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- 03/16/2022
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
ARROW - 20. Chapter 20
After a late breakfast, we took a taxi to the home of Monsieur Andre Arnaud. The house was on the outskirts of Paris, and with the traffic, it took us an hour to get there. The cab driver made an error, and we had to double back. This was the first time I had ever taken a taxi where the driver was unsure of the directions. Colin said he probably has never driven outside of Paris.
We arrived at Monsieur Arnaud’s home close to noon. “Armand, it’s close to noon, and he’ll probably be having lunch." As we were admiring the house, a cab pulled up, and a gentleman got out of the cab. I recognized him as the Director of the Louvre museum who showed us the original Mona Lisa. Before I had the opportunity to address him, he spoke to me.
“Bonjour, Armand et Colin. C’est sympa de te revoir.” Before I spoke to the Director, I told Colin what he had said, ‘it was nice to see us.’
Our conversation continued in French, with me translating for Colin. I thought Colin needed to learn a little French, and then it dawned on me that he would need to know a little Spanish and Italian if we travel to Europe in the future.
While I chatted with the Director, we moved toward the front door of the Monsieur Arnaud’s home. The Director opened the door, walking in, he announced us, “Andre, nous sommes ici.”
A young man came to greet us. He spoke to the Director, “Bon apres-midi, messieurs, suis-moi s'il te plait..”
“Colin, we are to follow this young man.” Following, he led us to what I would call a sunroom. Sitting at a table was who I suspected, Andre Arnaud. The Director introduced Colin and me. We were invited to sit down at the table. The young man who showed us to this room entered with a cart.
“Gentlemen, my son has brought us a light lunch. Won’t you join us?” I should have realized a person who travels a lot would be fluent in English. I saw Colin relax a little, and the Director smiled, and I knew then he also could speak in English.
Over lunch, we discussed art. Colin sat there and listened. When a question was directed to him, he answered. Otherwise, he squeezed my hand on occasions. I think lunch was an excuse for Mr. Arnaud to find out more about me and my painting.
“I have a friend that said you painted a nude portrait that was sold for 300,000 dollars. When Jean told me about your detection of the fake Mona Lisa, I knew I had to meet you. The young man who told you about my private collection is a friend of my son’s. I’m glad that you are here.”
“We have spent most of our time visiting Paris’s museums. I have a large entourage of art students who seem to know where I can be found. I had mentioned to one of them that the paintings in the galleries are famous and very well known. I’d like to see some paintings that haven’t been available to the public. Yesterday he gave me your address and phone number. I would like to see your private gallery.”
“Bring your wine, and I’ll show you my collection.”
We followed outside from the room where we had lunch. Attached to the left side was what I thought to be a garage, and it wasn’t. It was a controlled temperature art gallery. He explained that the paintings are in the order he bought them, so they are not chronologically hung on the walls. As we walked along, I would explain to Colin about the artists that I knew. A few pieces were done by artists I didn’t know, and I asked Mr. Arnaud who they were.
“In my travels, I stop at various places that have local paintings being shown. If I saw one that I liked, I bought it. I have paintings from the east and other countries in the west, and this painting I bought from a street artist.”
“He used an odd mixture of colors.”
“He said it was a painting he made from his porch looking out at a field.”
“It looks like the style of Van Gogh.”
“I never thought that, but now that you mentioned it, it does resemble his style.”
We continued our walk, and then I saw one of GG’s paintings. “Who is this artist?”
“This painting was painted by a woman several years ago. I believe she is an American and most of her paintings are of this type.”
“Is that a bluebird?”
“Yes. That was her signature.”
Looking at Colin, he smiled. The last painting was one of mine. “What do you know about this artist?”
“Not very much. A friend of mine bought this painting for me from an art gallery in a small town. He was traveling with a friend visiting art galleries as they traveled.”
“What is your opinion of this artist?”
“I like the style, and it reminds me of the Masters. I don’t see many of these modern paintings following this style. Most today are of the style of Picasso or cubism, and I have seen several of the styles of Dali.”
“You don’t have any Dali’s in your collection?”
“No, at least not yet.”
Leaving the gallery, I thank Monsieur Arnaud for allowing us to see his gallery. The museum Director offered to share a ride back to Paris.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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