Go, Van Gogh

Last year at this time, Kris, our right hand (wo)man at Yokl, and Melissa, my daughter, happen to be in Holland at the same time. Wild, right?

Melissa texted me one morning (well, middle of the night here in PA) to say she, her girlfriend, and her mom had just visited the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. That message sent me down a little rabbit hole… and I ended up learning (or relearning?) a few things about Van Gogh.

Here’s what stuck with me:

He was unrecognized in his lifetime.

Vincent van Gogh, the man whose paintings are now worth millions, only sold one piece while he was alive. He died in 1890, battling intense mental illness and likely believing he had failed. And yet, the world would come to treasure his bold brushstrokes and emotional honesty. He painted because he

had

to. Because it was in him. Even when no one clapped.

He mass produced.

In

Atomic Habits

, James Clear tells a story about a photography class split in two: one group was graded on

quality

, the other on

quantity

. The group aiming for volume created the best work, by far. Turns out, mastery isn’t about waiting for the perfect idea. It’s about showing up, again and again. Van Gogh painted for just over a decade before his death. He created more than 2,000 works. That’s a painting every other day. He didn’t wait for brilliance. He

worked

his way into it.

He wasn’t a prodigy.

Van Gogh didn’t pick up a brush until his mid-20s. That fact alone blows my mind. He had already learned to read, write, and do thousands other things before he even touched a canvas. Just this week, my friend Meg hosted Celestine, an exchange student from Belgium, at her art studio. Celestine had never really explored art until now. She even took an art class at Hershey High School And guess what? She

can

draw. And she

can

create!

What talents are tucked inside you, just waiting to be discovered?

So yes, I’m thrilled Melissa got to visit an iconic museum in an iconic city. But I’m also grateful for the unexpected inspiration that found

me

this morning from an unhappy, misunderstood, brilliant man with a paintbrush and a purpose.

Do your thing! Keep iterating. It’s never too late.