Just 27 kilometres north of Paris lies a quiet village that feels less like a place and more like a living canvas. At first glance, Auvers-sur-Oise might appear to be a typical French village, but it rose to fame as the final home of Vincent Van Gogh, one of the most influential painters in history. Van Gogh arrived in May 1890 in search of rest, treatment, and inspiration, and even today, his creative energy seems to echo through every wheat field, crooked lane, and blossoming tree.
During his brief time in Auvers-sur-Oise, Van Gogh produced a prolific number of artworks, nearly one painting a day, as if each canvas poured straight from his soul. If you want to connect with Van Gogh as an artist and a man chasing peace and beauty in a world that offered him very little, this is the place to begin.
- How to Get to Auvers-sur-Oise from Paris
- Map of Van Gogh Walking Tour
- Vincent Van Gogh in Auvers-sur-Oise
- La Pâtisserie des Gourmands
- The Church at Auvers
- Mairie d’Auvers-sur-Oise
- Musée de Absinthe
- Château d’Auvers
- Maison du Docteur Gachet
- Maison de Van Gogh
- The Auberge Ravoux
- Village Street and Steps in Auvers with Two Figures
- Racines de Van Gogh
- House-Workshop of Daubigny
- The Path to the Wheat Field
- Tomb of Vincent van Gogh
- La Caverne aux Livres
- View of Auvers with Church
How to Get to Auvers-sur-Oise from Paris
Although there is a direct train from Paris Gare du Nord to Auvers-sur-Oise, it only runs on weekends between April and October. My preferred route is from Gare Saint-Lazare, with a quick transfer in Pontoise to the Beaumont line, which takes you straight to Auvers. You can pay for this journey with your Navigo card; the fare is just €2.50, the same as a standard trip within Paris.
Even with the brief transfer, the journey is easy and scenic, lasting about 44 minutes. The route winds through soft, rolling hills and sleepy towns that feel as though they’ve been lifted from a 19th-century landscape painting.
Map of Van Gogh Walking Tour
Quick Tips for Visiting Auvers-sur-Oise
- An ideal day trip from Paris. With its deep connection to Van Gogh, compact layout, and rich cultural history, Auvers-sur-Oise makes for an unforgettable and easily manageable escape from the city.
- Best visited in spring through early autumn. April to October offers the most rewarding experience, especially if you want to take advantage of the direct weekend train and see the wheat fields glowing golden, just as Van Gogh did.
- Plan for 4 to 6 hours on foot. This allows plenty of time to explore major landmarks, enjoy a relaxed lunch, and take thoughtful pauses throughout the day to soak in the atmosphere.
- Wear comfortable shoes and come prepared. The route is mostly flat with a few cobblestones and hills. Bring a refillable water bottle, a sunhat in warm weather, and a saved or printed map of the Van Gogh walking route (Can also be picked up at the Tourist Office)
- Perfect for solo travelers and families alike. Auvers is a peaceful and welcoming village, ideal for slow, reflective travel whether you’re walking alone, with a partner, or exploring with kids.
- Many sites are free to visit. Outdoor landmarks like the wheat fields, church, and cemetery are open and accessible. A few indoor sites, including the Auberge Ravoux and Maison du Dr. Gachet, charge modest entry fees and during the busy summer months, may require advance booking.
A Soundtrack for Your Walk
Before you step into the world of Van Gogh, consider setting the tone with a soundtrack as tender and textured as his brushstrokes. While Vincent painted in silence, surrounded only by birdsong, wind in the wheat, and the hum of rural life, you can recreate that atmosphere through music that echoes the emotion and spirit of his work. I personally love this soundtrack, and it evokes the music of the time period, as well as what feels like the emotional tempo of Van Gogh’s world.
Vincent Van Gogh in Auvers-sur-Oise
Vincent Van Gogh was a Dutch painter whose posthumous fame would eventually redefine modern art. He sold only one painting during his life, yet his swirling skies, expressive brushwork, and vibrant colours forever changed how we see the world. His work wasn’t just visual but emotional, psychological, and raw.
In May 1890, following a turbulent stay at a psychiatric hospital in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence and his infamous breakdown in Arles, Van Gogh moved to Auvers-sur-Oise. He came in search of recovery under Dr. Paul Gachet, a physician known for treating artists and an amateur painter. For a short time, the village seemed to offer him peace.
In just 70 days, Van Gogh created more than 70 works, an astonishing creative outpouring. He painted wheat fields under thunderous skies, shadowy churches, winding village streets, and portraits filled with sensitivity and soul. Yet despite this feverish productivity, the sadness that haunted him never fully lifted. It was here, in these fields and streets, that Van Gogh suffered the wound that would end his life. This walking tour will guide you through those final 70 days, exploring the landscapes, buildings, and faces that inspired his last, most poignant masterpieces.
Other Artists in Auvers-sur-Oise
Auvers-sur-Oise wasn’t just a haven for Van Gogh; it had long been a beloved retreat for 19th-century artists drawn to its soft light and rural charm, just a short distance from Paris. Painters such as Charles-François Daubigny, Camille Pissarro, Paul Cézanne, and Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot all found inspiration in this picturesque landscape, laying the groundwork for the artistic energy Van Gogh would later inherit.
