Van Gogh Reborn! - Chapter 22
As grandpa said, we arrived in Amsterdam in less than a day.
It’s good that people don’t die when they fly in the sky and go somewhere.
Although I was mesmerized by the view from the sky.
Like Theo, and Lautrec, if people from the 19th century had had the same experience, they would have been trembling about dying or would have refused to get on an airplane in the first place.
“Hallo. Hallo kleintje”
(Hello. Hello little one.)
“Let me see….how do you say hello in Dutch?”
While Grandpa was looking for greetings in Dutch on his smartphone, the man looked at me and smiled.
“Hallo. Hallo.”
Grandpa said awkwardly in Dutch.
“Waarom ben je naar Nederland gekomen?”
(What made you visit Holland ?)
“What ? Well. Can’t you speak English? French.”
I went in front.
“Ik kwam voor een bezoek aan het Van Gogh Museum”
(I came to visit the Van Gogh Museum.)
The man opened his eyes wide seeing me speak in Dutch.
“Oh oh. Het wordt een geweldige ervaring. Als je naar het Van Gogh Museum gaat, zorg dan dat je zonnebloemen ziet. Als mijn hoofd ingewikkeld wordt, vind ik daar troost.”
(Oh oh. It will be a great experience. If you go to the Van Gogh Museum, be sure to see sunflowers. When my head gets complicated, I find comfort there.)
“echt?”
(really?)
“Er zijn veel grote schilders, maar het enige schilderij dat me troostte was Van Gogh. De enige plek waar je gemoedsrust kunt kopen voor 19 euro. Oh, je bent jong, dus 10 euro zou genoeg zijn.”
(There are many great painters, but the only painting that comforted me was Van Gogh’s. The only place where you can buy peace of mind for 19 euros. Oh, you’re young, so 10 euros would be enough.)
I can’t adapt.
I’m happy and thankful that people like my drawings so much, but it’s also felt awkward.
“Het lijkt erop dat uw kleinzoon heel goed Nederlands kent? Maar zijn accent doet me denken alsof ik tegen mijn overleden grootvader praat. Hahaha!”
(Looks like your grandson is very familiar with Dutch? But his accent makes me think like I’m talking to my dead grandfather. Hahaha!)
“Hun, what did this person say?”
“He said……….Am I your grandson….”
“Hahaha! That’s right. He’s my grandson.”
“Hahahah!”
They laughed looking at each other even when they didn’t understand what the each other was talking about.
I was able to pass only after the chatty man stamped a small notebook for me.
“Ugh. Little Hun, without you, I would have been stranded.”
When Grandpa put his smartphone in his pocket, he shook his head.
“I think Grandpa should be wearing this necklace.”
Grandpa smiled when I showed the embarrassing necklace.
We took a taxi from the airport straight to the hotel.
“Dank u.”
As we got out of the taxi, the huge golden building came into view.
It rises so much that I can’t see it’s top even after lifting my head.
It is so luxurious that it is difficult for even some nobles to stay.
“By the way, why is it daytime?”
It took 11 hours to arrive, so it should be evening, but I don’t know why.
“It’s kind of weird.”
“what?”
“Why is it still noon?”
“Huh. It’s because of the time difference. There is probably a 7 hour time difference between Seoul and Amsterdam.”
“……..how?”
Wasn’t time constant?
“The day and the night are decided by the presence or absence of the sun, right? Because the earth is round and it turns, when you look at the sun in the morning, it is night on the other side of the earth.”
Okay. I wonder what would be impossible with people flying in the sky.
There are too many amazing things, so I don’t want to cling on to the incomprehensible.
As I lay down on the bed to sleep, Grandpa asked with a hollow smile.
“If you sleep now, what are you going to do at night?”
That’s right.
It’s better to wash my face with cold water to calm myself down.
“Let’s rest today and go to the Van Gogh Museum tomorrow.”
“Can’t we go now?”
“now?”
