My dear Theo,
I'm sending you a little sketch at long last to give you at least some idea of the direction my work is taking. Because I feel quite well again today. My eyes are still tired, but I had a new idea all the same and here is the sketch of it.
As always a size 30 canvas.
This time it's simply my bedroom. Only here everything depends on the colour, and by simplifying it I am lending it more style, creating an overall impression of rest or sleep. In fact, a look at the picture ought to rest the mind, or rather the imagination.
The walls are pale violet. The floor-is red tiles.
The wood of the bed and the chairs is the yellow of fresh butter, the sheet and the pillows very light lime green.
The blanket scarlet.
The window green.
The washstand orange, the basin blue.
The doors lilac.
And that's all-nothing of any consequence in this shuttered room.
The sturdy lines of the furniture should also express undisturbed rest.
Portraits on the wall, and a mirror, and a hand towel, and some clothes. The frame-because there is no white in the picture-will be white.
This by way of revenge for the enforced rest I have had to take.
I shall work on it again all day tomorrow, but you can see how simple the conception is. The shadows and the cast shadows are left out and it is painted in bright flat tints like the Japanese prints.
It will form a contrast to, for example, the Tarascon diligence at the Night Cafe.
I am not writing you a long letter because I intend starting very early tomorrow in the cool morning light so as to finish my canvas.
How are your aches and pains? Don't forget to let me know.
I hope you'll write one of these days.
One day I'll do some sketches for you of the other rooms too.
With a good handshake.
Ever yours,
Vincent.
