Late evening sun curving down the horizon and drawing long shadows in a ruddy glow, of tree and leaf in it's path as it travels from the sun to earth through dark empty space in six seconds and then comes to rest briefly on Vincent's sunflowers that form my shrine atop this desk. The yellows seem to glow deeper and the greens a little greener. How has a man captured sunflowers on canvans that shimmer thus and which put me in a state of prayerful awe?

They say he went mad. People go 'mad' for various reasons, the most common being to laugh at the absurdity of this life:the fool and the other to weep over the dept of it:the genius.

Vincent was both and then some. I think his body must have been unable to contain the beauty it held and the beauty it absorbed.Thus he had to give it away, by chopping his ear off for a whore and by leaving the rest of us, mere asthetic whores, his blazing canvases. Thank god for such small joys.