Professor Butter Beard and Vincent’s “Variations on a Theme”
“What am I in the eyes of most people — a nonentity, an eccentric, or an unpleasant person — somebody who has no position in society and will never have; in short, the lowest of the low. All right, then — even if that were absolutely true, then I should one day like to show by my work what such an eccentric, such a nobody, has in his heart. That is my ambition, based less on resentment than on love in spite of everything, based more on a feeling of serenity than on passion. Though I am often in the depths of misery, there is still calmness, pure harmony and music inside me. I see paintings or drawings in the poorest cottages, in the dirtiest corners. And my mind is driven towards these things with an irresistible momentum.” – Vincent van Gogh, 1889, in a letter to Theo
Over this past tumultuous week, my internal “self-portrait” has continually transformed, like a chaotically choreographed animated collection of my bestie Vincent’s art. I shuffle the cards – a Celtic tarot deck of amazement, hunger, wonder, strength, anger, counsel, hibernation, courage, sorrow and hope – convincing myself that courage, strength and hope will eventually prevail. Nellie cautiously observes in doggy anticipation of which Sybil will desire another hike in the woods or forget that she just had a treat ten minutes ago. Her gorgeous compassionate cow-eyes follow my steps as I climb aboard the rackety wooden roller coaster ride of personal “variations on a theme.”
I have grown to fully appreciate artists that feed their internal desire to capture their personal unexpected journeys through self-portraiture. Rembrandt, Picasso, Frida Kahlo, Norman Rockwell, Claude Monet. And, while it may not seem as if age-old artists like Michelangelo, Albrecht Dürer and Raphael have much in common with modern masters like Andy Warhol and Yayoi Kusama, their like-minded interest in self-portraiture ultimately unites them all - both as visual artists and as human beings.
And then there is Vincent – the absolute king of “variations on a theme.”
Karen Serres writes, “Self portraits represent a unique synergy between maker and subject matter. Their appeal undoubtedly resides, in part, in the relationship between an artist’s style and their image. As viewers, we are no longer looking over an artist’s shoulder, but staring into their eyes, hoping that such intimacy might provide insights into their art, thoughts and character.”
Over the past century, Vincent van Gogh has become an “icon” of self-portraiture. For me, not only are his features instantly recognizable– his wild ginger hair, unruly red beard, green piercing eyes and hungry expressions – but his representations of himself are seen as gifts offering personal access to his unique personality and psyche. Exact captures of both crucial and casual strides along his journey.
His self portraits are the lens through which we view him and project ideas onto him – ideas about genius, passion, struggle, mental health, sacrifice, resilience and commitment. Vincent’s paintings, and especially his self-portraits, are “read” through the filter of his fully unique and compelling biography. And this “reading” began soon after his death. In 1893, the French writer and art critic Camille Mauclair wrote that “this is how I have always looked at Van Gogh’s paintings – as testimonies of himself.” This for an artist that historians believe only sold one of his paintings while alive (out of over 900 known paintings by the master).
A remarkable aspect of Vincent’s self-portraiture is the fact that he produced such a large number in a relatively short amount of time. Thirty-five painted representations survive, as well as three hand-drawn on two sheets. All were made between the spring of 1886 and late September of 1889, when Vincent was between 33 and 36 years old.
With regards to productivity, he has often been compared to his compatriot Rembrandt van Rijn, for whom Vincent had often noted great admiration. However, Rembrandt’s 40-odd self-portraits, honestly tracking his aging features, were painted over the span of four decades, compared to Vincent’s three and a half years of self-investigation and observation.
“What I'm most passionate about, much more than all the rest in my profession,” Vincent wrote early in 1890, “is the portrait, the modern portrait. I seek it by way of color and passionate expressions – an intensification of our characters. It is the only thing in painting that moves me deeply and that gives me a sense of the infinite.”
He went on: “The heart of man is very much like the sea, it has its storms, it has its tides, and, in its depths, it has its pearls too.” I am doing my best, my friend, to look and listen, with the hope of absorbing your wisdom into my searching soul. May these current daily variations feed the inherent strength, courage and hope within.
This theme of variation followed me into my baking laboratory. I offer you today’s version of my standard oatmeal cookie. Every time I bake them, I follow my tried-and-true basic formula, resulting in a both crisp and chewy cookie, but I vary the spices, salt and scrumptious additions based on my current state of mind. Today’s adaptation commanded the depth and silkiness of browned butter, the grandmother-like comfort of toasted pecans, and the delightful surprise of sweet, dried pears.
“I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart.” – Vincent van Gogh
Browned Butter Oatmeal, Pecan and Pear Cookies
Six dozen cookies
16 Tbsp unsalted butter (2 sticks), room temperature
2 cups pecans, coarsely chopped
3 ½ cups old-fashioned rolled oats
1 ½ cups all-purpose flour
½ tsp baking soda
2 tsp fine sea salt
½ tsp freshly allspice
2 cups packed light brown sugar
2 large eggs, room temperature
¼ cup pure maple syrup
1 cup chopped dried fruit (I prefer dried pears, but the choice is yours. Also try chocolate)
Flaky, or coarse, salt for sprinkling
1) In a large sauté pan, melt 4 Tbsp of the butter until the sizzling stops and the milk solids start to brown. Measure the oats into a large bowl. Add the chopped pecans to the sauté pan and stir until the nuts begin to caramelize in the browned butter. Pour the nuts/butter over the oats and stir to combine. Set aside to cool.
2) In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, sea salt and freshly grated nutmeg. In a stand mixer, cream together the brown sugar and the remaining 12 Tbsp butter. Add the eggs and maple syrup and mix until evenly combined. Add the flour mixture and mix until evenly combined. Be sure to scrape the bowl as necessary.
3) Finally add the oats/nuts and mix only until evenly combined. Remove from the mixer and fold in one cup of chopped dried fruit (or chocolate, or whatever you choose that day).
4) Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Using a 1” cookie scoop, form the dough into six dozen balls and fill the baking sheet (it’s OK if they are touching). Chill the tray of dough balls at least three hours and preferably overnight.
5) When ready to bake, heat your oven to 350 degrees. Line your baking sheets with parchment paper. Evenly space 12 dough balls on each tray. Slightly flatten the dough balls and lightly sprinkle the tops with flaky, or coarse, salt. Bake the trays on the center rack, one tray at a time for 8 minutes, rotate the tray, and bake for 3 minutes more until the cookies are puffed and the edges are beginning to brown.
6) Cool the cookies completely on the baking sheet before transferring them to a wire rack.
