Almighty painter

Chapter 676: So That's How It Is and Why It Is So

Moonlight looks pale white, but in terms of color, its color temperature is higher than that of sunlight.

and so.

Looking from the lakeside, the girl who had just walked out of the lake had fair skin that glowed softly.

As her brows changed and her cheeks tilted slightly, the moonlight moved across her face and neck, as if rippling on water waves.

When she looked at the painting in her hand with a proud smile.

The ripples on her face, like the ripples created by her toes touching the lake water, spread out together.

[Title of the work: "Koko in the Moonlight"]

[Sketch Technique: Level 6 Professional Level 6721 (50000/)]

[Emotion: Hard work (perfection)]

When a person paints on paper with a brush in his hand, it is different from an inkjet printer, where the color and "brushwork" level is highly uniform and even from beginning to end, without any style changes.

The painter's mood and painting state are different, and the emotions and techniques expressed under the brush will be very different.

You can understand it this way.

When a painter paints with a brush, his "painting skills" level will be a curve that fluctuates up and down during the creation period. However, for some painters whose painting skills are in the mature stage, the fluctuation of their painting skills curve is small, and the overall transition is smooth. For some painters who follow the "inspiration and passion" flow, their peaks and troughs may be like mountains and valleys, which are a world apart.

The most typical representative here is Picasso. Some of Picasso's works are undoubtedly at the level of a master, while some of his works...maybe just like a child's graffiti.

In a bad way.

Compared to this printer, unless the nozzle is clogged or out of ink, the last stroke will be the same as the first stroke printed.

The works painted by hand by painters lack the kind of eternal stability.

On the bright side.

Hand-painted works, at least at this stage, still have a kind of agility that no machine can imitate.

If it is too stable, the work will become a sculpture, a puppet, or a solid stone.

It is this kind of change in the light and dark of the hand-painted paintings, this kind of imbalance, incompleteness, and instability in the gap, that leaves room for emotions and thoughts to flow, and room for the soul to exist.

It turns them from stone into Monkey King, from puppets into Pinocchio, and from sculptures into fairy tale princesses.

They came back to life from then on.

So-called art resides in these gaps.

When the system panel evaluates the technical level of a painting, it will generally take the middle value of the creator's ability to express with brush and ink during the entire painting process.

such as.

After Gu Weijing completed the last layer of glazing on the Museum Island painting for Wattl, a sketching teacher at Fitz International School, it was evaluated on the panel for its technical level. It was neither Wattl's own Lv.4 professional level 9, nor Menzel's Lv. master level , which was close to perfection.

Instead, it takes a relatively middle value between these two phases, Lv.7 Master Level .

This is the painting technique.

The same is true for the emotional expression in the work.

The emotional evaluation of this sketch reached the level of painstaking perfection, and it is the highest evaluation Gu Weijing has received on the system panel among all his drawings so far.

none of them.

however.

Working hard (perfection) was still not Gu Weijing's limit. He could infer this from the unprecedented feeling he had while painting, and the fact that he heard the system notification sound indicating that the sketching breakthrough mission was completed when he was only halfway through painting.

The emotions that Gu Weijing felt when painting had already touched another level of artistic realm.

The Lv.6 sketch just vaguely touched the door to the Master's Hall.

Previously, when Gu Weijing was painting, his belief in using beauty to fight emptiness made him believe that there must have been a moment when he did not just touch upon, but had completely stepped into another realm of emotional expression.

The realm of "magnificent writing".

Wonderful writing!

Gu Weijing quietly savored the mysterious feeling of his emotions being uncontrollably released from his pen at that moment.

He had only felt a similar feeling in one painting before - the "Pray to Buddha and Guardians" painting on the wall around the Shwedagon Pagoda.

In terms of emotion alone, this is a level that can only be achieved by Mr. Cao's final work, which contains his childhood and his lifelong insights.

Use a paintbrush to penetrate the void, and use visible brushstrokes to solidify invisible concepts.

Even the time to solidify.

Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva.

"Guan" means to observe the hardships of people's lives, "Shi" means to understand worldly affairs and human hearts, and "Yin" means that the created artworks have a sense of rhythm like the correct sounds of ritual music.

And "Bodhisattva"... has a heart that is extremely sensitive and strong, can feel the suffering of all living beings, and is willing to show great compassion and save people from suffering.

