Song: Vincent (Don McLean)

On 29th July 1890, Vincent Van Gogh, one of the greatest painters of all times, shot himself after a long battle with mental illness. He was only 37, but in the years he dedicated to painting, he produced more than 2,000 works, including some of the most important (and expensive) pieces ever. The Museum Van Gogh in Amsterdam houses many of his paintings, but you can see his work in the most renowned art museums and galleries in the world.

In 1971, Don McLean wrote this beautiful song which captured Van Gogh's life and art beautifully. The slideshow is a collection of some of his paintings. After listening to the song, you can try a reading activity based on his biography. There is also a vocabulary activity about art based on the lyrics.

If you were one of Van Gogh's painting, which one would you be? Do the test and find out! Here's who I am...



Starry starry night
Paint your palette blue and grey
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul
Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land

Now I understand what you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They would not listen they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

Starry starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue
Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

Now I understand what you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

For they could not love you but still your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight on that starry starry night
You took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you Vincent
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you

Starry starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget
Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn of bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

Now I think I know what you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They would not listen they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will

• In your opinion, who are "they" (they would not listen, set them free, etc)?

See also:

Women in Art