Short, Light, Free Chapter 86

Chapter 86: The Value of Art I

I'm Chalk and I'm an artist .

I came from Dashan Village, where not many understood art .

I played with my companions a lot when I was young .

While they were busy playing in the mud, I was making shapes with it and was often made fun of by them .

Of course, I didn't mind .

When the village's volunteer teacher mentioned one day that fire can harden clay, I got excited .

After class, I brought my figurine to the teacher's house .

However, she only frowned upon seeing it .

Nevertheless, I asked happily, "This will crack when dried, Teacher . You said fire can harden it and not leave cracks . Is it true?"

She smiled . "How about you leave your figurine with me and you head home first? I'll settle it and bring it to you tomorrow . "

"But I'd like to learn," I said .

Helpless, she responded, "It's time I give you extra classes . What is this ugly thing?"

"But that's you," I replied .

That day, she borrowed a stove from the neighbor's house .

We remodeled the figurine before getting rid of the surface bubbles and knots .

I looked on as she placed my mud figurine on the stove .  

Four hours later, she

retrieved it with a stick and placed it outside to cool down before handing it to me .

I was so happy that I couldn't speak . The teacher smiled and asked, "Do you like it?"

I nodded eagerly before revealing a wide grin .

After some thought, she added, "Come over at night, whenever you're free, and I'll teach you more . "

The teacher stayed with us for three years, and according to her, our artistic standard had improved from being completely illiterate to that of a junior high school student .

And I was her favorite student .

She gave me many one-to-one classes, teaching me things like perspectives and the golden ratio .

Whenever she returned home for the new year, she would come back with propylene paints .

"These paints can give your work colors, but they can only last 5 years . Remember to keep the lids closed when you're not using them or they will harden," she told me kindly .

Before she left, she passed all her materials to me . I cherished them so much that I used them really stingily .

I started making more and more potteries and got better at it .

While other kids were plowing the fields at 14 or 15, I refused to let go of the clay even at 17 years old .

While Mom and Dad nagged at me every day, they don't really push me out to work .

Because the stuff I make could fetch money .  

I'll have to start from

from my father .

Each year, some villagers would make a trip to town to engage in trading, and my father happened to be one of the agents .

Dad brought two of my art pieces into the city a few years back and returned with a green banknote . He was beyond happy .

I recognized the 50 dollar bill in spite of the fact that we, as villagers, had no use for it .

Dad shared, "There was a group of tourists in the city . One of them looked at your ceramic art for a long time before asking for the price . Before he could buy it, an argument broke out because someone else was interested in it too . The price kept going higher . "

Later on, I discovered that the tourist group had experienced a tire burst while on the road .

The tour guide quickly brought them into the market in order to pass time, and two tourists happened to catch sight of my ceramic works and got into a fight .

Eventually, Dad sold them off at 50 each, before using a 50 to buy a bunch of things back to the village .

A few years after that incident, Dad stopped following the other villagers to the market .

Instead, he pushed his handcart, containing my ceramic pieces, even further away .

He chose a rest station where tour buses would often stop for tourists to take a break from their long journey .

Dad would then pull his cart around to sell my work, then spend the earnings on supplies .

Initially, employees at the station would chase Dad away, but after some time, upon discovering that he had traveled miles just to get business, they started to sympathize with him .

And Dad started from selling the pieces once a year to once in six months .  

Then once a month . I was requested to create 10 pieces each month .

It was easy for me since I enjoyed making things . The only problem I had was that some of my paints were running out . I had no choice but to bring it up to Dad .

After some discussion, he decided to look for some people at the rest station .

He sought help from a bus driver, who actually agreed to bring him some paints .

However, Dad got a shock when the driver pointed to his phone screen to show him the cost of the paints .

Over a hundred for one small tube of paint . The driver laughed and suggested that he used my ceramic pieces as collateral .

Although Dad felt that the driver was being dishonest, he had no choice but to accept his offer .

Every month, he would bring ten ceramic pieces to the rest station and pass five of it to the driver in exchange for five tubes of paint .

Then, he would sell away the other five pieces for cash to buy supplies from the market .  

It became a regular routine .

However, as the distance between our village and the rest station was about 17 kilometers away, Dad would only return home late at night .

One day, when he no longer had the energy to carry on, he handed this task over to me .

For the first few times, he would follow me as I pull the cart to the rest station .

After the third time, he completely entrusted the job to me .

During my first trip alone, I met up with the bus driver .

"Where's that old man?" he asked .

"My father? He can't do this anymore . I'll take over from here . Do you still have red paint?"

He entered the resting room while I waited outside .

I noticed him retrieving it from a drawer filled with countless tubes of paint .

That aroused my suspicion . Aren't these things expensive?

The driver approached me and handed two tubes of red paint over . "2 for 200, or 5 ceramic pieces . "

After sealing the deal, I started chatting with a customer after selling my pieces .

He told me he was an art student and he took a lot of interest in my work .

I quickly asked him about the price of paint tubes .

He fished out his phone and introduced me to an app called Taobao .  

After checking out the real price of the paint tubes, I couldn't control my emotions .

I ran off to give the bus driver a good beating .

A few other employees held me back . It was a big mess at the rest station .

I returned home, crying to Dad and telling him the truth . He got so angry that he picked up a hoe and got ready to go seek revenge .

I stopped him, of course, but he was so upset that he couldn't sleep that night .