Only like this.

Only then can you truly create good works that touch people's hearts.

"I'm so beautiful, hehe."

Koko's humming sound came from the side.

As she spoke, she pulled Gu Weijing's suit jacket and wiped her hair with it as if it were a large towel.

This behavior is really of limited use.

Gu Weijing jumped into the lake too hastily. At that time, the sound of Koko falling into the water almost penetrated all his thoughts.

He didn't have the time to take off his coat, not even to think about it.

therefore.

Gu Weijing's suit jacket was completely ruined. At this moment, it was as wet as Koko's hair.

Then again, Old Man Gu has always been stingy. When he went traveling, he was reluctant to buy a nice suit for his grandson.

You are obviously dreaming if you want to buy a three-piece suit with real pure wool or pure cashmere lining for 1,800 yuan. At best, it is the kind that sales office guys and real estate agents wear.

Soak it in water, take it out and dry it, and maybe you can still use it.

At this moment, Koko wrapped her hair with her coat and rubbed it hard, then wrapped Gu Weijing's hair with her coat and rubbed it as well.

King Awang lay on the bench with his eyes wide open, looking at these two lunatics as if they were idiots, as they jumped into the lake with a "plop" and then climbed out like drowned rats.

Koko noticed the appearance of the tabby cat.

"Ah."

She walked over and covered the stupid cat that was looking at her on the bench with her wet suit jacket, and rubbed it playfully.

Awang meowed loudly when he was rubbed.

Fortunately.

In the night of Yangon, even if your hair is wet, you won’t feel cold at all.

Instead, it brings a cool breeze.

"Is this the picture you drew for Brother Hao?" Miss Koko asked casually while lowering her head to rub the cat. "No, no, no, I don't want my picture to be displayed on the shore of the underworld, for him to stare at me while smoking a cigarette."

"Don't give him this, give him something else. I want this painting." Miss Koko gave instructions.

"of course."

Gu Weijing smiled.

He pointed to the sketchpad next to him: "This is the picture I drew for you. It was originally a gift for you. As for Chen Shenglin..."

Gu Weijing paused.

He looked quietly into the distance, his eyes calm and meaningful.

"I...have also thought about what to draw for him."

He said in a low voice.

When Koko danced to "Swan Lake", Gu Weijing finally figured it all out.

A scene suddenly appeared in front of Gu Weijing - in the study, Chen Shenglin's face was shrouded in smoke, looking provocatively at the Buddha statue, and then his hands were clasped together in an instant, turning into a face like a devout believer.

Gu Weijing emptied himself and lay back, lying on the wooden planks of the dock.

He looked at the starry sky and smiled quietly.

His laughter grew louder and louder.

Until it echoed across the entire lake.

Everything that had happened in the past six months, the double lives of Hao Ge and Chen Shenglin, the other party's abnormal attention to him, unreasonable patience, repeated plots, and the words that the other party kept telling him...

after all.

As this long, hot summer that seemed to have no end was coming to an end, Gu Weijing was at the dock of Xihe Guild Hall and he figured out everything.

Brother Hao wants to ask Gu Weijing for a painting.

And he decided to draw a picture for Brother Hao.

This is not Gu Weijing expressing compromise with Brother Hao.

Quite the opposite.

This will be Gu Weijing's last and ultimate resistance to fate at the age of eighteen, on the stage of his coming-of-age ceremony.

He thought of Carroll's painting "Old Church in a Thunderstorm" again.

Koko looked at the young man lying on the dock and laughing. She did not interrupt or ask any questions.

It seemed that there was no need to ask.

If it were Katsuko Sakai, she would probably hug Gu Weijing at this moment.

But Koko.

She just held Awang, lay beside Gu Weijing, and gently pulled his hand.

Fingers intertwined.

“A beautiful work of art cannot be described by critics, it speaks for itself. A noble soul cannot be bound by the world, it will find freedom.”

The young man next to the girl whispered softly - "So that's how it is."
-
"Why is that so?"

The girls in the crowd tapped their champagne glasses gently with silver spoons, causing the honey-colored wine to sway slightly. The ding, ding, ding sound drowned out all the noisy chatter in the ballroom.

“A beautiful work of art cannot be described by critics, it speaks for itself. A noble soul cannot be bound by the world, it will find freedom.”

