Three Masters in the Grasp of Fate

Here, I will introduce you to three master painters I admire. And I will share their stories about their pursuit of becoming artists.

The first one is the 19th-century Flemish painter Barnabas Van Rijck (1859-1890), a true master of Post-Impressionism.

Next, we have Béla Tóthfalusi (1901-1984), a Hungarian artist who faced the realities of World War II.

The last one is the contemporary visionary, Ukrainian painter Yaryna Tereshchenko (1992).

Barnabas Van Rijck (1859-1890)

Barnabas was a humble man from the Flemish village of Maasmechelen in Belgium and lived almost his entire life there. His only connection to the outside world was his cousin Gustave who resided in Paris. Gustave started his life in Paris as a worker, but with relentless determination, he became a trader. From his modest beginnings as a street peddler, he managed to establish a small stationery shop. For Barnabas, stationery items that Gustave sent to him were his only source of amusement. What did these parcels include? Postcards, notebooks, pens, expired paints, and more.

One day, Barnabas stumbled upon a small print among Gustave’s gifts that features Jean-François Millet’s painting Rest After Work. In this artwork, a peasant man and woman lie on a haystack and enjoy their midday sleep. This sight left a deep mark on Barnabas. He had often witnessed similar scenes while working alongside village laborers, but this painting portrayed reality in an entirely new light for him. The warm colors in the picture seemed to convey emotions far more intensely than the gray moments of everyday life. It occurred to him that the world around him flows with great emotions and awaits discovery when viewed from the right perspective. And at that moment, he whispered to himself: Yes, I can do it too, I can paint the world around me just like Millet does.

From Village to Urban Chaos

Barnabas started drawing sketches with Gustave’s gift of pencils and paper. He was eager to share his creations with Gustave and hoped to hear his thoughts. Gustave was pleasantly surprised. He showed Barnabas’ works to a circle of fellow painters. They also found them promising. Because of this validation, Barnabas started to grow a desire to meet those painters in Paris.

In 1877, he visited Gustave in Paris, where he was introduced to the visionary works of post-impressionist pioneers like Paul Cézanne, Georges Seurat, Émile Bernard, Paul Gauguin, and, of course, Van Gogh, who interestingly shares a similar story with him as his contemporary. On this trip, inspiration flooded Barnabas’ senses and reshaped his artistic path. He developed a fresh approach to still lifes and landscapes in his oil paintings. His works breathed life with their striking, contrasting, and bright colors so that his unique style blossomed.

However, among all those colors and creativity, a shadow loomed over Barnabas. His masterpieces remained hidden from the spotlight. Though a few art dealers in Paris had an interest in his works and showcased them in some small exhibitions, he remained overlooked by the art world. Barnabas had to go back to his village with a bitter disappointment. But he clung to his passion, and indeed, tirelessly created over 500 pieces throughout his short life. In addition to nature scenes, he also portrayed the people in his village. The entire village soon overflowed with the beauty of Barnabas’ artworks.

Barnabas was hoping that his artworks would find eager buyers one day. So he borrowed countless brushes, canvases, and paints from Gustave. However, the paintings he sent to Paris remained unsold, and the weight of his debt grew heavier. Despite the artistic riches, the cruel absence of financial success and public recognition slowly destroyed Barnabas’ spirit and well-being. In the grip of poverty and overlooked by the world, Barnabas took his last breath when he was just 31 in 1895 (likely because of what we now believe was tuberculosis). And a long and silent wait began before the world would finally discover the brilliance of his works.

A Profit-driven Heart: Xavier De Vos

In 1901, a geologist named André Dumont discovered a coal mine in Maasmechelen. Although the chaos of the First World War delayed the process a bit, the coal mines started operating in 1923 and triggered a remarkable transformation in the region. Ambitious capitalists gradually acquired the land piece by piece. The humble house belonging to the Barnabas’ family was among these acquisitions. Xavier De Vos, an estate agent from Brussels decided to purchase the entire Barnabas family estate, house and all, along with its contents, which included Barnabas’ paintings.

