They make Vincent Van Gogh lunchboxes. Starry Night umbrellas. Switch plates. Mugs. Ornaments. Pillow cases. Temporary tattoos. They even make soaps with Starry Night printed on the paper wrappers. Vincent Van Gogh failed to sell a single painting during his lifetime, yet over two hundred years later, items emblazoned with his works are flying off the shelves at $14.95. It seems that over 
the course of time, people have become more willing to accept Van Gogh’s artistic ideals. Yet in that time, we have also lost sight of the motivations behind them, making for an interesting irony.
A preliminary gloss of the meaning of The Starry Night for Van Gogh is necessary to understand this incredible irony. Both the prominent cypress and the stars themselves were symbols of death, a fact that Van Gogh acknowledged in his letters. Their prominence represents the prominence of death in the artist’s mind at the time of the piece’s creation. The lights of the town are dwarfed by the huge glowing haloes of starlight: this is man’s failure to conquer death, which outshines him in its infinity. The swirling blues of the sky lend to the sky the same quality of liquidity that Van Gogh has painted into the ground; both have the same solidity and offer the same amount of comfort. This is a manifestation of Van Gogh’s inability to decide 
if he belonged in Heaven or on earth. Ultimately, he would decide that he belonged among the stars. He shot himself in the chest on July 27, 1890 (Brooks).
In this context, there is an intense irony in the present ubiquity of Starry Night. As much as modern viewers appreciate the beautiful hues of blue that swirl throughout the sky and the glowing haloes of yellow starlight, they appreciate these characteristics without understanding their full meaning. They cover their mugs and walls and switch plates with a collection of images of death, with the manifestation of the extreme suffering of an individual. It is debated whether this is 
of significant concern: can we appreciate the aesthetics of something without understanding the motives behind its creation? How many owners of Van Gogh merchandise would abandon these possessions if they were to know the meaning behind those glowing gold haloes? Do the owners of these items have a responsibility to understand the meaning of the works for the artist?
Fortunately for your tired eyes, we are not here at this moment to answer these questions, merely to raise them for consideration. Without the opinion of the artist himself, there is little point in pontificating on either side of the question. Perhaps Van Gogh would be pleased at finally gaining recognition for his incredible talents. Perhaps he would be chagrined at seeing this canvas into which he poured his anguish ending up on the little paper 
wrappers that come on bars of soap.
This idea, however, is part of a very profound and very important question on the nature of art itself. Is it the meaning intended by the artist, or the meaning perceived by the viewer, that matters? Is it neither? Is it both at once? This question does not only apply to Van Gogh, and does not only apply to paintings. It applies to music, to poetry, to prose, to theatre, and to any expression that someone may call “art.� While it is a question as debatable as any, it is undoubtedly worthy of serious consideration.