Van Gogh Reborn! - Chapter 60

“Well, he’s a good man, but he got a different job. I’m sure he’ll be busy with just the museum work.”

The way the exhibition was handled, was very impressive.

Wherever I went, my exhibition was introduced, and the exhibition room was well decorated so that my paintings could be delivered effectively.

I wonder if I can find a better person like Uncle Bang, who has an eye for painting and make good conversation about Art.

While I was thinking so hard, we arrived at the WH Art Museum.

“ Hun, you go inside. I’ll park the car and come.”

“Okay grandpa.”

I got out of the car and went into the museum.

Like I heard from Kim Jiwoo, Henry Marceau even came today.

He just stood in front of [Frost Wheat Field] again today.

I think I really like him, when I saw him come to see my painting every single day.

He may be a strange man, but I was very grateful when I saw him see him like that.

” You are here again,”

I said, sneaking up on him.

Henry turned his head and immediately turned away his eyes to the [Frost wheat field].

I had nothing to say, and when I was about to go back, Henry spoke.

“Is it true that it’s not for sale right now?”

Henry’s eyes are still on the frosty wheat field.

“We decided to do that. It was that kind of condition.”

There is no reason to tell him the detailed reason, that it was to generate profits from works that were not sold, while applying the profit distribution ratio advantageously.

Henry, as a professional Artist, who could infer to some extent, turned his head.

“Even if the exhibition is extended?”

“Yes.”

I heard that the original week will be extended by one more week.

“…satisfied?”

“What?”

“Are you satisfied with this kind of place?”

I don’t know why this person is always picking a fight with me whenever I meet him.

“What’s wrong with this place?”

“If it was Paris or New York, ten times as much would have come.”

At that moment, I couldn’t refute it.

Compared to Paris and Amsterdam, there were fewer people visiting museums in Seoul.

Henry Marceau’s exhibition was visited by 30,000 people a day.

I’m happy that 10,000 people come a day, but I keep wanting more people to come.

Henry Marceau went on in anguish.

“Artist’s job doesn’t end with just painting a work. It is also the artist’s job to find where the work should be.”

Unlike his usual gangster-like manner, he was serious.

I was happy with just one visitor, but now I can’t be satisfied with 10,000 people.

To be honest, I also want my paintings to be seen by a wider world as Henry Marceau says.

In order to make it happen, I have to find a manager that grandfather and Uncle Bang talked about.

“Thank you for the kind words.”

“Hmph.”

Henry Marceau snorted and reached out to the secretary.

“Hun,”

I heard Uncle Bang voice.

When I was about to turn my head, Henry Marceau said, wearing colored glasses.

“There will be an art festival in New York. Whitney Biennale.”

It is the art festival that Kim Jiwoo talked about.

“If you’re a thoughtful curator….”

Henry’s gaze was directed at Bang Tae.

“I don’t think you would have released this painting at the same time as the Whitney Biennale.”

Uncle Bang bit his lips and clenched his fist.

“You’re talking too much,”

Uncle Bang said to Henry Marceau while glaring at him.

“It seems like a very loyal curator, trying to monopolize such a great work for the benefit of only one museum.”

Henry slowly approached Uncle Bang.

“No matter how good conditions you bring and how you decorate the exhibition room…..it can’t rationalize your actions…There is a place for each and this is not where [Frost wheat field] should be.”

Uncle Bang did not answer anything.

He suppressed his emotions to the point where his blood vessels sprang up on his neck.

“Hey Brat.”

Henry Marceau turned towards me.

“Your work should never get struck in this small world.”

Even though he’s a bit of prick, he’s right this time.

I can draw pictures anywhere, but I have to go out to a bigger stage to let more people know my work.

I’ve already got that greed in my heart.

I can’t be satisfied just by someone buying my painting.

I want my works to communicate with more people.

I raised my head and said to Henry with a smile

“Uncle Bang is a wonderful curator. I don’t think anyone would have decorated it as well as him,”

“You……”

“Next time.”

I Cut him off and solidified my will.

“We’ll have a better exhibition than this one. At that time, the number of people visiting the exhibition will be more than the people who visited Marceau’s gallery.”

I turned my head towards Uncle Bang.

“Right, uncle?”

⏩⏩⏩⏩⏩⏩

Bang Tae could not readily answer Ko Hun’s question whether he would decorate a better exhibition than this time.

He couldn’t easily respond to the desire for a better exhibition than Henry Marceau’s.

{Sweet Happiness} was an exhibition that showed his full potential as a member of the WH Art Museum.

In order to promote it not only domestically but also overseas, the museum’s management had to be persuaded repeatedly.

Bang Tae did his best, and the exhibition was successful.

In fact, it was the biggest individual event in Korea in the past 10 years.

However, it was questionable whether he could fulfil Ko Hun’s wish.

The overseas exhibition itself was not impossible.

Bang Tae also had experience showing artworks owned by the WH Art Museum in London, Paris, and New York.

But it was just not as successful as Ko Hun’s expectations and wishes.