To Xavier’s surprise, these paintings were unlike anything he expected to find in such a rustic place. With the support of a few friends, he reached out to renowned art dealers in Paris to show the pieces he found. The art dealers were skeptical at the beginning, but with Xavier’s persuasive influence, they began to exhibit these unique works in various corners of Paris. And it didn’t take long for a wave through the art world. Artists and critics were fascinated by Barnabas’ paintings. They discussed that Barnabas’ works not only reflected Post-impressionism but also pushed the movement into new territory. Some critics labeled Barnabas as a delayed but tremendous pioneer of Post-impressionism. Besides that, speculations arose in the art world: Perhaps other renowned artists might have secretly stolen from him.

Treasure Hunting in Maasmechelen

Art dealers from all over Europe flocked to Maasmechelen and competed to get the paintings Barnabas had made for his neighbors. Among them, there was even an art dealer from Paris who had previously turned down numerous Barnabas’ works which had come his way through Gustave. How could he have missed such a genius back then? He attributed it to his inexperience and hustle at the time. He believed he had cracked the code on good artworks after years of experience. Or was it only the human drive to chase what’s trending, much like to flies buzzing around shit?

Anyway, Barnabas Van Rijck became the art sensation of the 20th century. His painting Cypresses at Sunset holds the record for the highest auction price among his works, $90 million. Some of his masterpieces are now exhibited in the halls of the Louvre Museum in Paris and the Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium. Perhaps we could name Barnabas’ story as a delayed fame and justice. But, as you follow the narrative of his Hungarian successor from the next generation, you might ponder that the destiny of Barnabas’ artworks was not as unfortunate as it seemed.

Béla Tóthfalusi (1901-1984)

Béla was an ordinary man who ran a haberdashery shop on Király Street in Budapest’s 8th district. However, his true passion was painting. From an early age, he had a fascination for art history and wanted an education in this field. However, after his father’s passing, he found himself managing the haberdashery shop. He put aside his education plans but dedicated his free time to self-improvement. During walks on Margaret Island, a piece of land in the heart of the Danube River in Budapest, he would lose himself in contemplation. And sometimes he would settle in a quiet corner with art books.

Béla’s first watercolor painting occurred during his high school years. However, his efforts were met with disheartening critiques from teachers and friends. According to one teacher, his paintings lacked meaning and appeared childlike. Indeed it was true. Béla primarily employed geometric shapes and focused on the harmony of colors rather than focusing on concrete meanings. He experimented with various color palettes that range from monochromatic to multicolored compositions. And yes, his works might have appeared childlike, but Béla believed that creating art with childlike simplicity was more challenging than it appeared. Regrettably, his friends and teachers failed to grasp the depth of Béla’s creative vision. Faced with disparaging comments, Béla became too sensitive about sharing his paintings with anyone.

A Full-time Dreamer

In his later years, Béla continued to paint, both in watercolor and oil. But he kept his creations a well-guarded secret, not even sharing his artworks with his closest family. He quietly immersed himself in various artistic movements like Expressionism, Cubism, Futurism, Surrealism, and Abstract art, and interpreted these movements through his unique vision. Béla had a dream: He imagined that one day, long after he was gone, future generations would stumble upon his hidden works and appreciate the beauty he had created. And, he adopted an idealist notion: The more an artist stands apart from their own time, the more they truly belong to the ages that follow. This was his way of finding contentment. For him, a joyous life was one where he could exercise his creative abilities without inhibition. He created paintings, and that was all he needed.

During World War II, Bela’s artistry ironically blossomed during the Nazis’ oppression. His haberdashery shop, normally busy with customers, was disrupted by the chaos of the war which left him with an unexpected surplus of time on his hands. So he found himself in his true passion: Painting. Oddly enough, his business didn’t go too poorly. The local authorities, under Nazis’ control, took over the haberdashery shop of a fellow Jewish on the same street and transformed it into a butcher shop. With that, Béla became the only haberdasher on the street and held a monopoly on his trade.

