Reading harold_maude's journal

To help myself maintain a resonable sense of balance in the mist of what is going on in my life, I spent time wandering around the Van Gogh gallery that is on line.

I read the biography, looked at the letters and read some and his health. He is one of my favorite artists. His works over the years have influenced my own studies and work.
His art was genius, but for that genius he suffered greatly.
Art in it's most extreem borders on the edge of great madness.
His art and his drive and the madness he suffered under made it hard for anyone to live with him.

I have since I began to study his work, realized that it's that way for most dedicated artists. To make living work one inevidably will be hard to live with.
It takes over every other consideration, and at times becomes an immpossible achievement.
There have been so many times that I have looked at my work and could see nothing but useless efforts to the task of creating a work and wanted to burn everything I had put my hand to.

Reading about Van Gogh tells me I am not alone.
There have been many times that I was sure I had lost my mind completely, and in that place felt blind and helpless.

The effects of the storm that have come have taken their toll as well.
I know that I am in need of trying to fix damage done.
I appoligize if none of this makes sense to any reader of this, it makes sense to me, and in this place that is my primary concern.