"What does this sentence mean? What does it mean to find freedom on your own?" She looked around and asked the crowd softly.

It was a deep night in the huge and magnificent manor of the Xihe Guild Hall in Yangon, and the moon was bright in the sky.

6.5 time zones away.

In the equally huge and magnificent Elena Manor, it was just getting dark and the traditional social dinner was just beginning.

The banquet hall is decorated in an antique yet interesting way.

The floor was a rosy crimson, and the white curtains around it were like a brittle, thin mist, gently blown by the evening breeze in the Austrian mountains.

This is the ballroom in the manor.

If the French and Russians might have been the biggest party-goers in Europe in the 18th century, the Austrians were the biggest dancers in Europe.

Whether it is the Austrians of the 18th, 19th, 20th or 21st centuries.

This is all the case.

British aristocrats built cricket fields at home, French aristocrats built opera houses at home, Russian aristocrats built ballet theaters at home, and the wealthy Austrian families always built several dance halls at home for young people to socialize.

Whenever a banquet is about to begin.

It will be the busiest time of the year in the manor.

Bottles of wine were unsealed from the family's underground cellar, along with cases of champagne and gin packed in poplar crates.

The blue marble floor in front of the door and the lawn beside the fountain behind it will be filled with all kinds of luxury cars.

Basically, they are dark-colored Mercedes-Benz and executive-class sedans like BMW with angel eyes.

There are one or two eye-catching high-performance sports cars and elegant and valuable classic cars mixed in. They are the cars of young people who like to enjoy the fun of driving themselves and their parents who also like the fun of driving.

Occasionally.

There would also be helicopters flying low over the manor, brushing past the buildings, blowing ripples on the evergreens on the lawn and the skirts of the female guests, and then landing on the water helipad built on the lake in the distance.

Maids in black and white petticoats and butlers in black tuxedos were moving around the manor.

There will be an orchestra playing all night at the manor.

Although it is usually a small single-pipe orchestra, it also has clarinetists, oboists, flutists, trumpet players, a string section of six to eight people, and a pianist... none of them are missing.

Men and women would hug each other and dance to this melody.

The conductor's baton never stops.

The women's skirts kept fluttering, and whoever felt tired would go to the long buffet table next to them to get some Spanish ham, paired with bread and various fruit wines.

It seems as if I could continue to enjoy myself like this until the end of time.

Not long ago.

After Anna's 22nd birthday party, because there was only one hostess now, this large manor, whose area, including mountains, forests and lakes, was measured in square kilometers rather than hectares or acres, inevitably seemed a little deserted and quiet.

until today.

The music started and the lights came back on.

Even though the banquet was held today in the name of commemorating the 150th anniversary of the old earl's birth and re-placing the old earl's bronze statue in the Elena family's manor.

However, this kind of event organized in the form of a social ball certainly cannot have as many well-organized event processes and speech arrangements as the previous European Art Annual Conference.

Even the podium used specifically for delivering speeches seemed too old-fashioned and formal for such an occasion.

just.

To open the ball, Miss Irena replaced the orchestra's pianist. She sat at the piano herself and played Mozart's lively and cheerful "Turkish March" for everyone.

As the last note jumped down.

The countess tapped the champagne glass on the piano with a spoon. According to social etiquette, this sound meant that the host of the banquet was about to give a speech.

The men and women stopped their conversations and fell silent.

Even guests who happened to be walking from the first floor to the second floor would politely stop and look down from the railings of the white carved spiral staircase toward the piano in front of the ballroom.

They all heard the crisp sounds of ding, ding, ding.

Even if not.

When you follow the gaze of the crowd and your eyes fall on the bright and charming face of the woman beside the piano, you will unconsciously become quiet.

"It sounds like a very broad and vague statement, right? We seem to hear similar words all the time in our lives, which sound shocking but seem to have no substance, such as 'beauty', 'freedom', 'nobility'. These words can be embedded in any aphorism, prose or sonnet without any hindrance, and then read and heard, and then forgotten."

Miss Elena tilted her head.

The small emerald ornament on her white earlobe swayed slightly as she moved.

She continued, "What is the meaning of these words? Is the meaning of thinking limited to the brief feeling of these words passing by your ears? When critics write art reviews, are they limited to writing down these broad and vague words? Then-"

“The meaning of thinking is to abandon previous thoughts, record what really needs to be recorded, and call out illusions and dreams from the noisy reality.”