The next day, he took out a small pouch and said to me, "Go to the city, kid . This is not the place for you . The city's where you should be . "

I opened the pouch and saw ten 100 bills .

I 39 m Chalk and I 39 m an artist . I came from Dashan Village, where not many understood art . I played with my companions a lot when I was young . While they were busy playing in the mud, I was making shapes with it and was often made fun of by them . Of course, I didn 39 t mind . When the village 39 s volunteer teacher mentioned one day that fire can harden clay, I got excited . After class, I brought my figurine to the teacher 39 s house . However, she only frowned upon seeing it . Nevertheless, I asked happily, This will crack when dried, Teacher . You said fire can harden it and not leave cracks . Is it true She smiled . How about you leave your figurine with me and you head home first I 39 ll settle it and bring it to you tomorrow . But I 39 d like to learn, I said . Helpless, she responded, It 39 s time I give you extra classes . What is this ugly thing But that 39 s you, I replied . That day, she borrowed a stove from the neighbor 39 s house . We remodeled the figurine before getting rid of the surface bubbles and knots . I looked on as she placed my mud figurine on the stove . Four hours later, she retrieved it with a stick and placed it outside to cool down before handing it to me . I was so happy that I couldn 39 t speak . The teacher smiled and asked, Do you like it I nodded eagerly before revealing a wide grin . After some thought, she added, Come over at night, whenever you 39 re free, and I 39 ll teach you more . . . . The teacher stayed with us for three years, and according to her, our artistic standard had improved from being completely illiterate to that of a junior high school student . And I was her favorite student . She gave me many one to one classes, teaching me things like perspectives and the golden ratio . Whenever she returned home for the new year, she would come back with propylene paints . These paints can give your work colors, but they can only last 5 years . Remember to keep the lids closed when you 39 re not using them or they will harden, she told me kindly . Before she left, she passed all her materials to me . I cherished them so much that I used them really stingily . I started making more and more potteries and got better at it . . . . . . While other kids were plowing the fields at 14 or 15, I refused to let go of the clay even at 17 years old . While Mom and Dad nagged at me every day, they don 39 t really push me out to work . Because the stuff I make could fetch money . I 39 ll have to start from my father . Each year, some villagers would make a trip to town to engage in trading, and my father happened to be one of the agents . Dad brought two of my art pieces into the city a few years back and returned with a green banknote . He was beyond happy . I recognized the 50 dollar bill in spite of the fact that we, as villagers, had no use for it . Dad shared, There was a group of tourists in the city . One of them looked at your ceramic art for a long time before asking for the price . Before he could buy it, an argument broke out because someone else was interested in it too . The price kept going higher . Later on, I discovered that the tourist group had experienced a tire burst while on the road . The tour guide quickly brought them into the market in order to pass time, and two tourists happened to catch sight of my ceramic works and got into a fight . Eventually, Dad sold them off at 50 each, before using a 50 to buy a bunch of things back to the village . A few years after that incident, Dad stopped following the other villagers to the market . Instead, he pushed his handcart, containing my ceramic pieces, even further away . He chose a rest station where tour buses would often stop for tourists to take a break from their long journey . Dad would then pull his cart around to sell my work, then spend the earnings on supplies . Initially, employees at the station would chase Dad away, but after some time, upon discovering that he had traveled miles just to get business, they started to sympathize with him . And Dad started from selling the pieces once a year to once in six months . Then once a month . I was requested to create 10 pieces each month . It was easy for me since I enjoyed making things . The only problem I had was that some of my paints were running out . I had no choice but to bring it up to Dad . After some discussion, he decided to look for some people at the rest station . He sought help from a bus driver, who actually agreed to bring him some paints . However, Dad got a shock when the driver pointed to his phone screen to show him the cost of the paints . Over a hundred for one small tube of paint . The driver laughed and suggested that he used my ceramic pieces as collateral . Although Dad felt that the driver was being dishonest, he had no choice but to accept his offer . Every month, he would bring ten ceramic pieces to the rest station and pass five of it to the driver in exchange for five tubes of paint . Then, he would sell away the other five pieces for cash to buy supplies from the market . It became a regular routine . However, as the distance between our village and the rest station was about 17 kilometers away, Dad would only return home late at night . One day, when he no longer had the energy to carry on, he handed this task over to me . For the first few times, he would follow me as I pull the cart to the rest station . After the third time, he completely entrusted the job to me . During my first trip alone, I met up with the bus driver . Where 39 s that old man he asked . My father He can 39 t do this anymore . I 39 ll take over from here . Do you still have red paint He entered the resting room while I waited outside . I noticed him retrieving it from a drawer filled with countless tubes of paint . That aroused my suspicion . Aren 39 t these things expensive The driver approached me and handed two tubes of red paint over . 2 for 200, or 5 ceramic pieces . After sealing the deal, I started chatting with a customer after selling my pieces . He told me he was an art student and he took a lot of interest in my work . I quickly asked him about the price of paint tubes . He fished out his phone and introduced me to an app called Taobao . After checking out the real price of the paint tubes, I couldn 39 t control my emotions . I ran off to give the bus driver a good beating . A few other employees held me back . It was a big mess at the rest station . I returned home, crying to Dad and telling him the truth . He got so angry that he picked up a hoe and got ready to go seek revenge . I stopped him, of course, but he was so upset that he couldn 39 t sleep that night . The next day, he took out a small pouch and said to me, Go to the city, kid . This is not the place for you . The city 39 s where you should be . I opened the pouch and saw ten 100 bills .

Chapter end