Arriving at Auvers-sur-Oise Train Station
Your journey truly begins the moment you step off the train. It’s best to arrive early, around 9:00 AM is ideal. While the village remains relatively quiet, its connection to Van Gogh does attract tour groups, particularly during the warmer months. But if you come on your own, you’ll be free to explore at your own pace, detour whenever something catches your eye, and immerse yourself in the details that speak most to you. That flexibility is part of the magic.
Even before you reach the heart of town, you’ll feel the pulse of creativity. As you pass through the Auvers-sur-Oise train station tunnel, you’ll find it’s far more than just a functional underpass; it’s a vibrant mural that feels like walking into a Van Gogh painting. This modest concrete tunnel links the platforms and has been transformed into a vivid tribute to his legacy. Its once-blank walls are now covered in colourful, expressive murals: swirling skies, golden wheat fields, bold self-portraits, and those unmistakable sunflowers. The art spills across every surface, wrapping you in an immersive, joyful celebration of Van Gogh’s vision. It may not be a gallery, but it’s even more powerful, a public space elevated through creativity. Whether you’re arriving or departing, the tunnel acts as a fitting emotional gateway into Van Gogh’s world.
La Pâtisserie des Gourmands
A minute from the station, you’ll come across a local gem, La Pâtisserie des Gourmands. While Paris may get all the pastry praise, I’ve found that the best sweets are often hiding in little boulangeries like this, tucked away in quiet towns. One bite of their giant macaron filled with fresh cream and raspberries had me planning my return visit before I finished the first. And yes, I did go back for a second one on my way home.
Pick up a few treats and something to drink, then head uphill toward the Our Lady of the Assumption Church, the iconic building immortalized in The Church at Auvers. The grassy area out front makes the perfect picnic spot to enjoy your pastries in true Van Gogh fashion, surrounded by light, art, and quiet beauty.
Passage d’accès église-cimetière
Just a few steps up from La Pâtisserie des Gourmands, tucked between sun-washed stone walls and flowering gardens, you’ll find the Passage d’accès église-cimetière, a narrow, almost hidden lane connecting the Church of Our Lady of the Assumption to the village cemetery. It’s easy to miss, but this quiet path is one of the most picturesque and atmospheric corners of Auvers-sur-Oise. Charming cottages with timeworn shutters and pastel façades line the walkway, echoing the warm, timeless hues of the French countryside.
As the passage opens toward Rue Daubigny, your eye is drawn to a thatched-roof cottage, humble, sloped, and textured with age. It looks like it stepped out of one of Van Gogh’s canvases, and it nearly did. This view is reminiscent of his painting Houses at Auvers (1890), in which traditional thatched homes nestle into the landscape like they’ve always belonged there. The brushwork in that piece is dense and rhythmic, giving the buildings a sense of life, of breath. They aren’t just structures; they’re companions in the countryside.
Houses at Auvers
Van Gogh painted several thatched cottages during his time in Auvers, drawn to their irregular charm and earthy warmth. Unlike the rigid lines of city buildings, these homes seemed to grow from the land, worn by wind and time, shaped by hand and weather. To Van Gogh, they represented continuity, tradition, and the beauty of the ordinary. They were human without needing to show a face.
This moment, where the path unfolds into a view of that cottage, feels like a quiet threshold. From here, you’re just steps away from the church Van Gogh would immortalize, but you’re still in the embrace of the village’s quieter corners. Pause here, where the past lingers not in stone monuments, but in sloping roofs and thick plaster walls. It’s a place of stillness, of simple beauty, the kind Van Gogh never overlooked.
White House at Night
As you emerge from the Passage d’accès église-cimetière, you’ll find yourself on Rue Daubigny, a street lined with houses that seem plucked straight from a Van Gogh painting. And in a way, they are. This road is believed to be the setting for White House at Night, one of Van Gogh’s final works, painted in June 1890. The painting captures a quiet domestic scene at twilight. A stately white house glows softly against a darkening blue sky, its single-lit window glowing gold, like a beacon of life within the hush. Above, a bright star, likely Venus, which would have been visible in the western sky that June, shines like a blessing or a question mark. The composition feels both intimate and vast, earthly and celestial.
In a letter to Theo and Jo, dated around June 17, 1890, Van Gogh described this work with restrained pride: “I have a study of a white house in greenery with a star in the night sky and an orange-lit window, black foliage, and a dark pink note.”
Walking along Rue Daubigny today, you’ll pass houses with those same quiet façades, slate roofs, pale walls, and shutters thrown open to the light. Some look remarkably like the one in the painting, even those that don’t seem to carry its spirit. They reflect the traditional architecture of Auvers-sur-Oise, unpretentious yet deeply evocative, built in harmony with the land and sky.
This brief stretch of road offers a quiet pause between the passage’s cloistered charm and the church’s dramatic silhouette ahead. Here, you can linger in a moment Van Gogh once paused to paint, a vision of village life turned poetic, lit from within by something warm and eternal.
The Church at Auvers
Van Gogh’s The Church at Auvers is one of his most emotionally potent and visually distinctive architectural paintings, completed in June 1890 during his final weeks in the village. The subject is the Église Notre-Dame-de-l’Assomption, a 12th-century Romanesque-Gothic church that still stands on a gentle rise overlooking the town. Yet in Van Gogh’s hands, this otherwise modest church becomes something far more expressive, an apparition of form, mood, and movement.