I’m sleepy, but I want to check it out as soon as possible.
I really want to know if I am really loved as my grandpa, Aunt Mirae, and the chatty man at the airport said, and how am I being evaluated now?
I wonder if there was anyone who recognized my struggles.
“You’ll be able to watch the show quietly tomorrow, so let’s be patient.”
As I nodded my head at grandpa’s words, I lay down on the bed for a moment.
I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids became heavier and heavier.
Thus my eyes got shut by itself.
“Sleep a little. Grandpa will wake you up.”
After saying those words Grandpa kissed me on my forehead.
⏩⏩⏩⏩⏩⏩
next day.
Early in the morning, we took the tram to the Van Gogh Museum.
It is like a train, but it is a strange means of transportation that runs quietly without emitting steam.
“There it is.”
When I looked in the direction Grandpa was pointing, there were three big buildings.
‘It really exists. My museum’
On one side of the building, the words “Van Gogh Museum” hang across the door.
I followed grandpa to a sphere-shaped building with a glass exterior, and there I saw a fence with a monitor.
“What is this?”
“It’s a place to stand in line.”
There’s no one here, even though there’s a place for people to be queuing.
We headed inside.
A man with familiar looks, white skin and blonde hair, greeted us warmly.
“Nice to meet you, Sir Ko sooyeol. My name is Kevin from the Van Gogh Museum.”
He was fluent in English and was polite.
‘It’s wonderful. I didn’t know Grandpa was knighted.’
“nice to meet you.”
Grandpa smiled and shook hands with him.
“This is…”
The man named Kevin saw me and then looked at grandpa, who nodded his head.
“ Hello, I’m Ko Hun.”
When I said hello, he said something that I didn’t expect.
“I saw [sunflower]. I was surprised by the use of colors reminiscent of Van Gogh.”
“Did you see [sunflower]?”
“It became known when Henry Marceau bought it. In Europe, [Sunflower] is the most talked about work this year.”
Although it was sold for a large amount of money, the most talked-about word this year in Europe is probably the word that made me feel good.
“Then, shall we go see it?”
I went inside the building under his guidance.
There are several places that look like shops.
They hung my pictures on postcards and painted them on clothes, but no one really was there.
I wondered if this spacious building was really necessary, so I watched with a brisk mind, then Kevin opened his mouth.
“You can browse the souvenir shop after viewing. When it’s time to open, now let’s take a look inside.”
We went up the moving stairs called the escalator.
I could see my self-portrait.
I felt a little embarrassed by the look of my face that fills one side of the wall.
It seems that my picture was pulled out using a printer and pasted on the wallpaper.
When I was looking at my picture, Kevin opened his mouth.
“Intense colors, rough and delicate brush strokes are Vincent van Gogh’s most distinct personalities.”
I slowly made my way into the exhibition hall while listening to his words.
“It’s a little different from the image of a madman and wild, isn’t it?”
I guess I’m still known as a madman.
“But those squishy mouths and intense eyes also look sad. He might have wanted to portray himself overcoming or enduring something dangerously. He was an honest painter to himself.”
As I entered the exhibition hall while listening to Kevin’s explanation, there were actually 13 paintings I had drawn on display.
The paintings on the walls are all fakes, but the self-portraits and portraits in the glass coffin were the ones I drew.
“Why is the one hanging on the wall a fake?”
When I asked Kevin, he grinned.
“Would you like to know?”
Of course it’s my picture, I would like to know.
“It is true that we keep it, but as an art museum, it is very difficult. We have such a great painting, but we can’t put it out recklessly.”
“why?”
“If a painting is damaged or stolen after hanging it, it is a huge blow to the art museum as well as to humanity as a whole.”
“Is it that important?”
Thank you for appreciating my paintings, but I think you are overestimating them.
“A Van Gogh painting costs tens of millions of euros. Some of them cost over 100 million euros.”
[Sunflower] was sold to Henri Marceau for 2 million euros.
