Almighty painter

Chapter 1001 The Battle for Life

Williams was unsure whether Gu Weijing, when he was initially creating this painting, had his ears ringing day and night with the vibrations of piano strings resonating in the maple wood's resonating chamber, much like a mental patient.

He stood in front of the artwork.

Such a sound... such noise, uncontrollably poured into the eardrums on both sides of the violinist's face—

That is the devilish sound woven by Paganini.

The artwork contains a multitude of fragmented elements, with various color blocks mixed together, colliding and blending with each other. The brushstrokes are repeated over and over again, and the same elements appear again and again in the translucent starlight.

Such repetition has a distinct musical quality.

Like a bow drawing delicate, staccato notes on a string, a musical phrase is constantly changing, each variation building upon the previous one.

Williams was furious.

His anger was like suddenly finding himself in a bullring, and he was even angrier than the bull in front of him.

This work, titled "Night Rhapsody," is the red cloak that floated before Williams' eyes.

How dare he?
How could Gu Weijing provoke him like that?

Williams puffed out his cheeks, indulging in this neurotic-like fantasy.

Williams didn't care about the other works in the exhibition. Oh, maybe they were profound enough, full of complex meanings, or maybe they were just a big pile of dog shit.

But it doesn't matter.

Whether Picasso were alive or there was dog poop everywhere, to Williams, those works were no different in essence from the other ten million works in the world. Only this one work—William recognized it the moment he saw it.

It is so unique.

This is not a painting.

It's a piece of Paganini music played on nebulae, a restless bull. When you walk into an art museum and see a bull tap dancing, wouldn't you be drawn in?

This is a battle between bullfighters and matadors.

In the material world, Williams stands still, looking as if he could be blown over by a gust of wind at any moment.

In the realm of the mind, the bullfighter Williams, composed of consciousness, with red eyes, also roared and charged towards the painting.

He was going to fight the painting, he was going to fight himself.

then.

He was knocked to the ground by the painting.

When Mr. Williams opened his eyes again, he was lying on the ground in a daze when he found a black and white Dutch cow standing on his belly, trampling wildly and mooing a tune of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star".

"Security, this artwork is hitting someone!"
-

For several months.

Gu Weijing has been searching for a work that is special enough, a work that can illuminate the entire exhibition like Van Gogh's "Sunflowers," injecting special vitality into the exhibition.

finally.

Gu Weijing selected this painting, "Night Rhapsody".

Back on that deserted island, Gu Weijing and Miss Elena had discussed a painting depicting the starry night. A year earlier, at the beginning of preparations for his solo exhibition, Gu Weijing had produced a similar work. He hoped to pay homage to the great Van Gogh with it.

That painting is a size 30 oil painting.

It is one meter long and seventy-three centimeters high, with distorted starlight clustered into a nebula in the sky.

The young artist felt the painting wasn't good enough and hadn't achieved the effect he envisioned; he lacked the emotional drive characteristic of Vincent van Gogh.

No matter how beautiful a car is, without an engine to drive it, it can only be a model displayed in a collector's room.

just now.

After a long period of deliberation.

Gu Weijing had already made plans to install the engine into the engine compartment. This was a huge project, and he had to complete it within ten hours.

This means that Gu Weijing's understanding of the work must reach the same level of ease and fluency as Mr. Yang, Yang Dekang, and Teacher Yang's understanding of the selection of various maintenance and lubrication oil grades for Porsche sports cars.

Having prepared everything needed, Gu Weijing finally activated the skill panel.

First and foremost, there's the musicality.

Good paintings often have a musical quality; they should be both clear in theme and rich in layers.

This was not difficult for Gu Weijing.

The "Level 8" oil painting technique is so advanced that even the most complex brushstrokes in the world can be drawn as simply as drawing a round egg on paper.

Gu Weijing has begun to approach the true pinnacle of a painting technique.

He could dream of Van Gogh in his own brushstrokes.

Maybe.

This is a true pinnacle that even Van Gogh himself, who was not known for his painting techniques, never reached. Every brushstroke is as if it has been washed with the cleanest river water, as clear as the transparent ice on a mountaintop.

Gu Weijing hesitated for a moment.

Maybe.

This is still not the highest level of brushwork.

Beyond musicality, it should also possess a sense of self.

Good music is full of elasticity, the vibrato of the orchestra, the composer's murmur, the notes echoing and colliding in the air, being absorbed by the walls, and diffusing in the air.

Good music possesses a mathematical beauty.

Ultimately, it cannot be as straightforward as solving a quadratic equation.

The same principle applies to painting.

The so-called ultimate realm of "beauty" does not exist. There is no perfect egg in the world, only the perfect egg in Leonardo da Vinci's heart. Coincidentally, Impressionism is a style that emphasizes "roughness," and Van Gogh was a painter with a "rough" painting style.

This roughness is precisely where Van Gogh's own soul resided.

It was his desire.

It was his life, which was never spotless.

Van Gogh was expelled from the church precisely because he was not "smooth" enough. This roughness, his perspective errors, his distorted proportions, when considered and examined from the right angle, actually possess a powerful and moving quality.

It's hard to imagine that Van Gogh would paint Turner or Menzel.

Gu Weijing already has a crystal.

He began to try to drip himself into the crystal.

His sensitivity, his vulnerability, his self-doubt, his determination, his persistence, his confidence and composure.

This should be a painting of starry sky reflected in water ripples.

It is also a painting of Gu Weijing's own life reflected in a flawless Lv.8 crystal.

