paintings evolved into a balance of black, white, and subtle touches of color—mirroring Apple’s approach to creating designs that are not only functional but also emotionally engaging.
My hands and soul naturally followed these design principles. Those two decades without a brush fundamentally changed my relationship with art. I began to focus on expressing feelings and emotions rather than strict realism, creating works that are minimalistic yet powerful, where symmetry and asymmetry are carefully crafted to evoke specific responses. This approach allowed me to blend my deep respect for Apple’s design ethos with my art, resulting in pieces that are both modern and resonant, where simplicity, attention to detail, and a deep sense of "caring" are the keys to conveying profound emotions.
The day I decided to embrace being an artist was also the day I stopped being ashamed of painting. For so long, I painted in secret, hiding it from everyone. It was my private world, one I was afraid to share. And at 41, I finally told the world I am an artist, and I don’t care what anyone thinks.
Painting, for me, is not easy. It’s a challenge to create something new, I’m always striving to create compositions that defy what exists. Yes, painting is an expression of myself, my love for nature, and my way of communicating with the world. I’m not good with words, but I’ve found that, like Van Gogh, I’ve always felt different, out of place, even as a child. I always think and act totally different from the rest of the world.
The moment I finish designing and sketching and I decide the sketch is ready to start painting, I feel a rush of happiness, but it’s fleeting. Most of the process is hard, filled with doubt and insecurity. I’m constantly questioning whether what I’m creating is beautiful, whether people feel the emotions I’m trying to convey. It’s stressful, and the joy only comes in the last 30 minutes when I add the final details—the flowers, the birds, the secrets, and the hidden elements—everything that wasn’t planned but just came to me at the last second. But the funny thing is, I often find myself thinking, "I don’t like the painting," "I don’t like painting." Yet, in that very moment, when I finally feel the magic “and I say” I like it”, I realize, "I like the painting." It’s in that moment that I’m ready to add the magic and those final details.
This painting, “Close Your Eyes, and Feel the Wind (link to the painting), has helped me grow as an artist because I’ve learned that I need to exaggerate emotions to transmit them more effectively. It also taught me that I need to find inspiration from people artists like Van Gogh, Jony Ive, along with famous quotes, poems, or literature from masterful writers in history, these elements help me enhance what I’m feeling. By reading and absorbing these texts, I can express myself more deeply with my brush.
For now, “dreaming while painting” will be my focal approach because I need to create magical worlds that are extraordinary, beautiful, and bring joy to both me and the viewers. I’m sure that those who see this painting will remember a moment in their life when they felt the wind on their face—a sensation everyone has experienced at some point.
I’ve learned that Van Gogh immersed himself in literature, music, and the arts, drawing inspiration from the great masters to enrich his work. This realization has shown me that, to become a successful artist, I too need to delve into the writings of masterful authors and thinkers. By learning from them, I can enhance my ability to express emotions and ideas through my art, deepening the impact of what I create. I've also realized that I need a quote for each sketch—a guiding phrase that reminds me of what I want to transmit, ensuring that I don’t lose sight of my vision during the creative process. I would also love to learn from living masters like Jony Ive, who have profoundly influenced my artistic journey.
Sonia, I hope you find this letter insightful. I look forward to discussing it further in our next meeting week.
Take care,
Cami
Painiting Link