But it wasn’t all smooth sailing. Béla dedicated a significant portion of his earnings to buy canvases and paints. And buying them was no easy task during the war in Budapest. He discreetly sourced his painting materials from his textile supplier in Switzerland. He smuggled them into his shop alongside his haberdashery goods, like a secret operation.

Dancing in the Shadows

Béla had his secret underground art sanctuary beneath the haberdashery shop. Behind closed doors, he was creating his paintings. But this behavior often left his customers suspicious about whether he sheltered Jewish people who escaped from the Nazis. One day, a customer blew the whistle. And a few days later, a young Nazi officer, accompanied by two soldiers, visited Béla’s shop and executed a thorough search. They uncovered nothing but canvases. However, they subjected Béla to a merciless beating and they demolished some of his artworks.

Béla never forgot the image of that young Nazi officer. When the officer prepared to leave, he lingered for a moment on the stairs. His silhouette projected a haunting specter. In broken Hungarian, he uttered: I like your style. It was the first admiration Béla had heard since his early youth. But he was horrified. What if they returned to confiscate his creations?

In response to this ordeal, he constructed a hidden chamber within his workshop, where he safeguarded each new creation. Every painting found its home within this concealed vault and was sealed off with concrete. He dedicated himself to the task with such effort that it diminished his workspace by nearly two-thirds. His wall of secrecy was a masterpiece itself, no outsider could discern it.

Swiss Socks for Sale

Béla’s suspicions were spot on, but disaster came from the unlikeliest direction. In the early days of 1945, as the Siege of Budapest went on, the Russians approached the city, and a bomb fell upon Béla’s shop. Thankfully, Béla was not present there at the time, but the whole building and his artworks were destroyed.

After losing his business, Béla sought refuge in Switzerland with his wife, Anna, and their children. They hoped for a brighter future after the city’s captured by the Russians at the end of the war. Luckily, they were among the rare few who could settle in Switzerland, thanks to Béla’s British supplier, a well-connected businessman with a broad network across Europe. In Zurich, Béla formed a partnership with this man and they together established a sock workshop. As the years passed, Béla’s dedication and creativity led to the birth of his own sock brand and brought him success as a businessman. The legacy even continued through his children and grandchildren who carried on this business.

But what about his passion for painting? Regrettably, Béla never picked up a brush again until his passing in 1984. At times, he enjoyed the thought that perhaps some of his works had survived and people might stumble upon them. However, Béla’s artistic creations remained hidden from the world’s view. If they were discovered, they could have potentially reshaped the course of art history. But, only a young Nazi officer and two soldiers saw them. That is it, the overwhelming influence of circumstances that faded out countless talents like Béla, whose artistic brilliance remained undiscovered, forever concealed from the world, and lost in history. Nothing we can do now, other than salute those silent contributors of human creativity.

Yaryna Tereshchenko (1992)

Yaryna was born into a white-collar family in Kyiv as an only child. At just 10 years old, she began creating wholly original abstract paintings with Eastern motifs that were apart from the conventions of Western art. But, her paintings remained confined to family and close friends and never went further. As she grew up Yaryna longed for something more, something deeper and broader. One day, she decided to share her works on Instagram and revealed her creative process to the world. People began to take notice of her and followed her works with admiration. But it wasn’t long before she realized the superficiality of it all. A casual selfie photo of her on the streets of Kyiv was garnering just as much attention as her paintings.

With time, she grew fed up with the superficial comments that filled her Instagram posts. She felt that it was inappropriate to seek praise in such a manner. Social media was causing more harm than good. It was failing her to garner the respect and constructive feedback she sought. So she chose to shut down her account. Her friends, often entangled in discussions of self-promotion and networking, attempted to change her perspective, but she insisted on the old saying: Only a cow without milk bellows loudly.

