Van Gogh Reborn!

300

The Final Showdown (5)

Spring had arrived after a long winter.

Just like the sprouts that broke through the frozen ground, hope had blossomed in the Korean art scene.

The government had decided to stop supporting the Korean Art Association, after receiving requests from artists, students, parents, and various citizens.

The association had lost its function, as its members had dwindled and its funding had been cut off. The roles that the association had played until then were to be distributed among different organizations.

The Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism had temporarily taken over the external affairs, such as the operation of the Korean Pavilion at the Venice Biennale.

The Ministry of Culture and Education had directly taken charge of the support for each competition.

There was a proposal to conduct the evaluation of domestic large-scale competitions, such as the National Exhibition, with 30% of the current artists recommended by the Korean Artists Association and 70% of the audience votes.

Bang Tae-ho had realized through this association incident that the artists had to develop their own marketability, rather than relying on subsidies.

He was glad to hear that those who wanted to do art and depended on subsidies or national projects had realized what true freedom was.

There was also a suggestion to give the subsidies that had gone to the association directly to the artists.

But the artists had cited the Antermittant system in France and asked for the improvement of the current unemployment benefits system for artists, instead of subsidies.

The artists who had belonged to the king, the nobility, and the church in the past had taken a step away from the government and society.

-Choi Young-soo, the chairman of the Korean Art Association, was sentenced to eight years in prison in the first trial.

I heard about Choi Young-soo and his family while watching the news with my grandfather.

“Wasn’t it six years?”

The article had said that he was sentenced to six years in prison, but the term had increased.

“That’s right. It’s not easy to get a longer sentence than the prosecution.”

My grandfather seemed to not know what it was about.

-The judge sentenced Choi, who had been sentenced to six years in prison in the first trial, saying that he had embezzled the national subsidies for personal purposes and increased his personal assets for the past 20 years, and caused irreparable damage to the art world and the artists, and that his crimes of embezzlement, breach of trust, special threats, etc. were not good.

My grandfather nodded slowly.

-Meanwhile, Choi Young-soo, the chairman of the association, announced that he would give up his appeal, and his sentence of eight years in prison and a fine of 11 billion won was confirmed.

“What does appeal mean?”

“It means asking for a retrial. He’s saying that the trial was wrong and he wants it to be done again.”

I was surprised that the man who had done such evil things for 20 years accepted the court’s verdict quietly.

“Do you think he has some other plan? It’s strange, isn’t it?”

“He must have thought that his sentence could increase in the retrial, since the public opinion was strong and the evidence was clear.”

My grandfather smiled bitterly.

“He won’t be able to do anything when he comes out again.”

Choi Young-soo was the same age as my grandfather, so he would be 75 years old after eight years.

Even if he came out earlier, he wouldn’t be able to do anything, since the association had lost its power.

-Choi Kyu-seo and Kim Soo-hyuk, the couple who had caused controversy by operating the Korean Pavilion unfairly, were sentenced to two years and one year in prison, respectively.

“Only?”

I couldn’t help but react to the trial result.

“There’s no probation.”

“What’s that?”

The modern judicial system is complicated.

“It means that they postpone the execution. For example, if you don’t commit another crime for four years, you don’t have to serve your sentence, but if you do, you go to jail. There’s none of that, and the sentence is carried out.”

“That’s too short.”

They had tormented hundreds, thousands of artists and monopolized the subsidies for them.

“They probably got that because it was their first offense. The court must have thought that they gave them a strong sentence by sending them without probation.”

I couldn’t understand.

“And when they serve their sentence and come out, what can they do? They followed their father and ran around recklessly, so they won’t be able to live on their own skills now.”

As my grandfather said, it would be the most cruel thing for Choi Kyu-seo.

He had to live on his own, since his father had lost his power.

And he had the stigma of being a criminal.

He wouldn’t be able to work anywhere with his art skills.

I hoped that he would feel at least a little bit of the feelings of those he had pushed away without any care, as he was frustrated by reality.

“By the way, I haven’t seen Marso lately. He used to come every day.”

He had visited my studio like he was going to work for a while, and enjoyed and that I had given him as a Christmas present last year.

At first, I thought he liked it, but after a fortnight, I wondered if he had something else on his mind.

He also showed some strange behaviors, such as taking pictures or measuring the length with a ruler, but now he had left as if nothing had happened.

“He must be staying in Venice.”

“Venice?”

“He said he was making something, but he didn’t tell me what.”

“He must be having a hard time with his work for the Biennale. I hope you cheer him up.”

“Yes.”

I answered, but he didn’t really need me to. He was the kind of person who could do everything on his own.

He had a strong pride, and my support might only stress him out.

All I had to do was enjoy the work that Henri had completed after his agony.

“Hoon-ah.”

It was Bang Tae-ho’s voice.

He had left in the morning, saying that he had to discuss the placement of the works for the exhibition, but he seemed to have returned already.

“I’m on the second floor.”

Bang Tae-ho, who came up the stairs, tilted his head as if he was embarrassed.

“Platini wants to change the location of your work. Uh…”

“149,597,870.696 km.”

Bang Tae-ho blinked his eyes and shook his head, then continued.

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“Anyway, he said he wanted to move it somewhere else.”

The decision of where and how to display the works was up to Bang Tae-ho and Michel.

