Episode #96: Cherchez La Femme, or The Woman Behind the Art--Johanna Van Gogh (Season 11, Episode 5)
There’s a phrase in the French language that goes, “Cherchez la femme.” In translation, it means “find the woman,” or “look for the woman,” and typically it’s derogatory, a phrase used as an explanation for the reasons why a man may be behaving badly. Cherchez la femme, some say, meaning that “woman troubles” are assumed to be at the core of any man’s real problems. But I like the idea of appropriating the phrase “cherchez la femme” to mean that we’re going to look for the women who made things right in art history, who bolstered and brought attention to some big-name artists.
Welcome to season 11 of ArtCurious, where we’re highlighting the lives and work of the women who supported some of the world’s favorite artists. Today, I am so excited to share with you the life of Jo van Gogh-Bonger, the woman who single-handedly made Vincent van Gogh, her brother-in-law, a household name.
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Episode Credits:
Production and Editing by Kaboonki. Theme music by Alex Davis. Logo by Dave Rainey. Additional music by Storyblocks. Research help by Mary Beth Soya.
ArtCurious is sponsored by Anchorlight, an interdisciplinary creative space, founded with the intent of fostering artists, designers, and craftspeople at varying stages of their development. Home to artist studios, residency opportunities, and exhibition space Anchorlight encourages mentorship and the cross-pollination of skills among creatives in the Triangle.
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Episode Transcript
Some people think that visual art is dry, boring, lifeless. But the stories behind those paintings, sculptures, drawings, and photographs are weirder, more outrageous, or more fun than you can imagine. In ArtCurious Season 11, we’re highlighting the lives and work of the women who supported some of the world’s favorite artists. Today, I am so excited to share with you the life of Jo van Gogh-Bonger, the woman who single-handedly made Vincent van Gogh, her brother-in-law, a household name. This is the ArtCurious Podcast, exploring the unexpected, the slightly odd, and the strangely wonderful in Art History. I'm Jennifer Dasal.
I’ve spoken many times before on this podcast that by no means am I going to be exhaustive in this podcast—there’s just no way to cover everything, and not even everything that I personally want to cover, which spans huge swaths of time, cultures, communities, artistic periods, and styles. But there are certain people that I’ve long wanted to feature on the show, and I’m finally getting the chance to share the story of Jo van Gogh with you—because y’all know that I’m a Vincent Van Gogh person, and without Jo, we might never have gotten to know Vincent quite so well—if not at all. So let’s celebrate this unique, tireless, smart woman who brought one of art history’s favorite artists to the attention of the public.
Johanna Gezina Bonger was born on October 4, 1862, one of seven children (though other sources have claimed her as one of ten) from a middle-class family from Amsterdam, in Holland, or The Netherlands today. Her father, Hendrik, was an insurance broker, and her mother, Hermina, stayed at home to tend to the household. Johanna was called Jo by most—and it was the nickname she preferred to use throughout her life. Family and friends reported her as a, quote, “cheerful and lively child” who loved to while away the hours playing the piano. She was also wildly smart, and her parents fostered her education by allowing her to study English, something that was not common among her other sisters, who were instead asked to stay home and contribute to domestic help. And Jo took to this—even ending up with the equivalent of a college degree in Amsterdam in the late 19th century at a time when—say it with me—women weren’t often able to do so.
But those educational opportunities came in handy for young Jo’s career prospects. After graduation, she moved to London, where she worked at the library of the British Museum for a few months, before returning to Holland to work as an English teacher, first in the town of Elburg, about 80 kilometers east of Amsterdam, and then in Utrecht, 42 kilometers from Amsterdam. But it was back in Amsterdam in the late 1880s that she met a friend of one of her brothers—a man named Theo van Gogh.
If you know much about Vincent van Gogh—or really, even just a little bit of his biography, then you know the importance of his brother, Theo, to his life. Theo acted as Vincent’s confidante, financial backer, supporter, and all-around metaphorical guardian angel. He worked as art dealer with the firm Goupil and Company, whose Parisian outpost he now manned after stints at Goupil in Brussels and The Hague.
