regularlyfe:

magicwhodreamer:

Where are we?
”Paris, 2010 AD, and this is the mighty Musée D’Orsay,
home to many of the greatest paintings in history.”
[Vincent and the Doctor]

I genuinely weep at this scene every time I see it. What more could we hope that some whisper, some faint trace of us may continue past our end. And for a man with no hope, a man who has battled demon after demon to stay alive as far as he had in this moment, to see the items he had poured his heart and soul, literally bearing himself to the world, and after having them ridiculed for so long, see them remembered and cherished and adored. 

When the Doctor asks the curator’s opinion of Vincent and his impact, it just breaks my heart, because this man who had tiredly accepted that no one would ever care for his artworks long ago is now told that he is easily one of, if not the most influential artists in history. I can’t put into words the weight I see in this scene. A broken man who’s purest joy in life had made him the laughing stock of the town. What he had been told for years and years, that he was never going to make anything of himself, all his work was complete rubbish, everything he did, everything he loved, was worthless.

And to be told you are admired, loved, even honored for it? 

To have it absolutely confirmed to you that this thing that you loved with all your heart, having already accepted it to be nothing more than the fanciful nonsense of the town drunk, is in fact regarded as some of the greatest works in all history. There is so much here for him, so much that he was unable to receive in his own time, and it is the most beautiful scene. 

I just am overjoyed and overwhelmed at the chance he gets here, to see he isn’t useless. Because nothing breaks my heart more than seeing someone believe the thing they love and adore is pointless. Believe that they themselves are pointless. I just wish that everyone at some point gets a chance in their lives to see this same thing. That they have an impact. That this universe would be fundamentally different were it not for them. That they are important. That they matter.

“To me, Van Gogh is the finest painter of them all. Certainly, the most popular great painter of all time. The most beloved. His command of colour, the most magnificent. He transformed the pain of his tormented life into ecstatic beauty. Pain is easy to portray, but to use your passion and pain to portray the ecstasy and joy and magnificence of our world. No one had ever done it before. Perhaps no one ever will again. To my mind, that strange, wild man who roamed the fields of Provence was not only the world’s greatest artist, but also one of the greatest men who ever lived.”

How is that not one of the most beautiful lines ever spoken? Uniquely wonderful, not due to the content, but the context.

Doctor Who is no where near one of the greatest shows ever written, it isn’t constant deep introspection and sociopolitical commentary, but sometimes it has these shining gems that really do mean the world to me.