Van Gogh Reborn! Chapter 136

Henry Marceau turned around after seeing Vida Lavani's old easel and the sparsely empty pastel. 

Then Vida Lavani, who was looking around, asked. 

“Are you leaving?” 

Henry Marceau turned his head annoyingly. 

“I heard you buy paintings often on the street. By any chance..…”  

Vida Lavani mumbled. 

Henry Marceau was a figure that all artists admired, and so was Vida Lavani. 

Just selling his work will make his name come in headlines. 

The Artist's reputation or background was not at all bothered, so some even worked on the streets to stand out for Henry Marceau. 

Vida Lavani thought that such luck had come to him, too. 

“Hahahaha,” 

Henry Marceau laughed in dismay. 

The boy's eyes opened wide with surprise. 

Henry Marceau made a mockery of Vida Lavani. 

“That's a symbol of France. After painting it like that, you want to sell it? Know your place.” 

“Ah…” 

Vida Lavani recalled the men who were threatening him just a moment ago. 

They also said something similar to Henry Marceau. 

The boy thought Henry Marceau was pointing out that as a Muslim he shouldn't draw.

“If you want to sell it to others, develop your skills first. There's no one to buy that crap.” 

At Henry Marceau's advice, Vida Lavani raised his head.

He felt hope in the words of Henry Marceau, who saw him as an aspiring artist, not as a Muslim.

“Really? Then, will you buy it, if I develop my skills?” 

Henry Marceau twitched his lips. 

“Can you draw a picture that Henry Marceau wants to buy?” 

“Huh,” 

“You can't unless you draw 10,000 pictures?” 

In Henry Marceau's view, Vida Lavani was not talented. 

It seemed that he didn't even get a basic education. 

He didn't know how to use color at all and didn't know what he wanted to express. 

“……” 

Vida Lavani dropped his head. 

If he had no talent and no education, he would have had to work hard by pushing himself to the brink of death, but it was even more hopeless to see him frustrated at the fact that he had to draw 10,000 pictures. 

Henry Marceau headed toward the car. 

“A ten thousand…,” 

muttered Vida Lavani, who was left alone. 

There was not enough pastel to draw ten thousand sheets. 

There was also a shortage of paper. 

He saved and used the pastel he received as a gift on his birthday last year, but some colors have been used up, and there are not many colors left to use.  

There are five more months left until his birthday in December. 

He knew it was greed, but Vida Lavani couldn't forget Henry Marceau's words. 

When Ko Hun was spending time at the Whitney Museum, Ko Sooyeol visited Ferdinando Gonzalez alone. 

Ferdinando welcomed his old friend wearing a mask. 

“Welcome.” 

“Gonzalez.” 

Ko Sooyeol could not help but be surprised at Ferdinando's visibly thin figure compared to what he saw two months ago. 

“Come in,” 

Ferdinando guided Ko Sooyeol into his house. 

“What the hell happened? How on earth did you become half of what I saw last time?” 

Ferdinando laughed without taking off his mask. 

“Don't look at me like that, Sooyeol. I'm all right.”

“It doesn't look all right. Is it the same problem from last time?” 

Ferdinando grinned bitterly and pulled a bottle of drink from the refrigerator. 

Ko Sooyeol looked around. 

“Is Louis out?” 

Ferdinando's partner Louis Reykok was missing. 

Ferdinando didn't tell the truth, so Ko Sooyeol wanted to ask Louis about what was going on. 

Ferdinando sat down offering the drink to Ko Sooyeol. 

After swallowing the drink several times and not saying anything, Ko Sooyeol asked again. 

“You have to tell me. What's going on in the house, you're so sick, where's Louis?” 

“……in the hospital.” 

Ferdinando's voice trembled. 

“Hospital?” 

Ko Sooyeol asked in a startled voice. 

“What happened?”

“……” 

Ferdinando agonized. 

Since he had no one to talk to about his own concerns, it seemed that he could no longer keep it secret. 

He felt like his heart would explode if he didn't tell anyone. 

Ferdinando said as if squeezing a heavy wound in his chest, thinking it would be okay if it was Ko Sooyeol, who understood his relationship with Louis.

Ferdinando said in a muffled voice. 

“It hurts a lot. They say it's too late.” 

Ko Sooyeol narrowed his eyes. 

The young friend in front of him looked like he was about to collapse at any moment. 

“I'm on your side. Say it. What happened?”  

Ko Sooyeol didn't know what happened, but he understood that it was something big looking at Ferdinando who looked more hesitant than the time when he confessed he was gay six years ago. 

Ko Sooyeol comforted and supported him as he did then. 

Ferdinando swallowed with difficulty and said. 

“It's AIDS,” 

Ferdinando looked up. 

“I have it, too.”  

Ko Sooyeol's eyes trembled. 

Ferdinando Gonzalez was indispensable to the art world. 

He was a pioneer in connecting art and the public by pushing the dogmatic mainstream art world.

Ko Sooyeol was saddened by the tragedy that had fallen upon the young artist and an old friend with a bright future. 

Ko Sooyeol asked cautiously. 

“Is there no way?”

“We've tried everything.” 

After a long silence, Ferdinando smiled and looked up. 

“I think this will be my last exhibition.” 

Ferdinando's cell phone vibrated as Ko Sooyeol was sighing.

It was a call from the hospital. 

Ferdinando hurriedly took the phone to his ear. 

“Yes, Gonzalez.” 

– I think you should come to the hospital. 

“…why?” 

– The patient is waiting. 

Ferdinando stood up quickly and wrapped his coat around. 

