Books and Van Gogh

Books are art...Book of art... Book or art?

The other day I organized my bookshelf into 4 sections
1. Books I hope never to read (The Killer Angels...sorry history class)
2. Books I have read and love (Snow Falling on Cedars, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn...)
3. Books I want to read/finish reading ASAP (The Tao of Pooh...)
4. Books that have pretty bindings and made my shelf look colorful (Book of Zodiac...)

Then I tried to squeeze one more section for the 24 Vincent Van Gogh calendar prints that I have yet to frame and hang. Two years in a row I asked my sister for a Van Gogh Calendar for Christmas, and I'm proud of my collection. Someday I'll frame them all and hang them up. For now, I have "Olive Picking" tacked my closet door so I can admire it as I dress.

This past January, a Greek woman claimed to have found one of Van Gogh's sketchbooks. It was examined by foreign art experts for authenticity, and was declared indeed authentic. The incredible piece is worth an estimated four million euros, but the woman who found it isn't planning on selling. I don't blame her.

I wish my book shelf had an original Van Gogh sketchbook section. I'd trade Killer Angels for that any day. Until then I'll settle for my calendar prints.