From all accounts, it was Theo who fell in love first—super intensely and desperately. He confessed that he had fallen in love with Jo at first sight, seeing something amazing in her that he had long sought in others but had never found. She was everything he had ever dreamed of—and Jo? Well, she liked his cultured lifestyle and his intellectualism, but she wasn’t exactly in love with him yet. Nevertheless, Theo proposed very quickly after only briefly knowing Jo—a proposal which she turned down, pragmatically noting in her diary, quote, “I could not say ‘yes’ to something like that.” But we know, of course, that she would eventually say yes. Jo agreed to an epistolary relationship, with the two of them writing letters back and forth over the span of nearly two years—and its during that time that we can trace her feelings deepening until they finally matched his—and in 1889, those crazy kids made it official: Johanna Gezina married Theo van Gogh that April.
The newly-deemed Mrs. Theo van Gogh began her married life in Paris. And truly this was Paris at one of its most colorful and enriching periods—at least for those who could afford the city’s middle-class pleasures, as Jo probably could. This was the Belle Époque, a time filled with cultural stimulation and diversion. And in art, it was a powerhouse. Theo, as an art lover and an art dealer, was especially interested in artists who were breaking some of the rules of the traditional art academies. He idolized the Impressionists, who were, by now, the major talk of the art scene and were practically established by now. And Theo was also super supportive of the next generation of artists—those risk-takers who were following in the experimental footsteps of groups like the Impressionists. And one of those new, experimental artists was his brother, Vincent.
Theo was Vincent’s greatest advocate and was the person who actually recommended that his brother focus on making art full-time when Vincent’s previous forays into other careers, as a pastor, art dealer, and teacher, didn’t pan out. Theo also footed the bill for Vincent’s life while the elder Van Gogh was trying to get his career off the ground, and that was then a reality, if not a burden, that Jo van Gogh had to accept. With Theo’s art dealer connections, it was natural for Vincent to pass along his finished paintings to his brother so that Theo could put them up for exhibition and sale, which he did to the best of his abilities. This meant that Jo’s Parisian apartment was chock-full with canvas after canvas, effectively sharing her living space, her husband—her life—with her brother-in-law. And she seems to have managed it well—when Theo sometimes did not. Theo, the far more level-headed and emotionally stable of the Van Gogh brothers, spent a lot of his time worrying about Vincent. And to be fair, he had a lot of reasons to worry. Vincent was turbulent, irrational, and impulsive, and he experienced a bunch of both physical and mental impairments, which vastly affected his mood and abilities. He also underwent a nervous breakdown, which led both to his legendary ear-mutilation and to his voluntary commitment mental asylum in the small town of Saint-Rémy-de-Provence in 1889. But there was, at least, one incredible bright spot in Theo and Jo’s lives: their son was born in January of 1890, and then named him Vincent Willem in honor of his beloved uncle.
In Spring 1890, Jo and Theo received a letter from Vincent, informing them that he was preparing to make a trip to Paris—and he would be stopping in to visit with them and to meet new little baby Vincent. Jo noted in her diary that she expected, from Theo’s anguished concern, that Vincent would show up looking like, quote, “an enfeebled mental patient,” which, as we know, he kind of was--or at least had been, since his time at the asylum—but when he arrived, she was taken aback by his joie de vivre. Describing him, she wrote, “Before me was a sturdy, broad-shouldered man with a healthy color, a cheerful look in his eyes and something very resolute in his appearance.” Here he was, energetic, spirited, enthusiastic.
But the image of Vincent as a cheerful, productive, and hopeful about the future wasn’t to last. Just a few weeks after his visit to Paris, Vincent established himself in the nearby town of Auvers-sur-Oise, and it was then, in July 1890, that he died at the age of 37 after he shot himself (or did he?) in a nearby field. Theo arrived by train to stay at his brother’s side in his final hours. (And, PS, if you think it’s weird that Vincent van Gogh went from cheery to suicidal in just a matter of weeks, you’re not alone—and if you haven’t yet listened to our episode on the death of Van Gogh, I heartily recommend that you do so—that’s episode #2, which we re-released as a two-parter in late 2020 as part of our “Listener’s Favorites” series. It’ll be linked in the blog post and show notes for this episode).
Quite understandably, Theo van Gogh was absolutely devastated by the loss of his big brother. And it broke him. Truly. Only about three months after Vincent’s death Theo suffered a complete physical collapse, probably triggered by a transition into the latter stages of a syphilis infection contracted years before, but of course Vincent’s death didn’t help. Theo’s condition worsened painfully over the next couple of months, and then Theo, just 33, died in January 1891, only six months after his brother’s own death.
