Almighty painter

Chapter 697: Detective Anna (Part )
Liu Ziming did not ask any more questions.

Old Yang was also very tactful and did not answer. He stood in front of the dressing mirror, fixing his curly hair, twisting his waist from time to time, and secretly glancing at Miss Elena's profile in the distance through the reflective mirror with the corner of his eyes, wondering if he could find some topic to talk about, walk over with his hands behind his back, and tell a joke that would make the young lady happy.

Miss Elena sat by the glass, watching in the sunlight as a huge double-decker A380 wide-body Singapore Airlines aircraft taxied onto the runway outside the window, and watched it fly into the sky like a blue-tailed goose.

The whole person was as quiet as a sculpture.

She seemed to be unaware of the strange conversation and atmosphere between the two, or perhaps she noticed it but was not interested.

Time flows in quiet silence, minute by minute.

It seemed like two or three minutes had passed.

A group of people suddenly walked out of the airport's immigration channel. The footsteps of the thin and gaunt elderly people, mixed with the tapping sound of a few leather shoes hitting the marble tiles on the airport floor, were very pleasant to the ears.

Not that kind of shuffling, vague grinding sound.

It was a light rustling sound.

It was a crane landing on the beach, its slender, skinny bright red feet walking slowly on the golden sand, making a rustling sound.

Miss Elena turned around.

"Good morning, Mr. Cao. And of course, Miss Zhou. Good morning."

Anna, who was sitting by the window, was the first one to turn her wheelchair and walk to the entrance of the VIP lounge to wait, even before Liu Ziming, who was flipping through his paper in deep thought, and Lao Yang, who was studying four different ways of buttoning in front of the dressing mirror.

She held out her hand to the group of people approaching.

A skinny old man was supported by a middle-aged woman and walked into the VIP lounge. A little further away, there was a man dragging a suitcase, who should be Wei Yunxian's personal assistant.

After a long flight.

The old man looked a little tired, but his eyes were relaxed, light and bright.

During the interview.

Miss Elena is a fierce person.

If you don't like her, you can even say she's mean.

Anna is always used to using her own words to make various sharp comments on various occasions.

The words are not sarcastic, but they are definitely sharp.

In her writing, being old does not necessarily mean being respected.

Anna even once laughed at her great-grandfather, saying that some of the interview articles he wrote in his later years were like those failed "Ravioli (a kind of Italian dumplings)", with exquisite dough wrapped in repetitive clichés.

It would be a good article if you just read it and don't eat it.

But if you put it on the tip of your tongue and take a gentle bite, then the dull, dry smell of staleness will come to you, the faded nineteenth century.

Anna has one big regret, which is that she was born a century too late, so she didn't have the opportunity to interview Picasso.

Picasso is so interesting.

She kept imagining.

What would it be like if I had the opportunity to sit in front of Picasso and chat with him for half an hour?

Her article will definitely be better than the one her great-grandfather wrote, and closer to the real Picasso.

Would Picasso's life in his later years be as boring as his great-grandfather's in his later years?

Probably not.

She had seen pictures of Picasso.

In those old photos, there always seemed to be some vibrant light flickering, touching her.

The elderly Picasso might also be like a plate of dumplings.

It’s not a beautiful and delicate dumpling, but inside the wrinkled and pale dough, it contains a “beast” full of vitality.

Whenever Anna looked into the eyes of Picasso in the photo, she would feel that this was a man who was always as young as a boy. Even more than the Fauvist Matisse, he could make Anna feel the frenetic, abstract and vigorous vitality.

The process of interviewing Cao Xuan, to a certain extent, made Anna make up for the regret of not being able to "interview Picasso".

It’s not because Cao Xuan is a great painter.

It’s not because Cao Xuan knew Picasso.

It may be hard for ordinary people to meet someone who meets these conditions, but for Miss Elena, it is not a problem at all.

She has seen historical painters like Jasper Johns or Damien Hirst, who can earn $100 million for each work.

Even accounting for inflation, Picasso's paintings sold for less than half that amount during his lifetime.

She also visited Picasso's lover, Françoise Gilot, and wrote a column for her.

