Immersive Van Gogh: Paintings, projections, and purchases spread across the U.S.

By Kate Mazade

There are two sides to every story. In this case—like many others—there is art, and there is money. The two sides contradict each other and yet are codependent, as I was reminded when the Immersive Van Gogh digital exhibition opened in Dallas, Texas.

Mauve, ochre, and chartreuse brushstrokes swipe across the wall as wide as my arm while bowstrings draw a low chord from a rumbling cello. Hundreds upon hundreds of weeping violets pop into existence, and waves lap with ribbons of Tuscan gold and lime below a navy sky.

Meanwhile, I'm crouched on a dirty floor with my family, seven of us encircled in a socially-distanced halo of light. To my left, a young couple are wrapped in each others arms, gazing at the sea of projected leaves, while a photographer snaps photos for purchase and smacks his gum.

The searing sunflowers of “Les Tournesols” (1888) peel vermillion petals across people's faces. The bed, the chair, the window of “La Chambre à coucher” (1889) blink in haunting repetition. The artist’s narrow face and strong nose sharpen under flickering candlelight—like the guy on the side of the room, absorbed in the blue vortex of his phone.

“Almond Blossom” printed on a yoga mat, “Mangeurs de pommes de terre” (The Potato Eaters, 1885) on a key chain. The punny pandemic slogan “It's safe to Gogh” splayed across a billboard next to a call for influencers—because I’m certain that Van Gogh envisioned his works as digitized backdrops with swipe up links.

The chord shifts to a minor key, and there is regret in the emerald eyes of “The Postman.”

Despite comprising only three rooms, Immersive Van Gogh Dallas offers over 500,000 cubic feet of projections. The Dutch Impressionist’s works wink in 60,600 video frames, entrancing viewers with 90 million pixels. The 360-degree projections ripple across blank walls, bounce off angled mirrors, and splash across viewers’ faces, dripping through their hair and down shirt sleeves.

The one-hour program was created by Massimiliano Siccardi with art direction by Vittorio Guidotti and soundtrack by composer Luca Longobardi. Co-produced by Corey Ross, Svetlana Dvoretsky, Slava Zheleznyakov, and Impact Museums; Immersive Van Gogh will be seen in 20 major cities across North America before the year is up. In addition to Dallas, it is currently on view in Chicago, San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York, Charlotte, Minneapolis, and Phoenix; and is set to open soon in Cleveland, Las Vegas, Pittsburg, Orlando, Houston, Detroit, Columbus, Nashville, San Antonio, and Kansas City.

But that isn’t art-lovers only opportunity to see the works animated and set to music. There are actually five renditions traveling to nearly 40 cities across the States. The dueling shows are staged by different corporate entities with minor inconsistencies but the same general concept. The competition has caused mass confusion and led many—myself included—to google the silly, panic-induced question: “which is the real Van Gogh exhibition?” (As if a projected replica would supersede original paintings in authenticity.)

Despite the marketing confusion and the fact that I drove an hour after work on a Tuesday to pay to sit on the ground, I enjoyed the exhibition. Quite honestly, I was dazzled in the moment by the collection of emotion and color.

And yet, I keep returning to the other side of the story. Frustration festers at the bastardization of art. At the blatant social media marketing. At the corporate competition. At the “everyman's accessibility” turning into the “I saw it on Netflix” claim to fame. At the commercialization and almost grotesque profit from work that never financially supported the artist during his lifetime. At the fact that we celebrate the beauty that resulted from Van Gogh's anguish. That people expound upon the freedom of the “Nuit étoilée” (Starry Night, 1889) without realizing he painted it while in an asylum, trapped in the cage of his own mind.

Is the whole concept hypocrisy?

Or is it art?

The bitterness and sorrow, the disappointment, the wandering but chained feeling in Van Gogh’s work. Even the happy paintings feel tortured. Are these emotions the real legacy that Van Gogh left, however unintentionally? Do I feel conflicted for conflict’s sake or conflicted because that is the human condition? And because Van Gogh captured it like no other.

As Van Gogh so poetically lamented—in this case printed on a foam core sign hung next to a selfie station—“I put my heart and soul into my work and I lost my mind in the process.”

The Immersive Van Gogh Dallas is held in the Lighthouse Dallas in the East Quarter and runs through the end of October.