As long as it wasn’t an absurd way, they didn’t need to ask for my permission, so I was puzzled. Grandfather asked for me instead.

“Is there a problem?”

“It’s a bit awkward. He said it was something that Hoon had to agree on.”

“Where is it?”

“He mentioned the entrance.”

I didn’t understand what he meant.

I looked at Grandfather, but he seemed clueless too.

“The entrance?”

“Your work. Uh…”

“149,597,870.696 km.”

“Oh, dear. I can’t remember it either. Let’s just call it Maple among ourselves.”

“Yes. He said he wanted to hang Maple on the ceiling near the entrance.”

“Then people might not see it.”

“They would see it when they leave, but it might be a bit off-putting to see it at the end.”

“Is there not enough space?”

“No, that’s not it. We planned to exhibit more than 20 pieces, so we made it big.”

The exhibition hall was the largest among the national pavilions, considering not only paintings but also sculptures and installation art.

“But why?”

“He said it was Marso’s request. He didn’t tell me the details.”

I would understand if it was Henri, but Michel wouldn’t suggest such a thing without explaining.

Maybe Henri didn’t tell Michel either.

“What a strange thing. I have to meet Platini.”

“No, Grandfather.”

“Hmm?”

“Henri must have something in mind. Please do as he says.”

Bang Tae-ho rubbed his chin.

“I passed it on since he suggested it, but I’m against it. Maple is a really meaningful work. It might even get a better evaluation than Frosty Millet Field, beyond being a good work.”

“I feel the same way.”

Bang Tae-ho straightened his back.

I had been cautious about approaching him, thinking that I had received more attention and love than my abilities deserved.

But I was confident about .

I had learned various materials and expanded the way of using colors at the same time, but was so well done that I wondered if I could draw a better work than this.

Grandfather smiled as if he was proud of me, who had found confidence.

“Right. That’s why I think it should be in the center. It would be nice to display them all in good places, but there’s no choice since there’s only one best place. Your 149 million… Maple suits it best.”

Most of the works for the Venice Biennale had arrived at the exhibition hall.

Only Henri’s work was not finished yet, but Bang Tae-ho seemed to think that my work should be in the center.

I was grateful.

“What did Michel think?”

“Platini also agreed to put Maple there until yesterday. But he changed his mind in a day.”

Bang Tae-ho showed his resentment.

Michel wouldn’t have been rude, considering his usual personality.

He must have suggested it cautiously, not knowing the reason, but Bang Tae-ho seemed to be hurt by the fact that he wanted to show off my painting.

He was reliable.

“It’s okay. Henri won’t harm me. He must have something in mind.”

“I hope so, but I still want to hear the story.”

“Okay. Let’s do as you say, sir.”

“I’ll contact him.”

-You mean well, but you have to explain why. What would Hoon think?

Meanwhile, Michelle Platini blamed Henri Marso.

“You’re not supposed to know in advance.”

-Then you should have thought of a better excuse. Hoon was nice enough to understand, but anyone else would have fought with you by now. ƒreewebɳovel.com

“That’s what we agreed on.”

Michelle Platini, who was on the phone with Henri, tapped her chest in frustration.

She had thought Henri’s idea was very sweet when she first heard it, but he acted like a fool.

He had prepared a wonderful gift, but he made the person feel hurt before giving it. She didn’t understand why.

She tried to persuade her lovely fool once more.

-You’ll like it when you see it. But it’s not for just anyone.

“I’m not doing it for anyone.”

-Ha. Sure. You’re such a great lover. Bye!

Henri Marso handed the phone to Arsen after ending the call and looked at the sunset of Venice.

He had spent two months in Venice, working as an architect and a meteorologist, and he had just started his work recently.

‘How about trying something other than self-portraits?’

The words that the kid, who was neither a friend nor a colleague nor a rival, had thrown at him had brought a big change to him.

“Sir, this is the expected location.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Unless the weather is bad, it’s certain.”

The exhibition hall construction manager approached Henri Marso, who nodded.

“It seems possible thanks to the postponement of the opening.”

“But?”

“I’m worried about the inconvenience of getting up there. Since people usually see more than one exhibition hall, I think it would be better to have two entrances, one on the basement and one on the first floor.”

“Do that. And don’t forget to leave it empty.”

“Yes. Don’t worry.”

Henri Marso looked around the exhibition hall of the villain and took a deep breath.

The work he had been preparing since last Christmas was finally showing results.

“Sir.”

Arsen called him from behind.

“Hoon is calling.”

Henri took the phone.

“Why.”

-What are you doing there all the time?

“Work.”

-Don’t you think I know that? Aren’t you going to school?

“I’m busy. I’ll go next semester. Why?”

-Rabani is looking forward to Henri’s class.

It was about Vida Rabani, who had entered Henri’s fourth middle school thanks to the scholarship program.

The boy who was nurturing his dream of becoming a painter through the Marso Gallery was thrilled by the thought of learning from Henri Marso, whom he admired.

Hoon told him everything from Vida Rabani’s news to trivial stories, and Henri Marso listened and responded occasionally.

-Then I’ll contact you again.

“Okay.”

Henri Marso, who was looking up at the exhibition hall of the villain, opened his mouth before the call ended.

“Don’t worry about it and prepare something else. There’s Art Basel too.”

-I’m not worried.

The sunset was dyed like autumn leaves.