Chapter 85: (2) - The Mysterious Art Museum
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Chapter 85 (2) - The Mysterious Art Museum
Those scary sisters.
Please leave me alone.
You're 130 years older than me.
And I don't want to do anything in such a germ-infested place.
And what?
Do you have scales on your back? And what's with the webbed feet on your feet?
Do I not even look human to you, despite being unfamiliar with Asians?
I kept my mouth shut and just went ahead, filling my bucket with water at the water jar. The water didnt look clean enough to be drinking water, but I felt nauseous watching a prostitute next to me drink from a cup and wink at me. Drinking such water, no wonder they get sick.
Arriving next to Henri, I set down the bucket, sweating coldly. Henri, who was mixing paints on his palette, looked at me and asked.
"Do you feel sick? You're sweating a lot."
".............."
Listen, I am a modern person.
Its natural to be scared since I came to a brothel in this era.
Henri, not expecting an answer, started to whistle and began painting. His brushwork, drawing without even sketching. To my eyes, trained in art, it looked impressive.
'That's because the most remarkable thing about this person is his rough and bold yet accurate brush touch.'
I can't believe I'm seeing this in person.
I don't like the environment, but it's truly an honor.
Still, being a painter myself, seeing a master at work calms my frozen heart a bit. The vivid colors of the paints leave a picture like a lie as the brush passes by.
But Henri's paintings, even though they depict people, give off a feeling of abstract art. Prostitutes half-lying down with their shoulders fully exposed in their slipped-down clothes. Had I not known who they were, I would have thought it a beautiful scene just as it was.
Transferring that landscape as it is would make a very beautiful painting, but the people in Henri's painting look ugly, dark, and miserable.
"See, it's easy? There's nothing simpler than completing a painting with superficial meaning. This is precisely the most plausible lie. I just don't want to live as a street liar."
".............."
Rather than the paintings others want, I paint as I see.
Its the ideal of a painter. But reality is the problem.
"But Henri. If you stick to your style, people won't buy your paintings."
Henri burst into laughter, picking up his brush.
"Fortunately! Our house is doing well. I can live independently, economically. Well, maybe not. I'm living off my father's money, so I can't say I'm independent. Anyway! I dont need to sell paintings, so I dont have to consider other people's tastes! How about that, isn't it enviable? Haha!"
Yeah, that's great. It's hard for someone like me to live like you. That makes it even more enviable, damn it.
Even when watching the Avengers, I envied Iron Man the most, a genius scientist born into a wealthy family, more than the other heroes with superpowers. Frankly, even if born a genius, without the money to buy the materials for Iron Man, you can't be part of it.
Ha, having a lot of money is the most enviable thing in the world.
Henri puts down the canvas and picks up the painting he was originally working on, quietly observing the prostitutes' resting area.
"Ugliness always has its fascinating aspects, wherever and whenever. It's very delightful when one discovers it where no one else has noticed."
Henri, having cleaned his brushes in the water jug, dips them in fresh paint and says,
"Here, there's a mix of diversity and contradiction, instinct and restraint, human limits and the ambition of a genius, good and evil, ostentation and self-reflection, intellectual culture and naivety, youth and old age, happiness and depression. This is the reality I've intensely explored and want to express convincingly and vividly."
I put aside my frivolous thoughts and focused on Henri's words.
As he started painting again, the playfulness in his eyes disappeared, replaced by seriousness.
"In places and situations that other painters reject and find shameful, I found my essence. In places and situations deemed unworthy of painting by others, I discovered myself."
His brush dances vigorously across the canvas.
"Nobody in the world has the right to exclude others. I paint everything that is marginalized, just like repeatedly painting my own portrait."
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Chapter 85 (2) - The Mysterious Art Museum
Those scary sisters.
Please leave me alone.
You're 130 years older than me.
And I don't want to do anything in such a germ-infested place.
And what?
Do you have scales on your back? And what's with the webbed feet on your feet?
Do I not even look human to you, despite being unfamiliar with Asians?
I kept my mouth shut and just went ahead, filling my bucket with water at the water jar. The water didnt look clean enough to be drinking water, but I felt nauseous watching a prostitute next to me drink from a cup and wink at me. Drinking such water, no wonder they get sick.
Arriving next to Henri, I set down the bucket, sweating coldly. Henri, who was mixing paints on his palette, looked at me and asked.
"Do you feel sick? You're sweating a lot."
".............."
Listen, I am a modern person.
Its natural to be scared since I came to a brothel in this era.
Henri, not expecting an answer, started to whistle and began painting. His brushwork, drawing without even sketching. To my eyes, trained in art, it looked impressive.
'That's because the most remarkable thing about this person is his rough and bold yet accurate brush touch.'
I can't believe I'm seeing this in person.
I don't like the environment, but it's truly an honor.
Still, being a painter myself, seeing a master at work calms my frozen heart a bit. The vivid colors of the paints leave a picture like a lie as the brush passes by.
But Henri's paintings, even though they depict people, give off a feeling of abstract art. Prostitutes half-lying down with their shoulders fully exposed in their slipped-down clothes. Had I not known who they were, I would have thought it a beautiful scene just as it was.
Transferring that landscape as it is would make a very beautiful painting, but the people in Henri's painting look ugly, dark, and miserable.
"See, it's easy? There's nothing simpler than completing a painting with superficial meaning. This is precisely the most plausible lie. I just don't want to live as a street liar."
".............."