I hate imagining Jo at this moment—at age 28, she unexpectedly transformed into a widow and a single mother to a one-year-old, living in Paris. She also became the owner of the single largest collection of the works of Vincent van Gogh—including paintings, drawings, prints, and his letters-- inheriting them all from the deceased Van Gogh brothers. Jo understood the value of Vincent’s works. She understood that these paintings, and the man who had created them, were different; they were special. And she then decided to focus her attention on two things: raising and supporting her child and bringing Vincent van Gogh’s works to a wider and appreciative audience.
Coming up next, Jo gets to work on the seemingly impossible job of promoting a little-known artist—we’ll learn about that, and more, right after these quick messages. Thanks for listening.
Welcome back to ArtCurious.
Jo van Gogh didn’t receive a lot of immediate support for the role of chief promoter for the works of Vincent van Gogh: family and friends close to Jo felt that this project of hers held her back, while they wanted to her to move on. Your husband was dead, and so is her brother-in-law—It’s a tragedy, but it happens, they said. Just sell all of Vincent’s paintings for whatever you can get for them, and call it done. But Jo knew better. She respected her husband’s opinion, his surety about Vincent and his works—and she wanted to carry on his work. And she made this clear in her journal in 1891, where she wrote that she was, quote, “not without things to do,” meaning that she understood the lack of time she had to spend on the project, but at the same time she felt devoted to the project, sharing her need to, quote, “make sure that it is seen and appreciated as much as possible.”
Admittedly things were a bit slow-going at the outset. Not terribly long after Theo’s death, Jo was approached by Émile Bernard, an artist and writer who was himself a friend of Vincent van Gogh’s. In considering her predicament, Bernard suggested that she leave all of Vincent’s paintings in Paris in his care, as Jo was planning to move back to Holland. But that didn’t sit right with Jo—and I think it was a good move, because I’m a bit suspicious of Bernard’s intentions here. So when she did return to Holland, she did so with Vincent’s paintings in tow.
Jo van Gogh didn’t return to her hometown of Amsterdam when she and little Vincent moved. Instead, she chose a village called Bussum, today about a half-hour drive from Amsterdam. And to me, it looks like Jo was very specific in choosing Bussum, and that she did it specifically to help Vincent’s posthumous career. Bussum was known at that time as a small but lively hub of artistic and intellectual life, and one of Jo’s acquaintances, an artist, professor, and critic named Jan Veth, lived there. She knew that if she could get Veth to champion Vincent’s works that her road to recognition for her brother-in-law would be a far easier path to trod, so to Bussum —and Veth—she moved. But Jan Veth wasn’t originally all that into Van Gogh’s paintings, despite Jo’s encouragement. He dismissed them, and Jo—Jo, of course, was a woman who had no experience with art criticism or sales, and therefore couldn’t be trusted, in the eyes of many, to be a good judge of artistic merit. This would be a recurring criticism of Jo’s efforts--and yet Jo prevailed. Not too long after her disappointing first meeting with Jan Veth, Jo had an epiphany—Vincent’s paintings, while incredible on their own, were made so much more personal, intimate, and amazing when understood alongside his thoughtful, eloquent letters—those beautiful hand-written notes he sent often to his beloved brother, all of which Theo had kept—and Jo had in her possession. And so she gave Jan Veth a small envelope stuffed with selections from Vincent’s letters, asking him to give them—and the paintings—a chance.
And it worked. Veth was charmed by what he called, quote, “the astonishing clairvoyance of great humility” in an artist who quote, “sought the raw root of things.” With Jan Veth as one of her first allies, Jo was ready to start tackling a bigger audience.