Rather than render it with careful symmetry, Van Gogh bent its lines, tilted its angles, and flooded it with surreal, cobalt blues. The church seems to sway slightly beneath a vibrant sky, caught between physical presence and spiritual tension. A pair of diverging paths fork in the foreground. Will you walk past the church or toward it? The surrounding grass glows with sharp greens and yellows, pulling the scene away from religious stillness and toward something more emotionally charged.
In a letter to his sister Wilhelmina, dated June 5, 1890, Van Gogh described the piece: “With that, I have a larger painting of the village church, an effect in which the building appears purplish against a sky of a deep and simple blue of pure cobalt…”
Unlike traditional portrayals of sacred spaces, this church feels slightly unwelcoming, even otherworldly. Many interpret it as a reflection of Van Gogh’s complex feelings toward religion: distant from institutions, yet spiritually yearning. It’s less a place of worship and more a portrait of inner conflict, solitude, memory, and longing.
A View Worth Pausing For
I lingered here for quite some time, breakfast in hand, simply taking it all in. From this quiet corner of Auvers, the village unfolds like a living landscape painting, rooftops climb the hillsides, church spires rise gently through the trees, and soft morning light glides across the terracotta tiles and winding lanes. It’s not a dramatic view, but it’s deeply stirring. A gentle stillness, a kind of hushed beauty, invites you to stop, breathe, and reflect. In this moment, you can see what Van Gogh saw, not just with your eyes but with your heart.
Tourist Office of Auvers-sur-Oise
From the church, make your way back along Rue Daubigny until you spot a narrow path tucked behind a low stone wall; this leads to the Auvers-sur-Oise Tourist Office, nestled down a shortcut to the lower part of town. It’s worth a quick stop. Inside, you can pick up a free walking map that marks all the locations where Van Gogh’s works are commemorated with plaques. There’s also a free washroom on site, which I always take advantage of before continuing my route!
Mairie d’Auvers-sur-Oise
Heading west along Rue du Général de Gaulle, you’ll pass the Mairie d’Auvers-sur-Oise, the town hall. This elegant stone building was painted by Van Gogh in 1890 and decorated with festive flags and banners to mark Bastille Day. He captured it from just outside the Auberge Ravoux, opposite the square where he lived. After finishing the piece, Vincent gifted it to the innkeeper, Arthur Gustave Ravoux, as a gesture of thanks.
We’ll be returning here for lunch later in the tour, but for now, continue along the road toward the Absinthe Museum.
Musée de Absinthe
Just up the hill, you’ll find one of Auvers-sur-Oise’s more unusual attractions, the Musée de l’Absinthe, a small museum dedicated to the infamous “green fairy.” Absinthe is a potent, emerald-coloured spirit made from botanicals like wormwood, anise, and fennel. Absinthe rose to popularoty in late 19th-century France, especially among artists, writers, and bohemians.
Known for its strength and supposed hallucinogenic properties, absinthe was both romanticized as a muse and feared as a poison. Tales of “absinthism,” a condition blamed for the madness and erratic behaviour, led to its ban in many countries. The museum houses an atmospheric collection of vintage spoons, delicate glasses, antique bottles, and evocative posters, all of which tell the story of how this once-mythic drink seduced and scandalized an entire era.
Van Gogh first discovered absinthe during his time in Paris. He was introduced by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, who frequented the smoky cabarets and cafés where it flowed freely. But Vincent quickly grew disillusioned with the city’s indulgences. In a letter to Theo, he wrote of fellow artist Monticelli:
“I increasingly doubt the veracity of the legend of Monticelli, who consumed enormous quantities of absinthe. Considering his work, it seems impossible that a man enervated by drink could have done this.”
Château d’Auvers
From the museum, continue uphill along Rue Léry to reach the grand Château d’Auvers. Perched above the rooftops of the village, this 17th-century estate was originally built in 1635 for Zanobi Lioni, an Italian financier at the court of Marie de Médicis. With its symmetrical façade and terraced gardens, the château is a graceful example of an Italian Renaissance villa transplanted to the French countryside.
Today, the château houses immersive exhibitions of Impressionist art. But fair warning, the Van Gogh works displayed here are reproductions, not originals. The entry fee is also rather high, and while the displays are thoughtful, they don’t quite capture the intensity or intimacy of Van Gogh’s brushwork. For that reason, I suggest skipping the museum and heading straight for the gardens, which are open to the public and free to explore.
In these very gardens, you’ll find a view Van Gogh once painted, though not from the center stage. In his 1890 work Landscape at Twilight, the château appears quietly in the background, its pale form partially swallowed by trees and twilight shadows. The foreground is wild and thick with grass, animated with his signature brushwork as if nature is overtaking the formalities of grandeur.
This compositional choice is telling. For Van Gogh, the château wasn’t the main subject; the land was. The shifting colours of dusk, the sweep of the horizon, the untamed beauty between cultivated spaces. Standing in the gardens today, it’s easy to see the same balance: clipped hedges and floral symmetry giving way to wide, sweeping views of Auvers’ rolling hills, golden fields, and tiled rooftops.