Rather than the paintings others want, I paint as I see.
Its the ideal of a painter. But reality is the problem.
"But Henri. If you stick to your style, people won't buy your paintings."
Henri burst into laughter, picking up his brush.
"Fortunately! Our house is doing well. I can live independently, economically. Well, maybe not. I'm living off my father's money, so I can't say I'm independent. Anyway! I dont need to sell paintings, so I dont have to consider other people's tastes! How about that, isn't it enviable? Haha!"
Yeah, that's great. It's hard for someone like me to live like you. That makes it even more enviable, damn it.
Even when watching the Avengers, I envied Iron Man the most, a genius scientist born into a wealthy family, more than the other heroes with superpowers. Frankly, even if born a genius, without the money to buy the materials for Iron Man, you can't be part of it.
Ha, having a lot of money is the most enviable thing in the world.
Henri puts down the canvas and picks up the painting he was originally working on, quietly observing the prostitutes' resting area.
"Ugliness always has its fascinating aspects, wherever and whenever. It's very delightful when one discovers it where no one else has noticed."
Henri, having cleaned his brushes in the water jug, dips them in fresh paint and says,
"Here, there's a mix of diversity and contradiction, instinct and restraint, human limits and the ambition of a genius, good and evil, ostentation and self-reflection, intellectual culture and naivety, youth and old age, happiness and depression. This is the reality I've intensely explored and want to express convincingly and vividly."
I put aside my frivolous thoughts and focused on Henri's words.
As he started painting again, the playfulness in his eyes disappeared, replaced by seriousness.
"In places and situations that other painters reject and find shameful, I found my essence. In places and situations deemed unworthy of painting by others, I discovered myself."
His brush dances vigorously across the canvas.
"Nobody in the world has the right to exclude others. I paint everything that is marginalized, just like repeatedly painting my own portrait."
Read ahead by supporting me on Ko-fi
.nove(l)bi(n.)com
Chapter 85 2 - The Mysterious Art MuseumThose scary sisters.Please leave me alone.You're 130 years older than me.And I don't want to do anything in such a germ-infested place.And what?Do you have scales on your back? And what's with the webbed feet on your feet?Do I not even look human to you, despite being unfamiliar with Asians?I kept my mouth shut and just went ahead, filling my bucket with water at the water jar. The water didnt look clean enough to be drinking water, but I felt nauseous watching a prostitute next to me drink from a cup and wink at me. Drinking such water, no wonder they get sick.Arriving next to Henri, I set down the bucket, sweating coldly. Henri, who was mixing paints on his palette, looked at me and asked."Do you feel sick? You're sweating a lot."".............."Listen, I am a modern person.Its natural to be scared since I came to a brothel in this era.Henri, not expecting an answer, started to whistle and began painting. His brushwork, drawing without even sketching. To my eyes, trained in art, it looked impressive.'That's because the most remarkable thing about this person is his rough and bold yet accurate brush touch.'I can't believe I'm seeing this in person.I don't like the environment, but it's truly an honor.Still, being a painter myself, seeing a master at work calms my frozen heart a bit. The vivid colors of the paints leave a picture like a lie as the brush passes by.But Henri's paintings, even though they depict people, give off a feeling of abstract art. Prostitutes half-lying down with their shoulders fully exposed in their slipped-down clothes. Had I not known who they were, I would have thought it a beautiful scene just as it was.Transferring that landscape as it is would make a very beautiful painting, but the people in Henri's painting look ugly, dark, and miserable."See, it's easy? There's nothing simpler than completing a painting with superficial meaning. This is precisely the most plausible lie. I just don't want to live as a street liar."".............."Rather than the paintings others want, I paint as I see.Its the ideal of a painter. But reality is the problem."But Henri. If you stick to your style, people won't buy your paintings."Henri burst into laughter, picking up his brush."Fortunately! Our house is doing well. I can live independently, economically. Well, maybe not. I'm living off my father's money, so I can't say I'm independent. Anyway! I dont need to sell paintings, so I dont have to consider other people's tastes! How about that, isn't it enviable? Haha!"Yeah, that's great. It's hard for someone like me to live like you. That makes it even more enviable, damn it.Even when watching the Avengers, I envied Iron Man the most, a genius scientist born into a wealthy family, more than the other heroes with superpowers. Frankly, even if born a genius, without the money to buy the materials for Iron Man, you can't be part of it.Ha, having a lot of money is the most enviable thing in the world.Henri puts down the canvas and picks up the painting he was originally working on, quietly observing the prostitutes' resting area."Ugliness always has its fascinating aspects, wherever and whenever. It's very delightful when one discovers it where no one else has noticed."Henri, having cleaned his brushes in the water jug, dips them in fresh paint and says,"Here, there's a mix of diversity and contradiction, instinct and restraint, human limits and the ambition of a genius, good and evil, ostentation and self-reflection, intellectual culture and naivety, youth and old age, happiness and depression. This is the reality I've intensely explored and want to express convincingly and vividly."I put aside my frivolous thoughts and focused on Henri's words.As he started painting again, the playfulness in his eyes disappeared, replaced by seriousness."In places and situations that other painters reject and find shameful, I found my essence. In places and situations deemed unworthy of painting by others, I discovered myself."His brush dances vigorously across the canvas."Nobody in the world has the right to exclude others. I paint everything that is marginalized, just like repeatedly painting my own portrait."Read ahead by supporting me on Ko-fi.novelbin.com