It’s entirely possible that Jo had learned some tips on the art market from Theo, who—remember—was an art dealer. So she knew that she had to be smart about her promotion and sale of Vincent’s work. First, we know that she approached Vincent’s oeuvre with that two-pronged approach of using Van Gogh’s writings to support and add meaning to his artwork. Second, she used her network of friends and connections to spread the word slowly and gently about every single exhibition she arranged, no matter how big or small. Jo’s system was very grassroots, but those made all the difference in the eventual spread of acclaim and esteem for Vincent’s artwork, because her connections in Bussum, Amsterdam, and further afield in Holland enabled her to coordinate around 20 exhibitions of Vincent’s paintings between the years of 1892 and 1900. And third, Jo knew better than to sell a ton of inventory right off the bat, flooding the market. It’s basic economics, but she understood this innately: she needed to drum up interest in Vincent and his works, offering select pieces up for exhibition or sale only when the time was right, and collectors were clamoring. To know all this about Jo van Gogh, a widow and single mother at the turn of the 20th century, is just incredible. So many professionals in the art world underestimated her, thinking her an amateur, but she proved each and every one of them wrong, and in the process, she almost single-handedly grew Vincent van Gogh from a little-known painter to a household name.
And Jo wasn’t done yet. The rest of the story is coming up next—right after this break. Come right back.
Welcome back to ArtCurious.
After she conquered Holland, Jo van Gogh knew that international success would be the next big step to gaining major recognition for Vincent’s artworks. Connecting to some of the major art dealers in Europe—especially in France and Germany—would make the most sense, she knew, but Jo wasn’t ready to hand over Vincent’s works, and her control over his legacy, to just anybody. So throughout the first two decades of the 20th century, she continued to act as the linchpin in the estate of Vincent van Gogh. She worked directly with dealers to negotiate sale prices and to manage inventory, and slowly but surely, Vincent’s works began filtering into private and public collections throughout some of Europe’s biggest cities and featuring as central works in large-scale museum exhibitions. And the connection with museum exhibitions—that was the most important element for Jo van Gogh. Museums for many—even today—signify a kind of acceptance of a work of art as critical, meaningful, or noteworthy. Museums breed a sense of cultural affirmation, whether or not it might be warranted—and that’s an argument for another day--but we still shouldn’t minimize their importance . It is a big deal when a work enters a museum collection. Jo wanted that for her brother-in-law, for his work, for her husband who believed in Vincent so strongly. And she wanted it because she, too, believed that Vincent’s work was worthy of international and enduring acclaim.
Knowing that museums would provide the best route to that acclaim, Jo achieved something rather stunning in 1905. She identified the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam, which was just beginning to expand its holdings of contemporary art and had a new curator at the helm, as a progressive and exciting place to showcase Dutch art. And Jo convinced the museum to hold a career retrospective of Vincent van Gogh’s works—a landmark exhibition showcasing—get this—484 works of art, a huge number of works, and the exhibition of the most works by Vincent van Gogh to be exhibited at any given time, a record it still holds today. But here’s the most incredible part: Jo van Gogh funded it entirely herself. I want to take this moment to insert the fact that just four years prior, in 1901, Jo had remarried, and her second husband, an artist named Johan Cohen Gosschalk, was very supportive of his wife’s passion project, so it’s likely that Jo had both the emotional and financial support to fund this major exhibition. But in my eyes, that doesn’t at all diminish her success here. She did everything—not only offering incredible and iconic works of art, which included, for example, works that had already been sold, like the iconic Starry Night from 1889. But she also managed everything else, from designing and printing posters to advertise the exhibition, to assembling a VIP guest list for the show’s opening, even going so far, according to author Russell Shorto, as to buy bow ties for the museum’s staff to make sure that they were appropriately attired to host the opening. But again, think of it: by engaging a museum—and an acclaimed one at that—to host her show; by suggesting the need for a VIP list; by asking employees to dress in ties—all of that was a brilliant calculation on Jo’s part to signal that Vincent’s works were special, important, unique. And, of course, someone would then have to pay a pretty penny to add one of these works to their art collection. It was the single event that exploded the reputation of Van Gogh—a reputation, as we know, that only grew, and continues to grow today.