With the breeze in your hair and the scent of roses in the air, it’s not hard to imagine Van Gogh standing here too, sketchbook in hand, choosing to frame the château not as a monument, but as a whisper in the distance, quietly observing the world around it.
Maison du Docteur Gachet
From the château, it’s about an 11-minute walk to the Maison du Docteur Gachet. When Van Gogh arrived in Auvers in May 1890, seeking refuge from the emotional turbulence that had overwhelmed him in the South of France, Dr. Paul Gachet quickly became more than just a physician. He became a confidant, a supporter, and a true admirer of Van Gogh’s genius. Their relationship was complex, part medical, part artistic partnership, and deeply personal.
This quiet walk toward the house, lined with gardens and low stone walls, is one Van Gogh likely made dozens of times. I found it especially contemplative, wondering what might have been going through his mind in those final weeks as hope flickered and his mental state continued to decline.
Garden
The Maison du Docteur Gachet, now a museum, is tucked behind a tall stone wall on a peaceful, tree-shaded lane. Stepping inside, you’re greeted by an enchanting, ivy-draped home built into a rocky slope. Dr. Gachet, both physician and art enthusiast, cultivated these gardens with a wild elegance, planting vibrant beds of herbs, wildflowers, and climbing roses, a space where painters could find colour, calm, and inspiration.
Landscape with a Carriage and a Train
One of the most striking elements of the property is the panoramic view over the Oise Valley. From this elevated perch, the landscape rolls out in gentle waves, patchwork fields, winding lanes, and the shimmering line of the river stretching into the horizon. It’s timeless, almost cinematic, bathed in the same golden light that once captivated Van Gogh.
From this very spot, Van Gogh painted Landscape with a Carriage and a Train in 1890. The canvas captures the contrast between the stillness of the countryside and the hum of change, a steam train cutting through distant hills while a horse-drawn carriage follows a curving country path. It’s a moment suspended between movement and memory, tradition and modernity. Standing here today, it’s easy to imagine Van Gogh at his easel, brush poised, turning the living world before him into one of his charged, rhythmic compositions.
Stepping inside the grounds, you’re greeted by an enchanting, ivy-draped home built into a rocky slope. Dr. Gachet, both physician and art enthusiast, cultivated these gardens with a wild elegance, planting vibrant beds of herbs, wildflowers, and climbing roses, a space where painters could find colour, calm, and inspiration.
It’s this very kind of space that Van Gogh immortalized in his painting Garden in Auvers (Garten in Auvers), a lush, intimate scene thick with vibrant brushwork and saturated in green and blue. The composition hums with energy, almost overgrown with feeling. You can almost smell the garden soil and hear the rustle of plants in the wind. It’s not a manicured space; it’s a living one. The type of garden where emotion takes root and spills over the edges.
One of the most striking elements of the property is the panoramic view over the Oise Valley. From this elevated perch, the landscape rolls out in gentle waves, patchwork fields, winding lanes, and the shimmering line of the river stretching into the horizon. It’s timeless, almost cinematic, bathed in the same golden light that once captivated Van Gogh.
Blossoming Chestnut Branches
Another echo of Van Gogh’s time in Auvers blooms in his painting Blossoming Chestnut Branches, a radiant still life completed in the last weeks of his life. Thick green leaves and tender blossoms burst from the canvas with bold brushstrokes, full of light and movement. The piece reflects his enduring fascination with nature’s fragile beauty and power to soothe.
It’s easy to imagine him gathering the chestnut branches during a walk from Dr. Gachet’s garden or the wooded paths nearby. Even in his final days, Vincent was looking closely at the small things, the curve of a petal, the flicker of spring light, and turning them into something eternal.
Inside the Gachet’s Home
Inside, the house retains much of its original character. The rooms are dressed with period furnishings, including old pharmaceutical jars, pigment bottles, and Dr. Gachet’s manual printmaking press. It’s a small, intimate space that feels more like an artist’s retreat than a doctor’s home.
Upstairs, the second floor features a rotating exhibition of Dr. Gachet’s artwork. A passionate amateur artist, he created numerous engravings and paintings that reflect his friendships with the Impressionists and his own delicate, introspective style.
At one point, Dr. Gachet owned 20 paintings by Van Gogh, most of which were given as gifts by the artist during his stay. After Gachet’s death, the collection passed to his son, who, childless and deeply devoted to preserving the legacy of art, generously donated the works to the French state. Many of those pieces hang in the Musée d’Orsay, the Louvre, and other world-class galleries today. But standing here, in this humble, ivy-clad house, it’s easy to imagine them once hanging in these very rooms, works of raw emotion and staggering beauty, glowing in the morning light.
Portrait of Dr. Gachet
Van Gogh famously described Dr. Gachet in a letter as “sicker than I am,” a reflection of their shared struggles with emotional fragility. And yet, perhaps this very sense of vulnerability allowed them to form such a powerful bond. Van Gogh painted two portraits of the doctor, each filled with intense, swirling strokes and a quiet melancholy. In one letter to Theo, he wrote:
“Mr. Gachet is absolutely fanatical about this portrait and wants me to do one of him if I can, absolutely like that, which I also wish to do.”
