Postbox for Vincent van Gogh.

Vincent had never been particularly concerned about the up keep of his hut. He was just one man, and it never mattered if his clothes were strewn across the floor or if there were papers scattered across the measly pieces of furniture. It may have smelled a little, may have been cramped and even possibly give the impression of someone who was ( Read more... )

Okay guys, Vincent works constantlySeriously, even if he's not working on an actual painting, you can bet he's sketching and working on ink drawings. Because of this, he is usually somewhere, typically a public place, and is drawing what he sees. Anything. Everything. Some things catch his interest more than others, but if you're in a room with him ( Read more... )

It was interesting how an object as small as a revolver was able to make such a large sound, and pack such a powerful punch. One wouldn't expect something so small to be the source of so much disturbance. But just a pull of the finger, a simple drawing of a single digit, could create a blast which echoed across a field in a way that startled a ( Read more... )

"This is terrible paper," he murmured under his breath, frowning at the smudges littering the sketch under his hands. It seemed everytime he made a line, it was smeared, smudged, and refused to stay put. Typically that was unavoidable on any kind of paper, but this bright white paper he'd found was ridiculous and the lines would not stay put. If he ( Read more... )