Almighty painter

Chapter 1046 Faust's Gift (Part 1)

(First update)
"The lips once knew."

"The lips know."

"The lips remain silent until the end."

—Paul Celan, "The Upturned Lips"
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“During my formative years, I always had a nagging feeling that European painters were technically superior and more creative in oil painting, watercolor, Impressionism, and many other fields. Menzel, Dürer, Turner, Leonardo da Vinci, Titian, Monet, Renoir… Picasso…”

in the room.

The young painter and his teacher were talking quietly.

"So many masters."

“These names have accompanied me throughout my childhood. When you open an art book, the names of those French masters make up a large part of art history. Like many painters in history, I also have a dream about Paris.”

Anna has actually been a little unhappy about this.

"Vienna! Vienna! Vienna!"

Gu Weijing tapped the dinner table with his fingers, reciting a word of Vienna with each tap, making the same emphasizing sound as a pointer tapping the blackboard in class.

He couldn't help but laugh, "This must be a unique kind of dissatisfaction that old Viennese people have with old Parisians."

Gu Weijing.

Still thinking about your crappy Paris? Notre Dame Cathedral is on fire!

Let's turn our attention to Vienna!
"Anna never told me explicitly, but she took me to Vienna for the New Year's Concert, to Heroes' Square to see those enormous and magnificent sculptures, to stroll along the Ringstrait, to visit the cafes where philosophers used to gather, to dine at the table where Freud supposedly wrote his psychoanalysis, and finally to Klimt's exhibition. Then she asked me how I felt..."

"Does Paris have these? I guess that's what she actually meant."

"Paris is merely the capital of a kingdom, while Vienna is the true heart of an empire! Geographically, Vienna is also much closer to the center of Europe than Paris."

"Perhaps it's because of the names I read in books, but I still prefer Paris."

Gu Weijing said, "Perhaps Vienna is too tranquil and beautiful. I feel that Paris, which is a little chaotic, is more vibrant and full of life. When I walk along the river and stand on the bridge watching the sunset sink into the shimmering water, I can almost imagine what Manet and Monet looked like when they were gazing at the sunset from the bridge."

"Time can be reversed, and the old days can be relived."

Samuel Kertzens didn't understand why Gu Weijing, who had just been talking about Faust, would suddenly bring up these other things.

The irritable watercolor professor did not interrupt the student.

He listened quietly from the side, and then lit another cigarette with a lighter.

"That's Paris. The one, the only one in all of Europe. The French food is also delicious. At least in terms of the richness of its cuisine and its history, Vienna really can't compare to Paris."

"If you feel that Paris is too noisy, suitable for studying but not for living, then go to the South of France. Provence? Picasso probably thought so too, which is why he later went to live in the South of France."

“Studying in Paris, living in the South of France, being a ‘colleague’ of Picasso. When the flowering season comes, every time I open the window, the hillsides in front of me are covered with small purple flowers. This is one of the most beautiful dreams I had for the future when I was a child.”

Gu Weijing also stood up from the table.

I walked over to Mr. Kozens and we looked out the window at the night view together.

“He dreamed of being Picasso since he was a child; that’s quite ambitious,” Kozens said.

"That's not true."

“At that time, I never thought I could make a living by painting, let alone make a lot of money by painting. People usually have to have a more realistic consideration before they find their destiny. At that time, I was thinking about studying hard and seeing if I could find a teaching position in a school in the south of France.”

Gu Weijing said.

“Then you could be considered my colleague,” the professor said.

"I suppose Victor thinks so too. I know one of his biggest ambitions in life is to become a tenured professor at the art academy."

Gu Weijing added.

The professor fell silent.

“You see, I grew up in that kind of environment. It’s like the culinary industry jokingly says that Michelin stars look down on all cuisines other than French cuisine, and all restaurants other than French cuisine. I really easily feel that European art is high art, and art from other places is low art. Watercolor is high art, but oil painting is even higher than watercolor.”

"Oh."

Professor Kozens let out a heart-wrenching groan, almost unable to breathe.

"damn it!"

He muttered a large puff of smoke and cursed with an extremely vicious word.

"I'm warning you, kid!"

The watercolor professor said sternly, "Don't let me hear you say that again, or get out of here."

"before."

Gu Weijing took a step back.

He spread his hands.

I was referring to the past.

“I know many people think this way, partly because of the development of art history. For a long time, watercolor painting was regarded as a branch and subordinate to drawing. And, more importantly, there is the price factor. A famous oil painting can sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars. But a famous watercolor painting usually only sells for a fraction of that price, or even a tenth.”