There are many kinds of amber in the world. Some amber contains insect eggs that are a million years old, while others contain flowers and leaves that bloomed in a certain spring.

This small piece of amber in front of me contains Gu Weijing's complete artistic heart.

When Gu Weijing was painting this picture.

He couldn't help but recall the warm feeling he had when he played the violin for the big cow in the yard.
— Over the past few months, Anna Elena has begun to return to a normal routine.

She resumed her inquiries about the art exhibition. However, she had no direct communication with Gu Weijing; all matters were handled solely through the Ma Shi Gallery.

As it should be.

A person who has jumped into the water will not swim back to the river.

Both rationally and emotionally, since Miss Elena has said "I sentence you to death," regardless of who in this cooperative relationship she is sentencing, Anna will not turn back so easily.

Pain is the touchstone for greatness, and that's her word; she must accept it.

"A good work should have a sense of rhythm"—while Gu Weijing was painting in his studio, Anna Irene was sitting in front of her laptop, writing an email to an art critic—"The magnificent and moving techniques need no further mention, but the exploration of one's own passion for life is equally touching. We must remember that when Vincent van Gogh was 27 years old and decided to become an artist... he wasn't even an amateur painter."

"He had no teacher, no art studio."

"Besides a passionate heart, I believe this exhibition also has that potential. It looks like an exhibition of landscape paintings, but it's definitely not just about painting landscapes."

……

With the art exhibition approaching, Anna had a lot of media work to do. She wasn't quite sure how to deal with the challenges Sarah was bound to face, especially considering how much time she had seemingly been busy but had actually wasted doing nothing.

Miss Elena resumed her previous work.

She was writing an email inviting this important art critic to visit Gu Weijing's exhibition.

"Time" is the theme of this exhibition.

Anna wrote: "It is also the eternal theme of all art exhibitions. A certain exhibition, a certain work, is like a piece of amber in time, which condenses a person, a silhouette of a moment."

……

In this moment, in this silhouette.

Gu Weijing is painting.

Anna Elena is the curator.

In the empty pasture, Awang and August were happily eating together.

Everyone has a bright future.
-

After leaving the Louvre Abu Dhabi, Williams took off his violin case from his back in the square.

Ever since my lifetime.

Aside from those hazy memories of his childhood, Williams could hardly recall a time when he hadn't touched a violin for so long. Even so, even though practicing the violin caused him a physiological allergic reaction, he had kept his violin with him these past few days.

He carried his violin when he wandered aimlessly around campus, and he carried his violin when he argued with his agent. Williams carried his violin when he flew to Abu Dhabi.

even……

Today, while visiting Gu Weijing's solo art exhibition, Williams strangely brought his violin, causing the security guard to nervously check his long violin case several times.

The security guard asked him what was inside.

Musical instruments.

Williams said, and then he added.

Salt.

Too much salt makes it unbearably salty, but without salt, life seems to lose its flavor.

more specifically.

It's like wine.

For alcoholics, alcohol is everything, the source of all their joy and all their suffering. Like the salt water of a desperate person.

The thirstier you are, the more you drink.

The more I drink, the thirstier I become.

Williams was in a state of panic. Whenever he picked up his violin, he would become uncontrollably agitated and frantically want to shoot himself in the head.

The psychologist said he was too tired and probably needed to take a good vacation, leave his familiar environment, and rest for a while.

Vacation?

Williams knew that without the violin, he might actually have shot himself in the head.

He can no longer live without her.

The violin was the source of all Williams' pride. With the instrument, he was the best violinist in the world, the greatest in the world. He could use the violin to gain wealth and honor for himself. He could be surrounded by people like a star, eating grilled octopus and cursing Gu Weijing as a piece of dog shit.

The violin is gone.

Williams or something else?
He's nothing, he's just a pile of dog shit. Williams needs this violin, just as a down-on-his-luck swordsman still carries his sword with him—it's merely a form of spiritual comfort.

Can a person find peace after being beaten up by a big cow?
Williams didn't know.

But after a moment of emotional release, Williams calmed down.

He knelt on one knee, opened the violin case, and watched the violin's soundboard reflect a honey-like hue in the sunlight.

Williams placed his hand on the neck of the violin.

"Perhaps... I am indeed inferior to Gu Weijing in some ways?"

Williams thought to himself.

That pure, artistic power flowing through him, making him feel like a vibrant bull, was something he had experienced before, hadn't he?
Williams doesn't understand painting.

Williams didn't need to understand painting; beyond all technical analysis, he still managed to capture Gu Weijing's passion for painting in his works.

That is the strong ox hidden in the other person's work.

Williams played the violin for so long, performing piece after piece for the judges of the Masters Program at the resort. What was he playing? For the past few months, he has always carried his violin case with him. What was he carrying with him?

It's probably... just a possibility.

The possibility of a desire for wealth and honor replaced Williams' pure love for art.

That was the alcohol he couldn't live without.

therefore.

He was so easily defeated by Miss Elena.

Paganini was like that too... He was a genius when he was young, but also a playboy, a complete gambler, drunk, womanizing, had a lot of mistresses, and gambled wildly in casinos.

He thought he could gamble his way to becoming a billionaire.

result.

After going all in, he even lost his own violin.

until one day.

He finally realized how much of his life he had wasted and how many truly precious things he had missed. Paganini began to ponder what he was playing for.

From now on.

Paganini quit gambling for life and eventually became the greatest violinist in history.

Williams rested the violin on his shoulder, bowed slightly, and began to tune it.

(End of this chapter)