The result is one of Van Gogh’s most iconic works, a portrait that radiates sadness, empathy, and human understanding. Dr. Gachet is shown slumped at a red table, his head resting heavily in one hand, eyes turned inward. The vivid blue tones of the background seem to hum with emotion. This isn’t just a doctor; it’s a portrait of a man who, like Van Gogh, carried quiet sorrow in his bones.
Gachet’s Family
Dr. Gachet’s daughter, Marguerite, also became part of Van Gogh’s final chapter. He painted her sitting at the piano in her family’s salon, head slightly turned away, completely absorbed in her music. The scene is one of softness and restraint, a calm oasis within a stormy life. The filtered sunlight, the gentle folds of her dress, and the stillness of her posture offer a quiet, almost dreamlike contrast to Van Gogh’s otherwise intense palette and pace.
Though there’s no evidence of a romantic relationship, Van Gogh seemed quietly drawn to Marguerite. He may have seen the peaceful domesticity he longed for but never found in her, a life of routine, beauty, and calm, free from the turbulence that had long defined his own.
Maison de Van Gogh
Now it’s time for the most poignant stop of the tour, the Maison de Van Gogh, or Auberge Ravoux, located back in the center of town. It was here, in Room No. 5, that Vincent spent the final weeks of his life. You can book a ticket to visit this tiny attic room, left exactly as it was after his death. The walls are bare, the space stark, but the emotional weight is immense. There’s no furniture, no belongings, just silence, and sunlight filtering through the window.
Once you’ve taken it in, consider booking a table downstairs in the inn’s restaurant, where Van Gogh once dined each evening. The rustic dining room has been restored to reflect its 19th-century appearance, offering a simple but powerful experience. To sit where he once sat, to eat in the very room where he ended his days, is to feel if only for a moment, the world as he saw it.
Visiting the Maison de Van Gogh
Visiting the Maison de Van Gogh isn’t like stepping into a traditional museum; it’s more like entering a quiet moment frozen in time. This place holds something far deeper for art lovers and pilgrims of Van Gogh’s legacy: it was the artist’s final refuge. A narrow staircase leads you to Room No. 5, the attic space Van Gogh rented for just a few francs a night. The light is low, and the wooden floorboards creak softly, whispering with memory.
Nothing is inside the room except a solitary chair in the center, like a silent gravestone. Its emptiness speaks louder than any exhibit ever could. This was where Van Gogh returned each night after painting the wheat fields and crooked streets of Auvers.
When he arrived in May 1890, he settled into this modest room at the Auberge Ravoux. In a letter to Theo and Jo around May 21, he shared his new surroundings with a painter’s excitement:
“Now I have a study of old thatched roofs with a field of peas in flower and some wheat in the foreground…”
The Final Days
This is the place where Van Gogh returned, gravely wounded, on the evening of July 27, 1890, after shooting himself in a wheat field just outside the village. Somehow, he managed to walk back through the fading light, up the stairs to his room, and collapse in silence.
Word quickly reached Theo, who rushed from Paris to Auvers-sur-Oise as soon as he heard. He arrived just in time to be by Vincent’s side, holding vigil through his final, agonizing hours. The two brothers, whose bond had endured years of hardship and distance, shared one last moment in that small, dimly lit space. Ever aware of beauty even in pain, Vincent is said to have spoken calmly. His last words may have been:
“La tristesse durera toujours” , “The sadness will last forever.”
Two days later, on July 29, 1890, he died with Theo at his side. The quiet village of Auvers cradled the final chapter of one of history’s most brilliant, tormented artists.
The Funeral
After his death, Van Gogh’s body was laid out in the inn’s ground-floor dining room, the same place where he had eaten simple meals just days earlier. At the time, suicide was considered a mortal sin by the Catholic Church, and those who died by their own hand were often denied burial in consecrated ground. Although Van Gogh had once been deeply religious, he had long distanced himself from organized faith, and a church funeral was not permitted.
Instead, the modest inn became the setting for a deeply personal farewell. Though many myths paint his funeral as a lonely event, in truth it was attended by fellow artists and friends who gathered around his coffin, surrounded by his paintings, propped like mourners themselves. Yellow flowers, sunflowers, marigolds, and dahlias were arranged lovingly, a vivid echo of the palette Vincent cherished most.
The Auberge Ravoux
In Van Gogh’s day, meals at the Auberge Ravoux were simple, seasonal, and rustic. Food was included in the cost of his room, and he likely dined on classic country fare: crusty bread with local cheese, stews made with garden vegetables, roast duck or chicken when available, a glass of red wine, and absinthe lurking quietly at the edge of the table. Meals were shared communally, in a dimly lit room where Van Gogh often sat sketching on scraps of paper, his mind still at work.
He always sat at the same table near the back of the dining room. And if you’re lucky, like I was, you can ask to sit there too, feeling for a moment as if you’re dining with him in spirit.
Today, the Auberge Ravoux has been lovingly restored. Dining here is like stepping back into the late 1800s. The interior remains remarkably faithful to the period: exposed wooden beams, lace-trimmed curtains, mismatched chairs, and white-clothed tables. The menu pays homage to 19th-century French cuisine, offering dishes Van Gogh might have known, duck confit, terrines, poached eggs in red wine, and rich, buttery desserts.