Aunt Mirae said that I don’t have to worry about money for the rest of my life just for that, but if it is hundreds of millions of euros.
Grandpa told the same story, but I just can’t believe it.
“It may be inappropriate to say the value of a painting in terms of money, but I think it is the most objective number that shows how much a loved artist he is.”
“Anyway, that’s why we exhibit these elaborately made replicas, and take turns showing some of the real ones. It’s a management level decision.”
As I nodded my head and looked at the work, Kevin brought up another story.
“Do you know? Some of the paintings known as Van Gogh’s self-portraits are not Van Gogh.”
I looked back to see what he meant.
“This is because it is difficult to clearly tell whether the painting was of the artist himself or that of his brother Theodore. Even though they were brothers, it is said that the two were particularly very similar.”
What similar….
Theo was smarter, better, and made more money than me.
Although I heard bad stories for a while, he was able to gain the trust of those around him and succeeded as a videographer, so he was superior to me in every way.
His character is also better than mine.
“This is Theo, and that is Theo.”
“Hahaha. You are very sure.”
Grandpa smiled and patted my head.
He don’t seem to believe what I said.
“The fact that Van Gogh always portrayed himself differently was also a factor in not knowing whether it was his brother or himself. For example, in this self-portrait he sent to his mother, he trimmed his beard and painted his eyes intensely. Do you know why.?”
“He didn’t want his mother to worry seeing him look unwell.”
“Right. You know it very well.”
The courteous Kevin nodded his head and continued the explanation again.
“But Van Gogh wasn’t the kind of person who glorified himself. Here, looking at this picture, a sign of distress is evident. The reason why all his self-portraits give different impressions is because they project the inside of him, not the outside of himself. That’s what Vincent van Gogh is unique about.”
Even in the Renaissance period, efforts were made to draw objects accurately.
During Louis XIV’s regime of France, it went in the wrong direction, and only drawing an ideal picture became the correct answer.
Kevin praised me by pointing it out, but in fact, many painters at the time struggled like me to break away from the traditional order.
It was just that their methods were different.
“It wasn’t just Van Gogh.”
Kevin looked at me with puzzled eyes.
“Manet, Monet, Renoir, Paul Gauguin, Lautrec, and many others who were painting at the time struggled in their own way.”
They were literally struggling at that time.
It was a time when people who could not live without expressing themselves struggled to survive despite being oppressed by the existing order.
I am just one of those people who lived in that era.
I am a loser who failed in trying to put me on the canvas.
Kevin smiled brightly.
“Right. Manet, Monet, Renoir, Gauguin, Lautrec. There were a lot of really good painters in those days. They all made great achievements that goes down in the history of art.”
When the names of the painters who had been ridiculed countless times by critics were mentioned in Kevin’s mouth, an unknown joy rose in my heart.
Now, they have been recognized enough to be recorded in art history.
I’m really happy for everyone.
Could there be anything more enjoyable than this?
“But to me, Van Gogh is more special.”
When I turned my head, Kevin said, looking at my self-portrait.
“Though 137 years have passed since Van Gogh’s death, many painters are still fighting with reality. Sometimes they get frustrated and when think of giving up art, the person that comes to their mind and stops them is Vincent Van Gogh. Like me here.”
He turned his head and met my gaze.
“Even if you are ridiculed as a maniac or abandoned by their own family for pursuing art. They take courage from him, who didn’t give up and fought to the end even when he was on his deathbed.”
Kevin’s voice didn’t waver.
The eyes that were looking at me were full of admiration.
“Vincent van Gogh is the person who gave us the courage to endure those difficult times with the belief that, no matter how dark the path we go now is, one day the Sun will definitely rise and at that time people who are looking down on us will look at us like a sunflower looking at the Sun.”
“ For the past 137 years, Vincent Van Gogh has been the undisputed HERO in the hearts of every artists around the world.”
I was called a madman, maniac, idiot painter…..but this was the first time someone has called me………. a HERO.
