Self-Portrait with a Straw Hat

Vincent van Gogh’s *Self-Portrait with a Straw Hat* from 1887 is one of those pieces where you can practically smell the oil paint and feel the summer heat radiating off the canvas. The straw hat isn’t just an accessory—it’s practically a character, casting these jagged shadows across his face that make his red beard look like it’s flickering. There’s something restless in the brushwork, especially around the eyes, where the strokes get almost frantic, like he was working too fast to bother blending. You can tell he’s not just painting a face but wrestling with it, you know?
The palette’s got that signature van Gogh tension—earthy ochres clashing with acidic greens in the background, like the colors are arguing. It’s funny because the hat should make it feel casual, but there’s nothing relaxed about it. His gaze drills right past you, not quite confrontational but not inviting either. Compared to his later self-portraits, where the swirls take over everything, this one’s still got one foot in realism, but you can see him starting to bend the rules. The shirt collar’s barely sketched in, just a few impatient slashes of white, like he already knew details were overrated.
What’s wild is how much Paris is in this painting, even though it’s just his face. You can almost hear the café chatter and carriage wheels in the background, the way the city’s energy seeps into those jittery brushstrokes. It’s not a happy painting, exactly, but there’s a raw vitality to it—like he’s testing how far he can push the paint before the whole thing unravels. The hat’s brim tilts at this precarious angle, as if it’s about to slide right off his head, and somehow that feels like the whole mood of the piece: everything’s barely holding together, but that’s where the life is.