But the experience isn’t just about food; it’s about presence. Knowing you’re seated where Van Gogh once ate, within walls that absorbed the final echoes of his life, adds a quiet reverence to every bite. It’s not just a restaurant; it’s a living memory, a space where art, history, and humanity gently gather around the table.
Village Street and Steps in Auvers with Two Figures
After lunch, it’s time to walk off some of that delicious French fare with a slow stroll along Rue de la Sansonne. At the end of the street, you’ll come across a stone staircase that leads to the upper road, a view Van Gogh captured in one of his more contemplative works.
The painting depicts a narrow, sloping street, flanked by stone houses and cottages, their tiled roofs leaning gently into the hillside. A staircase winds upward between them, and two small figures, likely villagers, walk along the path. At first glance, it may seem unremarkable. But look again, and you’ll feel the emotional pulse in the composition: the twisting road, the hurried brushwork, the sense of quiet connection. It’s as if Van Gogh were painting what he saw and what he longed for, movement, companionship, and the hush of rural life. Perhaps a kind of intimacy he rarely found in his own.
The palette is pure Van Gogh: vivid blues, dusty greens, soft yellows, and terracotta reds that vibrate with life. The buildings, while simple, have a storybook charm, and the figures, though small, anchor the entire scene. They aren’t portraits. Their presence hints of humanity rooted in the village’s rhythm.
What makes this painting especially remarkable is that you can still stand in the exact spot where Van Gogh lived more than a century ago. Rue de la Sansonne and its steps remain remarkably unchanged. Though slightly modernized, the houses retain their original silhouettes and sloping roofs. Standing at the base of the steps, you can see the same view he did, trace the same climb, and feel the same slope beneath your feet. It’s one of the few places where a painting perfectly overlaps reality, where you can physically step into Van Gogh’s frame and walk through a world he turned into art.
Vineyards at Auvers
As you continue along the back roads and farmland surrounding Auvers, you’ll see the echoes of another of Van Gogh’s final works: Vineyards at Auvers. The painting brims with energy; furrowed rows of grapevines twist under a pale sky, alive with green and ochre. It captures the countryside’s working rhythm and agriculture’s grounded beauty.
Vincent had long admired farmers, often calling them “figures in harmony with the earth.” This painting is not romanticized; it’s full of sweat, soil, sun, and survival. Walking these vineyard lanes today, you feel that same vitality underfoot. It’s not the kind of subject museums tend to glorify, but for Van Gogh, it was everything.
Racines de Van Gogh
Climb the steps and continue onto Rue Daubigny, named after the artist whose nearby studio also left its mark on Auvers. But before you go further, look down. Across the road, a line of gnarled tree roots clings to a small embankment, an otherwise ordinary sight, unless you know its history.
This is where Van Gogh painted Racines (Tree Roots), one of his most abstract and enigmatic works. Believed to be his final painting, it was completed just days before his death in July 1890. For more than a century, the location remained a mystery. But during the 2020 lockdown, Van Gogh researcher Wouter van der Veen noticed an old postcard with a photograph of a sloped, root-covered bank that perfectly matched the painting. The site, just steps from the Auberge Ravoux, was confirmed by the Van Gogh Museum soon after.
The painting is a tangled mass of exposed roots, jagged soil, and vivid, swirling strokes of deep blue, green, and ochre. There’s no sky, no horizon, no clear structure, just nature’s chaos. It’s raw and unresolved as if Van Gogh were grappling with the earth, channelling something primal and unspoken. It doesn’t feel like a farewell; it feels like an eruption of energy, an artist still reaching, questioning, even at the end.
Today, standing at this spot is a profound and quietly powerful experience. The roots are still there, clinging to the same sun-dappled hillside, partially veiled in ivy and moss. A discreet plaque now marks the site, but it remains remarkably humble, tucked between houses and hedgerows. To see them in person is to stand in the very place where Van Gogh made his final artistic statement, an unfinished farewell, carved not in words, but in roots, soil, and paint. There’s a stillness here, a reverence, and a startling intimacy with the man who once stood with a brush in hand, translating the tangle of earth into something achingly human.
House-Workshop of Daubigny
Continuing along Rue Daubigny, you’ll pass the Atelier-Daubigny, the actual home and studio of Charles-François Daubigny, a key figure in 19th-century landscape painting and one of the forerunners of Impressionism. Born in 1817, Daubigny was part of the Barbizon School and became known for his naturalistic depictions of rivers, fields, and skies. He was among the first artists to paint en plein air, often from a studio boat he called Le Botin. His fluid brushwork and love for atmospheric light paved the way for artists like Monet, Pissarro, and ultimately, Van Gogh.
Though Daubigny died in 1878, well before Van Gogh arrived in Auvers-sur-Oise, Vincent deeply admired him. He considered Daubigny, a spiritual predecessor who had captured the same quiet rural moods Van Gogh sought to express. He even painted several tributes to Daubigny, including Daubigny’s Garden, which he described as one of his most deliberate and composed works.
In a letter to Theo, he wrote: “Perhaps you’ll look at this sketch of Daubigny’s garden; it’s one of the canvases I’ve planned with the greatest care.”