He thought Ko Hun’s works would work overseas, but there were limitations, because he belongs to a Art Museum.

Here he had no decision-making power, he couldn’t do anything without the permission of the museum authority, and he couldn’t go on an offensive.

“Hun,”

Bang Tae had to say.

He had to say that he didn’t have that ability and that he should meet good manager to show off his capabilities.

That was the way to go.

He was sure that it was how it should be.

But Bang Tae couldn’t admit it.

He was angry.

He wasn’t angry just because of Henry Marceau’s provocation.

This is not because of Henry Marceau’s harsh tone and complacent attitude, but because Bang Tae also thought the same during the exhibition.

He regretted that the two-year rental agreement, which was offered to lead the profit distribution rate to an advantage, might hamper Ko Hun.

Celebrities from all over the world visited one after another, and it was known through the media and the number of visitors was increasing again due to its promotional effect, and such a virtuous cycle brought benefits that cannot simply be calculated for money to the WH Art Museum.

However, it was heartbreaking to think that Ko Hun’s work was tied to one place as an art lover.

It was possible to collect Ko Hun’s works and hold an overseas exhibition, but there was a limit to the support that could be expected from a passive Art museum side, in overseas exhibitions.

As the museum itself was purely funded by WH Group, the management tried to reduce losses rather than risk them for large profits.

In such an environment, it was not possible to explore overseas markets properly.

Bang Tae judged that Henry Marceau’s opinion was right.

What if the [Frost wheat field] was exhibited in Whitney Biennale?

Or what if it was revealed in cities where many people enjoy Art like New York and Paris.

Not 10,000 people a day.

They could have hoped more than that.

When Bang Tae imagined such a situation, his heart as a curator jumped.

The exhibition room, created with great care, approaches the public as a part of art.

If he could show his life-long work to more people.

If he could convey the impression he felt in a strong way, nothing was more valuable than that.

Bang Tae turned his head towards the little boy who was looking at him with pure eyes and replied.

“Yes. We will do it.”

Ko Hun smiled at the reliable answer.

Henry Marceau, who was looking at it, snorted.

In Korea, his skills seem to be recognized, but Bang Tae was as unknown on the world stage.

Looking at {Sweet Happiness}, the composition and planning skills were not bad.

It was questionable how much Bang Tae could help Ko Hun in the Art world, which is thoroughly driven by name value.

Henry Marceau warned Ko Hun.

“Be honest,”

Ko Hun did not avoid his gaze.

“Like your painting, you also don’t belong to be here.”

Henry Marceau hoped Ko Hun would be on the same stage as him.

He didn’t want a genius artist he recognized to be influenced by a bloody critic and a narrow market.

He wanted him to receive a fair evaluation among those who enjoy Art with their hearts.

Only then history will properly evaluate Henry Marceau and Ko Hun.

Until that day comes.

He was going to use his brush thoroughly so that he could compete head to head with his rival.

“Wait for me…..”

Ko Hun started speaking, while reaching out his hand towards Henry Marceau.

“I’ll soon reach the stage where you are.”

The expression was rude and rough, but it meant reconciliation because he knew the true feelings.

Henry Marceau stared down at Ko Hun’s hand.

He didn’t feel like it.

Except for Michelle Platini, no one has ever expressed displeasure with his behavior.

While smiling on the outside, they cursed and laughed servilely on the inside.

Ko Hun, who seemed to understand him while answering back, was a very unfamiliar being to him.

He has yet to figure out how to deal with the rival in front of him.

Chak

Henry Marceau lightly slapped Ko Hun’s palm.

“Wait….Huh….I’ll be in a place, where you could never reach. ”

Henry Marceau said as he was leaving the showroom.

The artist who hurt his pride drew his most beloved painting.

Henry Marceau rubbed his nose in the midst of complicated feelings that even he could not organize.

“You’ll be hated.”

Henry Marceau stopped and turned towards the owner of the voice

Then Pierre Malo approached him.

Henry Marceau looked at him and said.

“I don’t care.”

Henry Marceau didn’t want Ko Hun to think well of him.

The relationship with the genius boy was not important.

It was enough for him if he could just see his paintings.

Pierre Malo rolled up his mustache and smiled.

“ I’m excited to see what kind of picture the little van Gogh draws, when he grows up.”

Henry Marceau was still nervous when he imagined what kind of painting Ko Hun, who draws works such as [Frost Wheat Field] will draw in the future.

‘Can he go beyond that?’

‘Can I keep up.’

‘Perhaps…’

The idea of scratching the pride of the best painter Henry Marceau was the reason why he could not treat Ko Hun kindly.

Pierre Malo spoke.

“Little Van Gogh is full of willpower. I’m also a little impatient.”

Pierre Malo smiled softly as Henry Marceau narrowed his brows.

“Now that the two geniuses of the current Art world are competing against each other, I think there will be more opportunities to frame their paintings in the future. I’m really looking forward to it.”

At Pierre Malo’s remark, which was neither joking nor lying.

Henry Marceau clenched his fist.