IN THE SHADOW OF VAN GOGH

          Did I ever tell you I once stood next to Vincent van Gogh when I visited France? At least I think I did. Maybe not. Perhaps it was just his ghost. Nevertheless, I found the image so compelling I had to include it in my novel, "MARCEL'S GIFT.".
         
            While sightseeing in the sunny town of Arles in the south of France (where van Gogh painted and spent much of his miserable life) I came to a clearing between a stand of chestnut trees where an arthritic, old artist-- bent over his canvas and easel--painted the colorful, foral valley beyond.
        
          He wore a light blue shirt under a dark blue or black ( I couldn't tell which) moth ravaged jacket. His navy blue pants were paint spattered and he wore a tattered straw hat that had several broken straws poking through the edge of its rim leaving jagged shadow-lines on his face.
         
          When he saw me approaching, he smiled an almost toothless, yellowed, tobacco stained smile, but the vibrancy of his clear, grey-blue eyes diverted my attention from the one thing that betrayed his age--his weather beaten, leathery face. I imagined he must have been a seaman in his earlier years. Who knows?
        
         I held up my camera and with charade motions indicated I wanted to take a photo. He stood to pose next to his oil painting. To please him I snapped one picture. Then, I motioned with my hand for him to sit and continue his painting. I took more photos when he was fully absorbed in his work and checked the images in my digital camera.
       
        I could have sworn I was looking at the artist, Vincent van Gogh. However, three things were missing: van Gogh's red hair, his mutilated ear, and one of his unfinished masterpieces on the old artist's easel. 
 Au revoir, mon ami.