The painting hums with life, its garden rendered in rich, energetic brushstrokes and luminous colour. It feels more like a memory than a landscape.
Museum Visit
Visiting the Atelier-Daubigny today is like stepping into a preserved pocket of time. Designed by Daubigny himself in the 1860s, the home still holds much of its original charm. The walls are covered with hand-painted murals, created not only by Daubigny but also by his son and close artist friends, including Corot. The studio is modest yet rich with atmosphere; the scent of aged wood and pigment still lingers, and light spills in through old glass panes just as it would have over a century ago.
The experience of visiting Daubigny’s home offers more than insight into one artist’s life. It’s a vision of what Van Gogh’s life could have been. Here was a man who lived surrounded by family, stability, and a creative community, whose art brought him comfort and whose legacy was recognized in his lifetime. For Van Gogh, who sold almost nothing, lived in modest rented rooms, and was often isolated, Daubigny’s home represents a tender what if, a glimpse into a life that might have been, had success and peace come just a little sooner.
And for Van Gogh admirers, the most stirring part of the visit may be the garden. Natural, slightly overgrown, and lovingly tended, it has retained the quiet beauty Daubigny cherished. It’s easy to picture Van Gogh walking by, pausing to admire it, feeling a kinship with the man who painted the same trees, skies, and light decades before Van Gogh picked up his brush in Auvers.
The Path to the Wheat Field
Head north from the Atelier-Daubigny, and you’ll soon come across a narrow lane called Sente du Montier. Follow this quiet, tucked-away path as it winds into the hillside. It gradually becomes a dirt trail, leading you deeper into the countryside and directly toward the landscape that inspired Wheatfield with Crows.
The field is still wide, open, and untouched, stretching beneath the same vast sky Van Gogh once painted. In summer, the wheat glows golden, swaying in the breeze like a living echo of his brushstrokes. Even if you visit in another season, the land holds its shape. The gentle curve of the trail, the open expanse, and the hush of the horizon remain unchanged. There’s a timelessness here, a feeling that nothing has changed, yet everything has. It’s easy to see why Van Gogh returned to this exact spot again and again, capturing its quiet intensity in paint and, ultimately, letting it cradle his final steps.
Wheatfield with Crows
Wheatfield with Crows is one of Van Gogh’s most emotionally charged and enduring works, often believed to be his final painting. The canvas is filled with stormy energy: an open field of golden wheat set against a churning, dark blue sky. A dirt path splits the landscape, forked and directionless. Crows lift from the field in scattered flurries, like black brushstrokes tearing across the clouds.
There is no clear vanishing point, no escape, only wind, sky, and solitude. The painting is beautiful and unsettling, a vivid mirror of Van Gogh’s emotional state in his final days. In a letter to Theo and Jo dated around July 10, 1890, he wrote:
“I have painted three more large canvases. They are vast stretches of corn under troubled skies, and I did not have to go out of my way very much in order to try to express sadness and extreme loneliness.”
Standing in this field today, just beyond the edge of Auvers-sur-Oise, is deeply moving. The wheat still ripples, the sky stretches infinitely above, and the dirt path still carves its familiar arc through the land. There are no fences, no crowds, just the quiet of the countryside, waiting. To visit this field is to cross the boundary between canvas and the world. You don’t just see the painting; you feel it. It’s one of the rare places on Earth where you can truly step inside a Van Gogh.
Landscape at Auvers in the Rain
Before you leave the fields, it’s worth pausing to remember one more painting, Landscape at Auvers in the Rain. Created just days before his death, the canvas shows the same golden countryside, but blurred through sheets of rain. Van Gogh used diagonal strokes and dark blue and silver streaks to capture the rhythm of falling water. The sky looms heavy, and the fields ripple beneath it, alive and turbulent.
This painting was inspired by the Japanese prints Van Gogh admired, especially those of Hiroshige, where rain becomes both subject and symbol. Here, it feels like a curtain between the viewer and the world, a veil of emotion, a storm not just in the sky, but within. It is one of the most atmospheric works of his final weeks, soaked in melancholy and motion.
Van Gogh’s Death
Walk through these fields, and you’re not just retracing brushstrokes but stepping into the last landscape Van Gogh ever knew. This is where, on July 27, 1890, he is believed to have walked with a pistol and shot himself in the chest. The trail winds between golden rows, the breeze rustles softly, and the sky presses down in silence.
There is no monument, no plaque, only the land, as in 1890. The hush of the countryside feels reverent, almost sacred. The view stretches endlessly, just as it did when Van Gogh stood here, seeking meaning through every brushstroke. Being in this field is more than a moment of reflection; it is a meeting point between life and death, art and emotion, where the quiet speaks louder than words.
An Alternate Theory
For over a century, Van Gogh’s suicide was accepted without question. But in recent years, an alternate theory has emerged, one that suggests Van Gogh may not have shot himself at all. In 2011, biographers Steven Naifeh and Gregory White Smith proposed that Van Gogh was accidentally shot by two local teenage boys playing with a faulty pistol. According to this version, Van Gogh may have protected them, choosing not to reveal the truth, perhaps out of compassion or sheer exhaustion.
