It’s a law of nature: every year brings a gust of theories about Vincent van Gogh. His life has been scrutinized for so long that we seem to have all the information, and nowhere near enough. Sturdy truths have been almost-replaced by almost-facts: he cut off his ear, unless he cut off only the lower half, unless Paul Gauguin did. He shot himself, unless he was shot. With these biographical blurs come uncertainties about the paintings—is “Wheatfield with Crows” really a kind of suicide note? Is it even sad? Scholars have shown that it wasn’t van Gogh’s last work, and it may not have been his second- or third-last, either. If we keep this up for a few more decades, we won’t know a single thing about him.