Deciphering Jo's strategies and actions in a man's world
In the beginning of my novel, when Jo van Gogh is grappling with the death of her husband Theo, she is annoyed when her brother mansplains to her.
The book begins in 1891, the tail end of nineteenth century Paris. The word “mansplain” isn’t coined yet, of course. But when researching Jo’s true life efforts to promote her brother-in-law Vincent’s paintings, I recognized mansplaining. Being spoken to in a condescending way—assuming she doesn't know the information already—is based on the yech stereotype that men are naturally more knowledgeable than women.
More knowledgeable about everything.
Even stuff they don’t know about.
So in the scene containing mansplaining Jo’s brother Dries goes on about an art exhibition that she’s already very familiar with. She had just spent a year sharing in her husband Theo’s passionate art-dealing work. And Dries’ background on art? Not through his employment, which was for an import company.
I guess just that he was Theo’s friend.
(I must admit I had a little fun revealing that Dries was a bit bullied by his strong-willed wife Annie.)
So Jo puts up with mansplaining, being talked over, ignored, receiving unwanted sexual advances, being overlooked and disregarded when it came to receiving credit for sales of Vincent’s art. Meanwhile, she’s called manipulative, cunning and a little too “enthusiastic.”
But as the fifteen years I cover in my novel go by, Jo gradually makes in-roads into the male-dominated art dealing field and does bring Vincent to their attention. A number of these dealers become her true friends.
Vincent may be well known, but I want my novel to bring to light how Jo got it done. How she forced the world to slow down and take notice: Her mad eccentric brother-in-law artist was genius.
Getting the power brokers to treat her seriously stood in her way.
I recognized some of her tactics.
I’ve used them myself.
Influence Behind the Scenes
As I researched, my goal was to identify ways that Jo had agency. When was she a spark? The first domino to tip and cause a chain reaction in a classic domino run?
At times, this led me to interpret events differently than official biographies.
Here’s an example: In 1892 a series of articles on Vincent ran in a Parisian art magazine called Le Mercure de France. The articles included excerpts of letters written by Vincent when he lived in Arles, the volatile incident when he cut off his ear while living with Paul Gauguin.
The Mercure stories also included several of Vincent’s drawings. Émile Bernard, an artist and faithful friend of Vincent’s, had introduced the idea of publishing his own correspondence with Vincent to the Mercure editor Alfred Vallette.
But instead of a single article, coverage of the letters and drawings spanned over five Mercure issues. Vincent’s personality is so vivid and provocative, I imagined the Parisian public gobbling up each issue like a serialized Dickens book.
From a PR standpoint, the episode idea was brilliant. It captured the Parisian public’s curiosity. The letters invited the reader into Vincent’s artist mind. His anguish, his hopes, his worries. How he painted several sunflower paintings to decorate the little house he would share with Gauguin in hopes that they could start an artist community together.
And alongside the letters ran Vincent’s drawings, showing what he was creating at the time.
It ignited intrigue, raising awareness of Vincent.
So, what did Jo have to do with this?
My research recorded that Émile reached out to Jo for additional letters to supplement his private correspondence with Vincent. Not long before she had completed the colossal task of organizing the hundreds of saved letters Theo had from Vincent. Theo was a packrat, but not a neat one. Jo had painstakingly put the letters in chronological order, sometimes penciling missing dates into the top margins.
She knew what a remarkable period of time Arles was in Vincent’s artist life. She also had the benefit of her conversations with Theo and the anguish Vincent suffered then. She too, had thought about publishing the collection (she would do this a few decades later), so when Bernard reached out to her, she was thrilled. She pulled out the Arles letters, translated Vincent’s scribble from Dutch into French, then mailed them to Bernard with the note, “You will know better than me what should be published.”
(How many times have I grit my teeth and been deferential when needing something from an authority figure?) Yes,I know Jo’s quote sounds like she didn’t have an opinion, but I believe she had to after reading and translating all those letters.
Next, communicating with Bernard got Jo a direct connection to the editor Valette.
(How many times have a leaned on a sponsor to get me an introduction to the influential person who controlled what I wanted to make happen?) Now Jo corresponded directly with the editor. When he requested drawings to publish alongside the excerpts, she sent ten. Enough for not just one issue, but at least five editions.
A series of articles that would end up extending across several months.
Keeping Vincent before a fascinated public.
Again and again, I saw Jo work with and through others behind the scenes as a no-fuss fact of life in a patriarchal society. Gradually, her reputation would improve and she would be listened to in her own right, but she had to earn her way there.
I recognized the nuances of how she got things done.
Pulling from my life experience
Imagine the C-suite of a steel pipe distributor (think stockyards full of steel pipe pyramids) and electronics circuit board manufacturer (imagine rows of women doing the detailed work of securing tiny wires) in the 1980’s. Those company conference rooms were all men. My communications role gave me access to them.
Then when I did a career pivot and took my writing skills into the financial services field, I noticed a few more women populated leadership ranks but the male-dominated power dynamic still largely prevailed. In order to be successful, I had to adapt and respond in the environment I was in.
It wasn’t a stretch for me to imagine Jo doing so too.
Vincent van Gogh is a household name. It would be so rewarding for Jo to be acknowledged as the person who brought him to us. Let me acknowledge that I don’t have the deep expertise of art historians who are painstaking in faithfully recording facts as they find them. This essay’s intention is not to diminish their work in any way. It’s simply to show that they did their work so well, I saw myself in Jo’s story. Perhaps in ways not intended.
I hope readers do the same with mine.
Warmly,
P.S. My novel, Saving Vincent, A Novel of Jo van Gogh, will publish in April 2025. Stay turned for more info!
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