There is no conclusive evidence, and Van Gogh’s reported last words, “Do not accuse anyone. It is I who wanted to kill myself”, still support the traditional account. But the theory adds a layer of ambiguity, another question in a life so often misunderstood. Whether by his own hand or by a tragic accident, what remains certain is that these fields were his final canvas, one last place where light, sorrow, and art converged.
Tomb of Vincent van Gogh
As you leave the fields behind and follow the quiet path toward the cemetery at the edge of Auvers, it’s impossible not to carry the weight of everything Vincent endured. The open landscape narrows into stone walls and ivy-covered gates, and soon, you arrive at a small, humble resting place where Vincent lies buried.
After Van Gogh’s death in 1890 and Theo’s just six months later, the brothers were buried in different countries, Vincent in Auvers-sur-Oise and Theo in the Netherlands. But it was Jo van Gogh-Bonger, Theo’s devoted wife, recognized the depth of their bond and became the force behind their reunion in death. In 1914, she arranged for Theo’s remains to be exhumed and reburied beside Vincent in the fields they both cherished.
Jo didn’t stop there. She ensured their graves wouldn’t just sit side by side, but appear visibly, symbolically entwined. At her request, ivy from Dr. Gachet’s garden, a place of solace in Vincent’s final days, was transplanted to the cemetery. Carefully planted across the twin graves, the ivy soon crept and spread, forming a soft, green shroud. Today, that same ivy still binds their headstones together, a living emblem of love, loyalty, and the unbreakable connection between the two brothers.
Johanna van Gogh-Bonger
Johanna van Gogh-Bonger was not merely the guardian of Van Gogh’s legacy; she was its creator, protector, and relentless advocate in a world that rarely listened to women. When Vincent and Theo died within months of each other, Jo was just 28 years old, a new mother with no formal training in art. But she had something far more powerful: unwavering conviction. While the world had turned away from Van Gogh in life, Jo saw the brilliance in his canvases and the aching beauty in his letters.
She stepped into a world dominated by male critics and collectors who rarely took her seriously. Still, she pushed forward, organizing exhibitions, lending out paintings, translating Vincent’s letters, and building his legacy piece by piece. She worked while raising a child alone, without institutions backing her, without access to the cultural circles that so often shut women out.
Jo didn’t just preserve Van Gogh’s work; she shaped how the world understands it today. She turned an overlooked, misunderstood painter into a cornerstone of modern art through passion and perseverance. Her story is more than historical; it’s a feminist triumph and a reminder that the most powerful voices in art history are sometimes the ones it tried hardest to silence.
La Caverne aux Livres
On your way back to the station, stop at one of Auvers-sur-Oise’s most delightful surprises, La Caverne aux Livres, a secondhand bookstore tucked inside an old train car parked alongside the tracks. Inside, the shelves are stacked to the ceiling with vintage novels, yellowing magazines, rare art books, and children’s treasures, all jumbled together in the coziest literary chaos.
Though there’s no direct connection to Van Gogh, the symbolism is rich. This old rail line once carried him into the village, into his final chapter. And here, nestled beside those same tracks, is a space filled with stories waiting to be discovered. It feels like a tribute, quiet and personal, to lives lived in creativity and passion.
I sat there for what felt like hours, poring through the hundreds, if not thousands, of old tomes. I found a stack of art history books to take home, their spines faded and pages soft with age. They now sit on my shelf, a tangible memory of that quiet afternoon spent wandering through words in the village Van Gogh called home.
View of Auvers with Church
As you make your way back to the Auvers-sur-Oise train station, pause before stepping onto the platform. Just outside the station, if you look back toward the village, you’ll see a view that might feel startlingly familiar; it’s the same one Van Gogh captured in his painting View of Auvers with Church, created in the final weeks of his life.
In this canvas, Van Gogh distills the village into a sweeping, rhythmic panorama: the church rising gently above the rooftops, the sloping terrain leading the eye across orchards and houses, and the sky billowing with motion and mood. It’s a quieter composition than some of his stormier works, but it carries an emotional clarity that feels like a deep breath.
This view feels different after walking the paths he walked and seeing the fields, houses, people, and places that shaped his last days. You’ve been inside the story. And now, as you stand where Van Gogh once stood, gazing back at the village he painted, loved, and left, you see what he saw: a place suspended between simplicity and sorrow, beauty and farewell.
It’s not just a landscape. It’s the closing frame of a journey that’s been emotional, creative, and deeply human.
Reflecting on Van Gogh and Auvers
As the sun begins to dip behind the hills and the light turns to that unmistakable Van Gogh gold, you’ll find yourself walking back through Auvers with paint in your mind and earth on your shoes. The church bells may chime faintly in the distance, and the breeze may still rustle through the wheat, but something within you has shifted.
You’ve wandered the same crooked lanes, paused beneath the same skies, and stood where brush once met canvas for the last time. This isn’t just a walk through a village; it’s a conversation between you and Vincent across centuries. Not in words, but in colour, in silence, in the rhythm of your footsteps.
As you board the train home, you may carry no souvenirs in your hands, but your heart will be full. Full of beauty, sorrow, and the quiet knowledge that, for a little while, you didn’t just walk in Van Gogh’s footsteps; you walked within his world.
If you enjoyed this walking tour, be sure to explore our other self-guided journeys following in the footsteps of Van Gogh.
Happy Travels Adventurers
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