Almighty painter

Chapter 1048 War?
(Second update, 10000 words)
"The teacher of Whiplash was a jerk, and the students in Whiplash are probably jerks too. They're crazy, weirdos, narcissists, super self-centered, selfish, and ruthless..."

"It's hard to say whether the two people have more respect or more hatred for each other."

"The teacher was fired from school for using violence against students. He ran into a student in the restaurant, walked over, greeted him warmly, and asked how his practice was going."

Gu Weijing asked.

Was he thinking, "Oh, my good student, how have you been lately?"

Professor Kozens smiled.

“Of course not.” Gu Weijing shook his head. “What he was thinking was, ‘You little brat, I’ve finally caught you. Believe me, I have a hundred ways to torture you to death.’”

"He planned a big show, a performance at Lincoln Center, and told the wrong band to play the wrong setlist. When the performance started, the band began playing pieces that the lead actor had never played before, and the lead actor would look like a clueless rookie in front of the nation's top critics."

"The teacher would rather ruin his own performance than let his student down completely and destroy their career. This is his revenge."

"Some people say that the teacher is deliberately putting pressure on the student to force him to perform at his peak. What do you think?"

Kozens gave a mocking laugh.

"Yeah, anyway, I don't think he thinks that way. Not every artist is necessarily a good person; he's essentially a big jerk."

Gu Weijing sighed.

"But I really think it's a good movie. I can't describe how much I love it. Even though it's a somewhat morbid movie."

"A jerk teacher meets a jerk student."

"But they are all good artists."

"In the final scene, in the last hundred seconds of this several-hour movie, the two reconciled. There was no other reason, no melodramatic plot, no dramatic twists and turns, nothing at all."

"Only the sound of drums."

"This is a dialogue between artists."

"The teacher wanted to ruin the student, to make it impossible for the student to survive in this industry. The student stood up, threw off his coat, sat back down, and ignored the teacher's signals and the piece he was supposed to play, and started playing the drums he knew best."

"Bang bang bang! Bang bang bang!"

Gu Weijing tapped the rim of the glass with the index fingers of his left and right hands.

"Bang bang bang! Bang bang bang!"

"Then, in the midst of the chaos of the performance, they made up. The teacher who had been threatening to gouge out the other person's eyes just seconds before rushed over and helped the student steady the drumhead that he was hitting off-center. He told him not to be nervous and to keep his rhythm."

"In an instant."

"He went from being the worst teacher in the world to the most loving teacher in the world."

"He gave up everything simply because he was moved by the students' drumming, and because at that moment he saw what was truly great drumming skills."

Gu Weijing looked at Mr. Kezhensi.

He picked up a whiskey glass and handed it to the other person.

"Therefore, I have always respected you."

"Whiplash tells us a story that distinguishes an artist from a bad one. It's not about whether you're a good person or a kind and gentle gentleman. It's about whether you can be moved by a true work of art. You can be a complete jerk, but you can still be a great artist."

"But what if a jerk artist can't be moved by good art—"

"Does that mean all that's left is a bastard?"

Gu Weijing asked softly.

“Samuel Kertzens, you have the names of two famous watercolor painters. This name sounds like a good watercolor teacher. How can you not be an artist?”

Samuel Prout was a famous watercolor painter in history.

John Robert Curtzens was the second most important watercolor painter in Britain after Turner.

Kozens stared at the wide-mouthed, thick-bottomed crystal glass in the student's hand, looking at the single malt whisky inside that smelled of fermented grains.

He watched quietly.

No one knows what this man, whom his students call a master of two watercolors, is thinking at this moment.

Time passes minute by minute.

The man ultimately did not take the whiskey glass from Gu Weijing's hand.

Gu Weijing didn't insist. He placed the glass on the windowsill and picked up another flat-bottomed glass.

Do you remember your question?

Gu Weijing said in a low voice.

"It's said that you ask every class of students the question—why tell the truth when lying can bring huge benefits?"

“You told me at the time that Wittgenstein believed that lying was a reasonable choice.”

"I later read Wittgenstein's book, and when the later Wittgenstein faced the same question he had asked himself when he was nine years old, he gave a different answer—to tell the truth. Even if lying can bring huge benefits, you should still tell the truth."

"He is a philosopher, and he answers this question through a very complex semantic logic."

"We are all painters, so perhaps we can be considered artists."

"Then let me give you my own answer."

Gu Weijing said.

"My answer is—because it's about telling the truth."

"Because whether you tell the truth or not, whether you choose the truth or the lie, life itself is real."

