The Reborn Genius of an Arts High School - Chapter 16

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 16.
“I want to paint something that can astonish everyone.”
Everyone, including myself.
Hae-yoon let out a soft laugh watching Ye-ji add this with eyes bright with conviction.
“People will line up for an exhibition bearing my name, I’ll become the inspiration for every artist, and I’ll leave a mark in history.”
“Quite ambitious.”
Hae-yoon felt a certainty like some vague premonition.
Ye-ji would surely achieve that dream.
And perhaps on that path, he might be able to show her a shortcut or two.
“Then, listen carefully.”
Hae-yoon pulled over an old, dust-covered chair.
You might call it youthful audacity.
This small country was full of people who dreamed small.
There is no one who succeeds without failure, yet they all cower in fear of it.
Compared to such tedious sorts, Hae-yoon much preferred the bold girl before him.
“Good artists imitate, great artists steal.”
“That’s what Picasso said.”
Hae-yoon nodded at Ye-ji’s response.
“What do you think that means?”
Since she had heard the phrase even in her time as Katrin, Ye-ji answered without difficulty.
“It’s a world where pure creation is nearly impossible now. Master imitation well enough and you become a good artist. Steal brilliantly enough and you become a great one.”
It was blunt, but not wrong.
Ye-ji continued.
“Of course, not plagiarism. It must mean going beyond imitation to reinterpretation and transformation.”
All artists in the world become inspiration for each other.
The crucial perspective was how you could steal from someone else, digest it, and express it.
Hae-yoon nodded with satisfaction at Ye-ji’s answer.
“Besides, these days youngsters can paint itself damn well. But mere technical skill means nothing.”
Hearing Hae-yoon’s words, Ye-ji smiled slightly.
“So you’re complimenting me for drawing well, aren’t you?”
Even if Hae-yoon was buried out in the countryside, he wasn’t a blind old man.
He had little trouble learning about the work Ye-ji submitted to the Annual Art Competition last time.
The way she handled brush and paper before his eyes, the oil paintings he’d seen online.
It was more than enough for Hae-yoon to be certain of her skill.
But at her cheeky response, he flicked her forehead.
“Did you already forget what I said about skill being meaningless?”
At Hae-yoon’s action, Ye-ji twisted her mouth, but he tapped her forehead rhythmically as he spoke.
His gesture and tone were somewhat rough.
“In the end, it’s the people whose minds work better than their hands who can do proper art.”
But Ye-ji had no reason to feel offended.
Receiving sincere advice and guidance from an aged master was an extraordinary lesson.
In music, how much money did people pour out just to take a single hour’s lesson from an excellent professor?
To pinpoint exactly what’s lacking and show the direction for improvement.
That is teaching only those who have reached a certain level can give.
Ye-ji focused on his words with the determination not to miss a single one.
“Let me ask again. What painting do you want to make right now?”
Hae-yoon’s question was implicit, but Ye-ji grasped it quickly.
This time, his question was asking about a more immediate target.
“I want to paint something that combines Eastern and Western techniques. And have it recognized in an international competition.”
To foreign eyes, such a work would be a very fresh perspective.
And if she, who painted so well, achieved it, it would display an even more convincing beauty.
As Ye-ji spoke confidently, Hae-yoon asked bluntly.
“Then let me ask the opposite. Why do you think such works haven’t appeared yet?”
It was likely the same reason Hae-yoon had prevented Ye-ji from layering oil paint onto Hanji.
Instead of answering, Ye-ji reached out and pointed.
At Hae-yoon’s damaged old works.
Works that had deteriorated from incompatible materials.
People sometimes mistakenly believed there were no limits in art, but the truth was that art had very clear boundaries.
“The materials used in oil painting and Korean painting are too different.”
Ye-ji didn’t stop there but continued examining Hae-yoon’s ruined works.
She understood that oil and ink didn’t mix well together.
That oil and water don’t mix was, in a sense, common knowledge.
“But watercolor and ink don’t mix either?”
“They don’t. Though there’s some possibility, at least. Plenty of people have tried.”
Hae-yoon rose and rifled through his works.
He retrieved one piece from a corner.
It was a work using both ink and watercolor.
“……The ink….”
In Korean painting, there exists what you might call the diffusion of ink.
But the ink layered onto Western-style watercolor paper didn’t spread properly.
As a result, it felt somewhat crude.
Of course, expressing it crudely like folk art felt natural enough, but….
“Eastern and Western materials each have their own composition and methods. I tried pouring all sorts of glue and acrylic to bind them together.”
It must not have been easy.
He was no chemist, but to adjust the ratios and components of all these materials to find a way for different things to mix without repelling each other.
It must have demanded tremendous time and effort.
“So you never found a way to properly combine them….”
Ye-ji grew somewhat downcast.
She believed that with proper inspiration and technique, she could create a work fusing East and West.
Moreover, receiving guidance from such a brilliant painter as Hae-yoon meant it had to be possible.
But there was an unexpected obstacle.
Material properties. A limitation she hadn’t imagined.
Seeing Ye-ji examine the paintings with such dejection, Hae-yoon brought out another work.
Unlike the others left carelessly about, this one was preserved in a proper glass frame.
…….
The moment Ye-ji saw that work, she lost her words.