As she continued to work to arrange exhibitions and sales of Vincent’s work around the world, she also continued to recommend that the best way to appreciate and understand Vincent’s unique way of seeing the world and expressing it through his artwork was to read his letters. She knew this firsthand from her early experiences with critics like Jan Veth, who saw themselves mirrored in Vincent’s hopes and dreams. So throughout much of the first decade of the 20th century, she worked painstakingly to edit a selection of Vincent’s letters to Theo, which was then published in 1914 in both Dutch and German translations. Jo, with her personal connection to Vincent’s works, added an introduction to allow for readers to better understand Vincent’s biography and his relationship with Theo, and she also even went so far as to work on her own English translation of the letters, too. But Jo’s consideration of an English language translation shows that she was looking to break into the American market in particular by the mid-19-teens. But this, as Russell Shorto explains, would prove to be one of Jo’s most challenging endeavors. America was, in comparison to Europe, much more prudish about art and much more conservative in their tastes, and Jo, quite frustratingly, was met with rejection there in her early attempts to secure recognition for Vincent van Gogh’s works. As she would write to a friend, quote, “I supposed the American taste in art was advanced enough, fully to appreciate van Gogh in which I have been rather mistaken.” But this would eventually change, but not without some major work on Jo’s part. But as we’ve discovered, Jo didn’t do things halfway: she gave it her all. And that meant that she dropped everything and moved to New York for three years. She was a widow a second time over after Gosschalk’s death in 1912, her son was grown, she was 54 years old, and more committed than ever to the cause of fine art.
She returned, in the 1920s, to her hope that the English translation of Vincent’s letters would finally come to fruition, but when publishers wanted to produce an abridged version rather than the whole slew of letters between the Van Gogh brothers, she balked—and it wouldn’t be until 1927 that the first English edition would be published. But in every situation, Jo van Gogh stuck to her guns. She didn’t back down, and she refused to work with those who second-guessed her instincts or undercut her ideas. That’s one of the reasons why she was so successful, selling upwards of 190 paintings and 55 drawings by Vincent van Gogh during her lifetime.
After three years in New York, Jo returned to Holland, where she moved between homes in Amsterdam and in the Dutch countryside, enjoying her time with her family, especially her grandchildren. But her commitment to Vincent—and Theo—never faltered. She passed along her life’s work to her son, Vincent Willem, who continued the family tradition of rallying around his uncle’s work. When questioned about her ongoing commitment, she would reply, quote, “All of this… is very satisfying for me, for it’s the only thing that I can do in the memory of my husband and of Vincent.” She died in 1925 at age 62—and today, Vincent van Gogh is one of the most prized artists, with museums around the world proudly showcasing his paintings, drawings, and prints. Vincent made the work, and those works are what keep visitors coming and clamoring for more, but Jo van Gogh? Jo van Gogh made Van Gogh happen. Had she not been there from day 1 to act as a tireless and enthusiastic advocate for Vincent van Gogh’s life and works, he would likely never have made it to the pantheon of art history, never would be among the highest-selling and most valuable artists of all time, never would become who I lovingly call “art history’s favorite boyfriend.” So if you love Van Gogh, then you have Jo to thank.
Thank you for listening to the ArtCurious Podcast. This episode was written, produced, and narrated by me, Jennifer Dasal. HUGE thanks to Mary Beth Soya for her awesome research for this episode and for almost all of our episodes this season. If you liked this episode, then definitely head online to read Jo’s journal at bongerdiaries.org, and look up the incredible work of author and art historian Hans Luijten, who has researched Jo extensively and even wrote the first-ever biography of her. So far, it is only available in Dutch but an English translation is hopefully right around the corner. The ArtCurious theme music is by Alex Davis at alexdavismusic.com, and our logo is by Dave Rainey at daveraineydesign.com. Our podcast is co-produced by Kaboonki - podcasts, creative video, and more. Subscribe to their show, Subgenre, a podcast about the movies, available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and at subgenrepodcast.com. Kaboonki: Leave your mark. The ArtCurious Podcast is sponsored primarily by Anchorlight. Anchorlight is a creative space, founded with the intent of fostering artists, designers, and craftspeople at varying stages of their development. Home to artist studios, residency opportunities, and exhibition space Anchorlight encourages mentorship and the cross-pollination of skills among creatives in the Triangle. Please visit anchorlightraleigh.com.
The ArtCurious Podcast is also fiscally sponsored by VAE Raleigh, a 501c3 nonprofit creativity incubator, which means you can donate tax-free to “ArtCurious” to show your support. To find the donation links and for more details about our show, please visit our website: artcuriouspodcast.com. We’re also on Twitter and Instagram at artcuriouspod.
Check back with us soon as we explore the lives of more incredible women in the unexpected, slightly odd, and strangely wonderful in art history.