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Grandpa wanted to meet Ferdinando Gonzalez alone, so I visited the Whitney Museum of Art. 

There were fewer people than the first week, but still, they were enjoying the Whitney Biennale. 

Entering the museum, Ferdinando Gonzalez's [Untitled-perfect lovers] was the first to catch my eye. 

Unlike two months ago, the left wall clock stopped moving. 

The second hand of the right wall clock is also moving hard as if it will also soon stop. 

“Master Hun” 

John Carter, who guided me to the Whitney Biennale the other day greeted me as soon as he saw me. 

“Hello. How have you been?” 

“Great. After all, I'm surrounded by such wonderful works?” 

Ferdinando Gonzalez's work bothered me when he said wonderful works. 

Considering that the Whitney Museum, which is thorough in managing the works, has not changed the batteries of the clock, I think Gonzalez intended it to be like that. 

“Seeing that you haven't changed the batteries of the clock, I think the artist originally wanted it to be like that.” 

“Yes, it was the condition to display the simple work.” 

John Carter explained Gonzalez's work using the word Simple. 

“It's all about getting two clocks of the same model anywhere in the world, putting the same batteries in at the same time, and hanging them side by side.” 

By listening to John Carter's explanation, I could see that the direction he was thinking of while looking at this work was not wrong.

Even under the perfectly same conditions, you would have known that they would have no choice but to show a difference someday. 

Considering the subtitle [Perfect Lovers] does it denote the same time spent by the lovers. 

Does it mean that the lovers can't be together until the end? 

You can tell how Ferdinando Gonzalez was in love because he says he and his lover were perfect even if the day of parting comes one day. 

“It's amazing,” 

John Carter raised his eyebrows when I gave an honest impression. 

“I think the image is important. It's like form, texture, color.” 

John Carter nodded as if he understood. 

“I drew it hoping that my emotions would touch the eyes and chest of the audience. I like that kind of work. But…..” 

Ferdinando Gonzalez's work was very simple. 

It is different from me, grandpa, Henry Marceau, and Aunt Mirae, and it is also different from Papa and Mama. 

Unlike me, who adds paint while thinking about how to pour out emotions and convey them perfectly. 

He rules out as much as possible. 

“Gonzalez has a knack for stimulating curiosity and thinking in a very simple way.” 

I also used the word Simple to express his work. 

Actually, I don't know if that's an appropriate expression. 

Even if the result is simple, he would have thought a lot and repeated many failures to make it meaningful. 

John Carter smiled when I conveyed my idea. 

“Antoine de Saint-Exupéry said – Perfection is not a state where there is nothing left to add, but there is nothing left to subtract.” 

I agree. 

I think it's similar to the case of poetry. 

It is to maximize thinking and imagination in the implied sentence by thoroughly refining words and sentences and taking out unnecessary things. 

I want to try it at least once. 

WURRRR WURRRR 

My smartphone vibrated. 

It was Henry Marceau. 

He hasn't contacted me in the past few days, so I think he should have finally felt like apologizing. 

“Can I?”

Joe Carter showed his palm. 

I took the call. 

“What?” 

– What are you doing? 

“I'm in the art museum.” 

– Art museum? 

“Whitney Museum, if you're going to apologize, do it quickly. Don't waste my time.” 

– What apology? 

“For interrupting my broadcast, and disturbing me while doing the concept art of 'The strange Castle'. 

He doesn't seem to be aware of how rude he is. 

– Anyway. Why aren't you doing any broadcasts? 

” …What?” 

-Why not? 

How did this guy turn so weirdly? 

I thought he was just bad at expressing and doing commendable things, but now I can't figure it out. 

“It's up to me whether I do it or not. I'll hang up if you don't have anything to say.” 

-I warn you, don't hang up before me again. 

KACHIK

When I hung up, John Carter blinked. 

“I think it was Henry Marceau's voice…” 

“Yes, I thought he had something to say, but I guess he was just bored. Can I take a look around alone?” 

“Sure.” 

WURR WURRRRRR

I couldn't keep John Carter waiting, so I sent him and soon my phone vibrated again. 

– I told you not to hang up! 

“Stop being a nuisance.” 

– nuisance? 

“Don't you think I'm doing something?” 

– What are you doing? 

I sigh a lot when I talk to this person. 

“I'm going to watch the Whitney Biennale.” 

– do it later. 

When we meet next time, I should give a blow to his chin and talk about what his problem is. 

“Tell me what you want to say right now.” 

– Why are you saying like that? 

It's the voice of Sherry Gado. 

– Give it to me. Is it Hun? 

“Hello, Sherry.” 

– I think Henry wants to play with you. 

– What are you talking about nanny! Did you think of me as some kind of kindergarten kid 

“…….” 

What is she talking about? 

– Stay still. I'm doing it for you because you can't tell him. 

– When did I do that? 

– You look bored just by looking at your face. Hun, I'll make a lot of delicious food, so come and play. 

“Delicious?” 

– Yes. Don't go quickly like last time, play slowly and go. I'd love it if you paint with Henry for a while. 

– Don't come! I'm telling you. Don't come! 

“…I'll ask grandpa.” 

TRIVIA

Felix Gonzalez Torres. He was active for a short period of time from 1988 to 1996. He was a homosexual and a Cuban refugee who was active in a minority position, criticizing the mainstream art community. 

Felix Gonzalez Torres, who caused a big stir in the conservative American society of the time, is recognized as a symbol of modern art, with exhibitions held every year even after his death. 

He died of AIDS complications in 1996.

Chapter end