Just like what Ye-ji had painted, it featured plum blossoms rendered in oil on branches rendered in ink.
Needless to say, its execution was far superior, but what mattered was the piece’s preservation quality.
It was oil paint layered onto treated Hanji that held a very faint sheen.
In other words, Hae-yoon had discovered a way to layer and blend Eastern and Western materials together!
“I’m not giving this away for free.”
Hae-yoon added this seeing Ye-ji’s expression light up with excitement.
“Bring me something. On the condition that this is possible. Show me what you plan to paint.”
Hae-yoon spoke firmly, but Ye-ji understood what he meant.
This was a proposal to teach her what he had researched over years, perhaps decades.
“Bring me something that astonishes me first.”
***
“Mom.”
In Paris, France, at a café in front of the Eiffel Tower.
Da-hye asked her parents a sudden question while chewing croissant.
“Do you think… I can keep painting?”
Da-hye was traveling through France with her parents during vacation.
Of course, she had continued exchanging messages with Ye-ji and Hyun-min throughout.
In particular, Da-hye knew that Ye-ji was participating in a competition at a gallery in France.
So she’d visited Montblanc Gallery, the organizer of that competition, only to have her spirits completely crushed.
“Why? You wanted to see it for yourself.”
“I mean, there are just too many geniuses in the world…….”
Of course, Montblanc Gallery wasn’t the finest in the world.
A gallery where living artists with at least some reputation in their work gathered together.
A realistic dream stage worth aiming for.
“You’re still a high school student. The people there have spent decades just painting.”
Her father tried to comfort her, but Da-hye simply draped herself across the table.
“That painting displayed in the hall.”
“K…Katrin? That artist’s work?”
“Yeah…. It feels similar to what Ye-ji paints.”
At her own words, Da-hye sighed even more heavily.
In her heart, she actually felt it was superior in some ways.
She felt petty for only mentioning that it was similar, out of some misplaced pride.
But she knew the truth.
Everyone differs by just a hair’s breadth. In an age of parodies and homages.
There were still people who expressed things more brilliantly in their own way.
And in Da-hye’s eyes, Ye-ji was such a person.
Her parents hastily added words to cheer up their gloomy daughter.
“But yours has a completely different feeling. More geometric and….”
“Right! Sarah Morris! Yeah, you said you liked her style of painting.”
You can’t compare someone who’s good at jazz to someone who plays classical.
The things her parents said to comfort their anxious daughter were obvious.
But still, Da-hye felt a little better.
‘Your lines are really clean.’
‘Did you deliberately adjust the proportions for this?’
‘You’re really good at calculations.’
‘Try doing something like this for the Annual Art Competition.’
In fact, Da-hye hadn’t always loved paintings of that sort.
Last semester, when Ye-ji suddenly began to shine.
It was when Ye-ji saw Da-hye drawing steady lines to establish proportions and taught her about it.
Until then, she didn’t even know she had talent in that way.
But Ye-ji had noticed Da-hye’s strengths by watching her paint.
While everyone acted as if Ye-ji had suddenly become some overnight genius, Da-hye knew the truth.
Ye-ji was truly obsessed with painting.
She thought of nothing else, and struggled daily against vague walls.
For such a girl to suddenly breakthrough and grow enough to give her advice.
That was the reason Da-hye had to acknowledge her even while envying her.
Because Da-hye herself had never tried so hard.
Rather, Ye-ji had awakened in her the reason to try harder.
“Actually, abstract paintings like that sell better and are more popular, right?”
“They’re good for interior decoration too! There’s one hanging in our hospital lobby, isn’t there?”
Da-hye smiled slightly watching her parents try so hard to comfort her.
“I know! Okay, then in that spirit, let’s visit five more museums today and then head back!”
Da-hye stuffed the bread she’d been eating into her mouth and stood up.
That wasn’t quite what they’d had in mind….
Her parents exchanged uncertain looks, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
***
Ye-ji smiled as she confirmed the photo Da-hye had sent.
The playful pose and photo taken in front of the Eiffel Tower brought a strange nostalgia and peculiar emotion.
The reason Hae-yoon hadn’t conducted proper worldwide artistic activity even after discovering how to fuse Eastern and Western materials.
In Ye-ji’s thinking, it was because his understanding of Western painting was shallow.
‘But I’m different.’
France. One of the centers of Western art. That was her homeland in her previous life.
Ye-ji was very familiar with Western sensibility and perspective.
‘Besides, I’ve lived as a South Korean person for over sixteen years now.’
She understood Eastern sensibility quite well too.
Ye-ji turned over Hae-yoon’s words from earlier in her mind.
‘Bring me something that astonishes me first.’
Ye-ji was certain that she possessed the qualifications to fuse those two things most properly.
Just like that, Ye-ji opened her Drawing Book and began pouring out the countless images swirling in her head.
Even a mere sketch—craftsmen discern the feeling from just a few simple lines.
Ye-ji spent all night laying out sketches like that.
And the next day.
“Ye-ji, you’ve….”
“Hello! Good morning!”
Today too, Ye-ji rushed past the man clearing snow and quickly entered the Korean Traditional House.
And today too, she set down her sketches before Hae-yoon, who was still working with a large brush in hand.
“I brought them!”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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