Yaryna was undoubtedly gifted, and her talent was no secret, but she was never labeled as an artist. She wanted to showcase her art in exhibitions, but the art world in Ukraine was dominated by ancient dinosaurs who clung to tradition and state connections. Yaryna, on the other hand, was a revolutionary, who boldly challenged even the contemporary tastes of her time. But they just perceived her as an imitator, a wannabe.

Gods of the Art Education

Yaryna’s parents pushed her towards a more pragmatic field, one with a more guaranteed salary. So, to satisfy her parents’ expectations, she studied in the business administration department at Kyiv National Economic University. She even did an internship at a logistics company during her final year. However, burning questions lingered in her mind: Would she trade her brushes for a briefcase? Should her path echo her parents? In the colorful palette of Yaryna’s dreams, a desire to have a master’s degree in art in Western Europe emerged. However, the canvas of reality was constrained by financial borders. Despite her family’s comfortable income by Ukrainian standards, studying abroad was unfeasible.

Yaryna applied for scholarships to various European countries such as Germany, Belgium, France, and the Netherlands. In general, she easily managed the first stages, but her interviews were a clash of colors. Yaryna wanted to mention her artistic aspirations and her Eastern touches that would blend and move forward the styles of Kandinsky, Klee, Matisse, and Rothko. However, the interviewers’ interests were a different kind. They were asking about universities in her city, her family professions, her economic standings, her ethnic ties, her political stances, and even her gender inclinations.

Yaryna found herself dumbfounded by queries. She felt like a misfit and struggled with the sense that her true self remained unseen to others. On the other hand, the scholarship gods disfavored her idealistic and self-assured attitude. They would prefer someone more moderate who was ready to wear the badge of a third-world citizen, unquestioningly criticize their homeland, and blend into the European dream. Only then she could be included within their acceptable spectrum of diversity.

Despite two years of effort, Yaryna failed to get a scholarship, and she reluctantly joined the ranks of white-collar workers at her internship company. But, then, the storm hit: the Russia-Ukraine war unfolded and changed the script of her narrative.

A Special Military Operation

In the aftermath of the Russia-Ukraine War, which ignited in 2014, the flames reignited in 2022. Russian President Vladimir Putin declared a special military operation in Ukraine which led to another tragic war. Faced with the harsh reality, some Ukrainians sought refuge beyond their borders. Sensing Russia’s aggressive attitude as a looming threat, European nations rallied against a similar disaster that could knock on their doors. In response, supportive gestures and affirmative actions emerged for Ukraine from the European States.

Within this climate, Yaryna found a stroke of luck. A foundation in Berlin has announced a dedicated scholarship quota for Ukrainian citizens, with a particular emphasis on encouraging women to apply. Yaryna applied for this unique scholarship and soon got it. But what was the key to having this chance? A simple declaration of fleeing the war and expressing a damning discourse on Russia.

When Yaryna landed in Berlin, people welcomed her with open arms. Her status as a war refugee garnered extra goodwill. Teachers supported Yaryna’s talent and helped her to exhibit her paintings in Berlin’s small galleries. Critics, gallerists, and the audience receive this resilient artist with warmth. Even once Yarina’s paintings were compared to Picasso’s Guernica by a renowned critic who asserted that they captured the chaotic nature of war.

Ironically, Yarina held no admiration for Picasso’s approaches and had no war-related intentions in her creative process. Her true motivation was different. Yaryna wasn’t just a war victim, she was an artist of extraordinary talent. But, surely, she couldn’t resist the superficial atmosphere surrounding her. They were her unfair advantages and played an important role in gaining the necessary strength to shape a more suitable identity for herself over time.

So, in two years, Yaryna evolved into a promising name in contemporary abstract painting in Europe. Her pieces found home in exhibitions in numerous galleries and museums. Call it fate, luck, or circumstances, Yaryna’s homeland’s tragedy became the catalyst for her rise to recognition. Now, what about Yaryna’s contemporaries in Russia? What destiny awaits them? In a world where the Art and Culture scene is dominated by Western countries, perhaps their future might mirror Barnabas‘ story as the best-case scenario, or, lean towards the Béla. The climate is tough, but who knows?