A gentle voice came from the crowd and answered with a smile.

Everyone looked over with curiosity.

An old gentleman with white hair but a handsome figure emerged from the crowd. He was wearing a decent camel-hair tuxedo suit, a black bow tie at his neck, and a neatly folded towel in his chest pocket.

It was undoubtedly Levinson Brown, chairman of Oil Painting magazine.

People who didn't know the inside story looked at Sir Brown with curiosity.

Those who knew the inside story looked strange at this moment.

What Miss Elena said just now was obviously just a rhetorical question. Although it was not a formal speech, when Miss Elena was the host and gave a speech at the banquet, even if it was a question, according to social etiquette, it usually did not need to be answered.

Anna just clinked the champagne glass.

When the conversation started with the two questions "Why is it so?" and "What is freedom?", no guests made any irresponsible remarks.

It’s not necessarily that everyone can’t answer this question.

It's like Martin Luther King Jr. asking aloud from the stage: "Some people asked the civil rights activists, 'When will you be satisfied?'"

And as long as there is a Negro in Mississippi who cannot vote, and a Negro in New York who believes his vote will mean nothing, we will never be satisfied.
We are not satisfied now, and we will not be satisfied in the future, unless justice and fairness come like the waves of the rivers and seas, surging and rolling in!

Then the whole audience just needs to applaud and cheer loudly.

If an activist just raised his fist, there would be some young people below who would start to talk nonsense.

Everyone will be very embarrassed, okay?

Now this young man appeared, and it turned out to be Sir Brown. Normally, with his status, he would not make such a small mistake in social situations.

“The history of the past is like a tombstone, and so are some thoughts. The tombstone records our past, and we gather in front of the tombstone to recall and cherish the memory of our companions who once existed through the epitaph.”

"We are pained by it, saddened by it, and proud of those who deserve to be proud."

"But tombstones cannot define our present, and epitaphs cannot write the future of the living. A work of art is by no means a reproduction of individual entities that appear at any given time. On the contrary, it is a reproduction of the general essence of things. Anna, this is also the meaning of our writing art criticism."

Sir Brown smiled.

"Let us remember the past, and then bravely embrace the future. Ladies and gentlemen, let us temporarily cherish the past, and then raise a toast to the future."

The old gentleman gently raised the champagne glass in his hand.

The history of the past is like a tombstone.

This time.

Even those who didn't know much about the situation, or who initially thought that the harmony between Miss Eleanor and Sir Brown was premeditated, looked at them strangely.

In such a situation, on such an occasion, give such an answer.

This is no longer a question of casual conversation.

This is the equivalent of Martin Luther King asking on stage, “When will we be satisfied?”

Someone responded, "Satisfied! Satisfied! Black and white people are good brothers and sisters, Make America Great Again!"

This has escalated from embarrassing to causing trouble.

This is really bullying Miss Elena because she has inconvenient legs and feet. She can't jump up and chase you to hit you?
Some people in the venue frowned.

Some people smiled playfully.

how to say?

This was an answer with a slightly sharp connotation, but... Sir Brown's words could still be considered a decent answer.

It's a kind of "Greek Socratic street debate" tradition.

Europe's elite class really likes this kind of verbal wit, and they have received such training since their student days.

In a British public school, the best students might be those who are great at playing tennis or rowing.

In continental Europe, if someone can stand out in the debate team, he or she will often be very popular in school. At the very least, he or she will be regarded by students as the smartest person on campus.

If Sir Brown had rushed forward just now, he would have suddenly given Miss Elena a fierce left hook.

Then he can forget about walking out intact.

The housekeeper might rush out with a shotgun.

Even if Sir Brown himself is fine, he would be happy to commit social death in his social circle.

But if he smiled so gently and elegantly, he would give her a verbal left hook.

Then his behavior is still decent.

Everyone just responded with a strange smile.

Anna also had a smile on her face.

“A work of art is by no means a reproduction of individual entities that appear at any given time. On the contrary, it is a reproduction of the general essence of things. The meaning of thinking is to abandon previous thoughts, record what really should be recorded, and call up illusions and dreams from the noisy reality.”

She clapped softly.

"Well said."

(End of this chapter)