"Hundreds of thousands of dollars, tens of thousands of dollars."

"The more expensive one is naturally the more advanced one, isn't that right? Anna's great-great-grandfather was much more extreme than me. When he founded the magazine, he named it 'Oil Painting' because he not only looked down on watercolor, but also on gouache, printmaking... He looked down on all art forms except 'Oil Painting'."

"The Elena family has always collected only oil paintings. Even the magazine they founded was named 'Oil Painting' in order to distinguish truly high art from vulgar art. Until the day he died, the Count of Monte Cristo believed that watercolors were the scribbles of children and immature artists, and that their artistic content was no different from that of pissing on mud."

"Really?" Kozens raised one eyelid.

"real."

Gu Weijing nodded. "This is what Anna Elena told me."

"damn it!"

Professor Kozens said.

He almost chewed the cigarette butt in his mouth.

“I’m going to cancel my subscription to Oil Painting right now,” he muttered under his breath.

“There’s no need for that,” Gu Weijing said. “Modern ‘Oil Painting’ magazine certainly wouldn’t be like that. I’ve heard that the current art director, Ms. Sarah, actually quite likes watercolor painting.”

"look."

"Mr. Kozens."

Gu Weijing said, "You consider it an insult that the watercolor you've devoted your life to is an art form inferior to oil painting. Yet, subconsciously, you believe that watercolor is a higher art form than... to give you a random example, perhaps even higher than the wall painting in Zimbabwe, even though the latter also embodies an artist's life's work?"

Kozens hesitated before opening his mouth.

"Or--"

Gu Weijing said, "Compared to those, watercolor painting is actually a more correct method of painting?"

Kozens shut his mouth again.

"I didn't think so."

After a moment, Kozens said.

"Because it's so damn politically incorrect, right?" Gu Weijing said. "More advanced... I could accept the term 'more advanced,' which might refer to things like the precision of the perspective, the shift in focus, and the room for sophistry. But more correct? That sounds incredibly racist."

"There are no excuses for not doing this."

Even in a private conversation between two people, you feel that these words are really too much.

Gu Weijing's tone was low.

Like Faust, the devil who sees through people's hearts, constantly tempting their souls towards depravity during conversation. "After all, Professor Kozens, you don't want to end up in some artist Gu Weijing's memoir, with a note written in his little notebook—"

"After dinner."

“Professor Samuel Kertzens came to me and told me that watercolor was more correct than those African art forms.”

Ke Cens realized that Gu Weijing was joking.

and so.

He smiled.

Gu Weijing smiled as well.

"Don't worry, if that artist Gu Weijing's memoir really exists, this conversation won't be in it. And even if this conversation does happen, you won't be the main character in it."

"I will be the vulgar and terrible protagonist."

"For a conversation to be fruitful, someone always has to be more honest. Let me be the more honest one—that's how it should be written in the memoir."

"After that dinner."

“Artist Gu Weijing found Mr. Samuel Kertzens and told him that watercolor was a more correct way to paint than those African art forms.”

"I don't know what you're thinking."

"But I know that in the past, deep down in my heart, in places I myself am unwilling to admit, this is actually what I thought."

"Have you heard my podcast with Mr. Sloth? I was talking about how great and wonderful the previous collector was, but in my heart I was thinking that everyone who couldn't make a Porsche from this painting was a complete idiot."

Gu Weijing leaned out of the window, hiding his face in the darkness.

From here, one can faintly hear the soft laughter emanating from Lily's throat as she plays with Mr. Kozens' daughter. The sound isn't far away, but compared to the blood-soaked conversation in the bedroom, it seems as if it's separated by an entire world.

Perhaps because Gu Weijing had remained silent for so long, he no longer knew how to say those words.

Perhaps because those words were so offensive.

Gu Weijing didn't want Professor Kezens to look down on him.

Or perhaps it was because these words were so offensive that, once spoken aloud, even Gu Weijing himself began to despise himself.

The feeling of staring directly at hypocrisy would destroy all the dignity and pride he had cultivated.

Therefore, Gu Weijing's voice was very soft.

He seemed to be talking to Mr. Kozens beside him, or perhaps he was telling the night before him his most secret thoughts.

"This is me."

"That hypocrite, saying one thing and meaning another."

"But this is also the most authentic me, the completely authentic me, the one whose heart is filled with such prejudice."
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"God, how many respectable people have I treated with such a superficial and disrespectful attitude? How many wrong things have I done?"