"Truly good works of art do not float on the river of money. Truly good works of art should be a reflection of life, a summary, condensation, and even a transcendence of life."

"If you abandon life itself, even the best works and the most exquisite brushstrokes are just like a bunch of flowery fantasies, which are essentially very boring things."

“I went to see Viktor’s works before.”

“I think my painting ‘Winter’ is very boring compared to his work. While I was in the studio for months and months and months, studying brushstrokes, light and shadow, color, composition, and the texture of watercolor paints with everyone.”

“Victor has painted a much better work than I have.”

“I want to withdraw from this art project, not for any other reason. I could choose to be a jerk, I could not care about Viktor’s situation, what does his business have to do with me? But I feel that I am completely unworthy of this award in the face of such works.”

"That's all."
-
Beauty is life.

Anything that we see in it, and that we understand should live as it should, is beautiful.

Anything that shows life or reminds us of life is beautiful.

—(Russian) Chernyshevsky
-
"Not everyone can live like a saint."

Professor Kozens's voice sounded somewhat bitter.

He gave a mocking laugh.

“Gu Weijing, for you, this may just be an insignificant art project in your life. You have already won so many awards and received so much praise. You have sold a painting for a million pounds, so of course you have the right to say this and the right to do this.”

"A person who owns an entire flower field won't pay much attention to a particular flower."

“You no longer need a particular student art project to prove your success, you don’t need to be the winner of this master program to prove that you are the best of all the students in this generation.”

"People can certainly walk away from things that are dispensable. But for ordinary people, there are many things beyond art, and beyond art itself. Life itself is full of helplessness."

Why do you have to pretend to be a saint?

"You just don't care. If it were a bigger award, would you still make the same choice? Faced with a greater temptation, you'd become just an ordinary person."

Gu Weijing shook his head.

He seemed to have been struck by Kozens's question.

The young man leaned against the windowsill, holding a glass of malt whiskey in his hands, breathing deeply.

suck.

call.

suck.

call.

"Chu—"

Kecens watched as Gu Weijing puffed out his cheeks slightly and blew a long breath into the cup in his hand, as if he wanted to turn the cold liquor in the cup into hot oat tea.

"You're right."

He heard Gu Weijing say that.

"I am not a saint."

"Of course I am not a saint. I am a person who is hesitant, conflicted, indecisive, narrow-minded, and vain. I speak of seemingly plausible truths, but in my heart I am very vain."

“But you’re also wrong, Mr. Kozens.”

“I have never stood on a moral high ground to judge you today. I fully understand your choice. What I am saying today is simply telling the truth about myself. The real me has never been a saint. For an artist, life is certainly not made up of paintings.”

"Life is depicted through painting."

"And life outside of painting."

"A life with art."

“There’s life outside of art.” “I understand you, but you don’t understand me,” Gu Weijing explained.

“Professor Kozens, you have no idea how important this Masters Project is to me. You have no idea what it means to me. I made a promise, I assured others that I would win this project.”

“I made a promise to someone! I said, please believe me, I will definitely get it, this is a solemn promise I made.”

Gu Weijing suddenly found himself unable to continue speaking.

He blew into the cup again and again, as if only in this way could he expel the tension and sorrow in his heart.

"You know what?"

“I would trade this for the biggest prize I could ever win in the future. I would trade this for an exhibition at the Louvre. I would trade a million pounds for it, plus—that painting of mine that sold for a million pounds.”

Ke Cens heard a slight sob in Gu Weijing's voice.

this moment.

The watercolor professor finally realized that he had misjudged the significance of this award, which he thought Gu Weijing didn't care much about, to Gu Weijing.

But... why?

Kozens, who was in charge of the arts-in-residence program, was confused. Was it because of Williams' declaration of war?
There's no need for that.

After the art exhibition in Abu Dhabi, Gu Weijing no longer really needed such an award to prove to anyone how good he was.

Everyone has a price.

For many collectors, a work that can sell for seven figures says it all.

It's more convincing than many awards. There are many painters who can win awards of all sizes, but few who can sell their work for this price.

Every year, major art exhibitions produce one or more award winners.

At the age of 22, a single artwork sold for over a million dollars. Such a thing is unlikely to happen again for another ten years.

But now.

Gu Weijing's eyes seemed to be red.

“If there really were a price to pay,” he sniffed, “I would take all the money I’ve earned so far and buy this award.”

"I'm not a very determined person, never have been."

Gu Weijing said.

"I have always been a very gentle person."

"A voice in my head kept telling me, 'Never mind, never mind, never mind, come here happily, have dinner tonight, and then go back happily.'"