None of these people made her really feel like she was "interviewing" Picasso.

Only Cao Xuan.

Every time she met Cao Xuan, Miss Elena couldn't help but think of Picasso.

Especially something about the twinkle in those old eyes.

It always reminds Anna of the photos taken by reporters of Picasso in his later years, in which the little old man with deep wrinkles between his brows stared at the camera.

It's still different.

Picasso's eyes gave Anna the feeling that a beast with endless vitality was wrapped in his dry skin.

It's as if there is a roaring lion or a running elephant wrapped in the dumpling.

And Cao Xuan's eyes gave Anna the feeling that an innocent, young, childish soul was wrapped in dry skin.

It was as if inside the old woman's body with deep wrinkles, there was a baby who had just been born, staring at her and the world with curious eyes.

A centenarian and a premature baby...the two types of people who are closest to the eternal night of knowing nothing and having nothing.

They represent the two poles of life, with all the joys, sorrows, anger and happiness in a person's life separated in between.

In Cao Xuan, these two characteristics were melted into one.

This feeling always makes Miss Anna feel very interesting.

just now.

The old man's childlike eyes were fixed on her.

"Good morning, Anna," said the old man.

Perhaps Cao Xuan did not expect that he would meet Miss Elena, who also flew to Singapore to see the art exhibition, in the airport lounge.

He narrowed his eyes and smiled.

"I hope you're not here to interview me today?" he asked.

"Why not? Am I terrible? What a pity. I thought the interview went very well."

Miss Elena rarely made any "Anna's sharp comments", but instead smiled playfully and shook hands with Wei Yunxian on the side.

"The problem is that you are too successful. Two months ago, I felt that I had already talked about everything I could talk about, and you have mercilessly dug it out of me. It's like a squeezed lemon. If I continue to squeeze it, the readers of Oil Painting will probably feel bored, right?"

Cao Xuan said with a smile.

"No, quite the opposite. I think the name Cao Xuan has a kind of magic waiting to be discovered. When it is written on paper and the audience reads it, it is like visiting the famous 'Central Cafe' next to Vienna's Heroes Square, which has witnessed countless historical events."

Anna answered. "When I was in school, I went there many times. Although the shop only offered a few simple coffees and I was already very familiar with it, and it was often filled with tourist groups from all over the world, I still couldn't help but walk in when I passed by, sit at the table by the window, order a cup of espresso, and imagine myself in Vienna 100 years ago."

"As the doorbell rings the next time—"

"Klimt, Lenin, Chekhov, Freud, Liszt, Wittgenstein... would put away their umbrellas, shake off the raindrops on the street, walk in, sit in front of me, order a cup of coffee, and start smoking a pipe. This kind of imagination is always interesting."

Miss Elena said with a smile.

"Wow, I know this is flattery, but I'm still happy to hear you put me together with these names." Cao Xuan still had that smiling look on his face.

"No, if we're unlucky, it could also be Adolf Hitler who walks in and takes off his coat." Anna blinked. "But no matter what, the text will never stop celebrating its arrival, and that's the key to art criticism."

This time.

Mr. Cao really couldn't help it.

He was so amused by the woman that he laughed out loud while leaning on his crutches.

"Okay, I'll be careful not to become like Adolf."

Liu Ziming and Lao Yang, who had come over, also laughed along.

The only difference is that Liu Ziming probably thinks Anna is funny, but Lao Yang, on the other hand, smiles and pouts as he secretly glances at Miss Elena.

Not particular.

So ungrateful!
It would be fine if you, little sister, stole Lao Yang's painting of wisteria that he could use to exchange for a big villa in the future.

How can you take over the job of telling jokes to make Mr. Cao happy?

Don’t give others a way to live!
Anna's style of dry humor is different from Lao Yang's jokes.

Anna's jokes often sound a bit cold and sharp at first, but if you savor them carefully, you will find that there is always an indescribable warmth in them.

A cloudy day in Vienna.

Silver-like rain wet the long street. A girl in a wheelchair sat in a warm corner of the cafe, slowly raising her cup and drinking the espresso on the table.