—From *The Power of Art: Gu Weijing and Anna Elena: From the Heart to the End*, Chapter 4, Section 7
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"Why can an Impressionist painting sell for $1 million, $1000 million, or even $100 million? A great European painter can casually paint two graffiti murals on a hotel wall, causing the entire hotel's real estate to appreciate dramatically. Hundreds of millions of people come to the Louvre just to see the legendary Mona Lisa, considered the greatest painting in history. But I have never heard of anyone I know who would make a special trip to Zimbabwe just to see the distinctive murals of Ndebelezu."

"Or, according to legend, Leonardo da Vinci's first painting was on a shield. I can't even imagine how valuable that shield would be if it had been successfully preserved to this day. 10 million? 1 billion?"

"But I also rarely see Ethiopian shield paintings selling for more than $1000."

“If everything really does have a price tag, then it seems we have to admit that oil painting is superior to watercolor, and watercolor is superior to other paintings. There is a huge chain of art contempt woven by money. Some works can sell for a price and win awards, while some works cannot sell for a price and cannot win awards. Therefore, the former is superior to the latter.”

Gu Weijing said.

“In my generation, no art critic would ever say such a thing again. Everyone knew it was wrong. People would laugh at you if you said it.”

"But you can't choose to ignore the elephant in the room."

"This giant chain still binds me, in school, in the classroom, when we talk with longing about which painter's work sold for an astonishing price at that auction. We seem to be constantly accepting this truth."

Gu Weijing brought up a matter.

“I often get asked a question by reporters: Mr. Gu, I’ve noticed that your works, from Singapore to Abu Dhabi, often contain elements of Impressionism.”

“I said, yes. When I was very young, shortly after I first came into contact with the art of painting, Impressionism moved me with its unique brushstrokes, dynamic style and rich emotional content. Impressionism is one of the schools of painting that has profoundly influenced my entire painting style.”

"That sounds exactly like a formulaic response to a reporter, doesn't it?"

Gu Weijing inquired.

"It's alright," Kozens said dismissively. "The Impressionism is not bad, but the brushstrokes aren't particularly unique, because many of the stylistic elements that Impressionism wanted to express were already expressed in William Turner's watercolors!"

The painter shook his head kindly at his teacher, who had an obsessive love for watercolor.

"Whatever."

"In any case, this sounds like a press release written for me by the Hermès Gallery, but it really comes from my heart. Every time I say something like this, I do so with great confidence. I think this is the truth. I was moved by Impressionism, and I embraced it."

"Today."

“I should ask myself this: what was it that initially moved me when I embarked on the path of Impressionism? Was it because it was a beautiful style of painting, or because it was a style of painting that had been tested by the market and achieved unprecedented success in the industry?”

“One afternoon at the ranch, a few weeks after we had just returned from Paris, I had finished an Impressionist painting and Anna was reading to me Ms. K.’s letters and diary.”

“I can remember the words in those letters very clearly.”

Gu Weijing read it slowly in German.

"At dusk in Paris, my friends and I saw fiery red rays swirling above the Arc de Triomphe, and my dreams floated above them... A brand new path of art slowly unfolded before my eyes. In the burning sky, I saw a dreamlike river of color that could stretch infinitely. I felt that this would be my destiny."

"An infinitely extending river of dreamlike colors."

Gu Weijing read it softly.

The young man repeated this sentence over and over again.

"Ms. K. saw an endless river of dreamlike colors, so she decided to give up her wealth, status, and fame, and her past frivolous and dissolute life. She decided to embark on the path of Impressionism."

"So what did I see?"

"Did I see wealth, status, and fame in the brushstrokes of the Impressionists, which resemble an infinitely extending river of dreamlike colors? At that moment, it planted a seed in my heart, which is why I decided to make Impressionism one of the painting styles I wanted to pursue."

Gu Weijing seemed to see Miss Elena's chestnut eyes in the darkness of Hamburg.

"42?"

The young man said softly to himself.

Do you remember?

"The number 42 itself has no meaning, even if it is the ultimate number of the universe."

It's not just the answer that matters.

The problem is also important.

It's not just the results that matter.

The process is also important.

If we don't figure out the answers to these questions, even if Gu Weijing is painting Impressionist works, it's pointless.

Even though Gu Weijing went to Paris, the city he had always dreamed of.

Even if Gu Weijing saw the same fiery sunset that Carole had once seen, even if he, like Manet or Monet, stood on the beautiful pedestrian bridge next to the Louvre, watching the fiery sun sink into the shimmering Seine from the west.

Even though Gu Weijing copied those drawings from beginning to end again and again.

They would never draw the same thing.

(End of this chapter)