"Let's pretend none of this ever happened."

Gu Weijing said.

"From the moment I sat in the car today, this voice has been ringing in my ears. That voice is the real me, the truest wish in my heart."

"I don't want to care about any of that nonsense. I'll just pretend I didn't hear it, pretend I don't know anything. I just want this award."

"So I've been struggling with this all day."

The painter took a deep breath.

He stared at the ceiling of the yellow hatchback parked in the corner of the yard.

"I was torn while I was driving. I turned the music up really loud, and today was the first time I drove at 140 kilometers per hour. I wanted to get there quickly so I wouldn't have to think about these things. But then I thought I might as well not get there at all. It would be nice if I had an accident like in Whiplash, or if I got hit by another car."

"The protagonist of Whiplash is covered in blood after being hit, but he still rushes to the performance venue."

"If I were hit and covered in blood, I would just go straight to the hospital and lie there. By the time I'm discharged, I'll have already won the award. It'll all be none of my business."

Gu Weijing spoke such unambitious words, yet his voice grew clearer and clearer.

It wasn't the kind of roaring, cathartic outburst.

The young man's tone sounded resilient, with a slight hoarseness and a roughness. It didn't sound like the voice of a twenty-two-year-old, but rather like that of an old fisherman in a storm outside the harbor, tightly gripping the fishing line and the struggling marlin, fighting wave after wave of sharks.

The old fisherman was Gu Weijing.

The marlin is a species of fish.

Wave after wave of sharks, their mouths wide open to reveal their gleaming white teeth, arrived one after another, just like Gu Weijing.

Unlike the "life or death" choice at the Xihe Guild Hall a few years ago—

At that time, Gu Weijing was engaged in an ultimate duel with Hao Ge, who seemed almost invincible. He looked so weak, but he was single-minded.

All he needs to do is throw a punch with unwavering determination.

One punch.

One punch.

Another punch.

With the theme song of Rocky playing in my ears, and the "Eye of Tiger" playing, I felt like one of those heroic protagonists in the boxing ring who would eventually turn the tide and win.

One punch.

One punch.

Another punch.

Like the protagonists in all superhero movies, he will eventually get everything he wants.

The light of destiny will eventually shine upon him, making his sweat appear like gold dust, like that of the Buddha.

The opponent's punches were like a surging tide.

Gu Weijing looked up at the sky and laughed loudly, "My nature has become empty."

Four years later.

Gu Weijing once again stood on the stage of fate, but this time he did not laugh triumphantly.

This time.

Gu Weijing cried.

He already had several gold belts from the "Million Pound Club" hanging around his waist. He was the boxing champion, the strongest and most powerful figure in the boxing ring.

No one was his match; no one could last a single round against Gu Weijing.

Four years have passed.

He has become incredibly powerful. He no longer needs the collapse of his opponents to stand to the end by sheer luck. He doesn't need any element of luck to win this match.

All Gu Weijing needed to do was throw a punch.

He can throw a punch at will, and the force of the blow is enough to knock his opponent down.

Even Samuel Cotzens was no match for Gu Weijing. Perhaps Cotzens was also very strong, but Mr. Cotzens was never an enemy that Gu Weijing needed to face to achieve victory.

He is the referee.

Moreover, the referee was on Gu Weijing's side.

From beginning to end, Ke Cens was on Gu Weijing's side.

As a boxing champion with impeccable muscles and impeccable technique, even the referee is on your side.

How should you lose?
You want to lose, but you don't even know how to lose.

But you cried.

After the gong sounded, Gu Weijing, a millionaire and world boxing champion, was actually beaten to tears in his title defense match.

How embarrassing!

How helpless we are.

You open your eyes and look at this fierce opponent who throws left hooks and right punches at you. This opponent knows your every move and every punch, and observes all your weaknesses, vulnerabilities, pain and suffering with perfect clarity.

You discovered—

The opponent is crying too.

Your opponent has the exact same face as you.

In his final year of college, Gu Weijing, who had just created a miracle in the boxing ring, defeating Williams, the magazine "Oil Painting," and all the critics who disliked him, and winning a tsunami of cheers and applause from the audience, looked around.

He suddenly realized.

This battle.

The opponent turned out to be himself.

Gu Weijing thought the answers would be "Gu Weijing VS Williams", "Gu Weijing VS Oil Painting Magazine", and "Twenty-year-old boxer Gu Weijing VS 90-year-old fighting grandma Sarah".

who knows.

The answer is revealed.

The gong sounded, and the answer was revealed to be "Gu Weijing VS Gu Weijing".

(End of this chapter)