She looked at the heavy rain outside the window and imagined who would be the next person to push the door open and tell a story, whether it would be Chopin, Liszt or Adolf.

A musician or a poet.

An angel or a devil.

Even someone like Lao Yang felt that this scene could inspire endless imagination.

He had to admit that this was much more elegant and profound than his greasy jokes.

snort!
woman.

Your joke is good, but... now it belongs to me, Brother Yang!

Lao Yang hummed in his heart and secretly wrote it down in his little notebook.

"Also, without any offense, I must point out, Mr. Cao Xuan, that you did not tell me the truth."

After the smile.

"Anna's Sharp Comments" is online again!

Miss Elena looked at Mr. Cao Xuan, then glanced at Wei Yunxian and Liu Ziming beside him, and said half-jokingly and half-seriously: "Who said I can't dig out new stories?"

"When I met Mr. Liu at the airport this morning, I thought it was just a coincidence."

"Until I met Mr. Cao and Ms. Zhou again. If this was all a coincidence, it would be too much of a coincidence, right? Has anyone ever calculated the probability of meeting three painters ranked in the top 20 in the artist rankings at the airport within minutes? I guess it shouldn't be a very high number."

Anna smiled and said, "I can't help but wonder, if I continue to sit here for a while, will I be able to meet Mr. Lin and Ms. Tang?"

"It seems that Anna, you can also guess wrong sometimes."

Old Master Cao shook his head.

He flicked his hands and smiled.

"They are both very busy recently, so the flight they booked will be later. They will arrive in Singapore at noon the day before the official opening of the exhibition next week."

He did not hide anything and openly admitted that during this exhibition, all his living disciples, from the oldest Lin Tao to the youngest Tang Ning, would gather in Singapore.

"Come to see the art exhibition?"

Anna was very curious.

"Mr. Tonks is an excellent curator, but... I don't seem to see any content about this in the exhibition schedule? It seems that none of your disciples will come to participate in the exhibition."

Miss Elena was indeed a little confused.

She had looked at the long list of the organizing committee and jury of this Biennale, and did not see the names of any of these great painters on it.

Given the status of Cao Xuan and his group, they don’t need to participate in the exhibition, nor do they need Mr. Cao to come in person.

The fact that either Liu Ziming or Wei Yunxian was invited to appear at the Biennale, say a few words, or have a half-hour conversation would be enough for the organizing committee to make a special note of it in the exhibition brochure.

Singapore and Malaysia are next to each other.

Liu Ziming is half local.

Anna believed that he had nothing to do and was just strolling around the exhibition as a tourist.

But if even Mr. Cao came, and if they came just to see the exhibition... this year's Singapore Biennale is certainly very important, but it is not worthy of this level of attention.

Any disciple of Cao Xuan, picked out, would perform at an exhibition of this level.

In terms of net worth, it’s not to mention crushing.

At least they all stand out from the crowd.

When Tang Ning was 20 years old, he won the highest award at the Shanghai Biennale, which is almost as famous as the Singapore Biennale.

now.

She is qualified to be the chairperson of the organizing committee.

That's interesting.

These great painters are neither busy nor idle.

In April this year, there was a grand auction in Hong Kong, and Tang Ning's works were sold for hundreds of millions of Hong Kong dollars, and her work's transaction record ranked among the top five female painters in the world.

Read the report.

At that time, Wei Yunxian was probably the only one who went to the Hong Kong Spring Auction to cheer for her junior sister. No one else came.

This time everyone was present in an orderly manner!

The Singapore Biennale is just an art competition. In previous years, even if a work won a gold medal, it was hard to say whether it could be sold for $100,000.

If Detective Cat hadn't participated in the competition, and if she hadn't been sure that Detective Cat would win the gold medal, Anna might have gone to the New York Art Fair.

What made Cao Xuan make such a big scene?

To put it bluntly.

The net worth of these master and apprentices could probably satisfy 95 percent of the organizing committees and juries of art exhibitions in the world.

When they stand together, in the eyes of the media, they may attract more attention than the entire Biennale itself.

She was here for Detective Cat.

Who are these people for?
(End of this chapter)