Almighty painter

Chapter 868 New Award

Dr. Gustav was somewhat fascinated.

Three million euros is not necessarily a shocking amount if you say it is a lot, but it is definitely not a small amount if you say it is a small amount.

It is enough to open a nice gallery store in a city like Paris or New York.

Also, donate a beautiful small building in those well-known art academies, and leave your name forever on the shining display board of honorary alumni.

If done well, this €3 million check alone could create a prestigious art award.

What Gustav really envied was the claim that "Oil Painting and Gu Weijing jointly raised the fund."

There are many awards in the literary and artistic circles.

They all value reputation over profit.

The famous Turner Prize has experienced several substantial increases in prize money, and now the final winner can only receive a maximum prize of 25000 pounds.

The other three artists who were selected as runners-up received a prize of only 5,000 pounds.

This does not prevent it from being the most important art award in the entire British Isles.

It is even jokingly called a "value multiplier", which means that after winning this award, even though British artists can only get more than 2 pounds in cash, the fame effect brought by the art award named after Turner can allow artists to immediately enjoy the treatment of being a hot shot in the industry.

Collectors from all over the UK flocked in waving cheques, and the prices of some winners' works suddenly increased significantly, even doubling.

From this perspective, the foundation and reputation of "Oil Painting" magazine, and the hidden benefits it brings, far outweigh the value of 300 million euros.

"Is this an award officially established by Oil Painting? Is it directly managed by the magazine or something else?" The big troll Rosings couldn't help himself.

"According to you, this 300 million euros is the total prize pool for the award."

"Yes, this is just my rough idea now. But the total prize pool is not 300 million euros."

Anna said.

"Not three million?"

Rossings looked confused. He looked at the check the woman had placed on the coffee table. The fresh ink mark on it had not yet dried.

He didn't believe that this was a joke she played on everyone.

Gu Weijing had not realized the true value of "The Old Church in the Thunderstorm" before, and expressed his intentions based on wrong information, and there is a possibility that he wants to go back on his word.

But Miss Elena.

Given her status, since the promise had already been made, it was impossible for her to put the check back into her pocket.

"No, not three million. More than that."

Anna nodded calmly.

"It's 10 million euros."

"300 million euros is the money I donated in the name of Mr. Gu. In the next year, Oil Painting magazine and the Muse Project under the magazine will give out another 300 million euros and 400 million euros respectively. A total of 1000 million euros. My current idea is to establish a separate art academy based on the model of the Goncourt Academy, hire ten art academicians, and select a new annual winner every year on this day..."

The heartbeats of the people in the opera house all slowed down at the same time.

In the silence, a warm and restless atmosphere spread silently, people's eyes wandered around the stage, constantly exchanging excited glances.

Ameda Rikiya took notes in his little notebook. He now felt as if he was personally participating in the compilation of art history.

Ten art academicians?

He thought excitedly that after Miss Elena said this, Yu Tianli understood that this was a very serious matter. People really wanted to imitate the Goncourt Prize and create an art award.

Awards mean fame.

Fame means power.

It is not just the winners who have the power to be noticed by the entire industry, to rise to prominence, and to gain entry into the upper echelons of the industry.

The award judges also have the power to decide who is worthy of being noticed by the entire industry, to rise to prominence, and to enter the upper echelons of the industry.

Those who can grant power to others are closer to the core of power than those who accept power from others.

It is different from the Nobel Prize, which is awarded by the Royal Academy and has thousands of people with the right to nominate.

The equally prestigious Goncourt Prize Foundation is affiliated with a maximum of ten Goncourt fellows, and often the number is not fully filled, leaving vacancies.

The ten people meet once a month at the Rouen restaurant in Paris. They are the ten most influential writers, literary scholars and critics in France and even in the entire French-speaking world.

They are the most authoritative group of ten in the entire French literature.

"This is one step towards becoming a member of the palace." Yutian Liye murmured.
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"Since the founding of the country in the Pingzheng Sheng period, six generations have passed down the throne. Although they have been appointed as guardians of various countries and have great power, they have not been granted the grace of heaven to ascend to the palace, nor have they been listed in the immortal register of the palace's upper ranks."

——"The Tale of the Heike: Chapter 1: "Gion-no-Shōsha""
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“Since the name is related to the Salon des Refusés, does this award focus on Impressionism? Will it be a special award for painting, or will it be a general award for the art industry?”

The one who was even more excited than Rikiya Ameda in the audience was Gustav on the stage.

He has always been the calmest person on stage.

Without desire, one is strong.

He is a PhD in pure art who works in an ivory tower. He has nothing to do with wealth and fame. But no matter what, no matter how turbulent the outside world is, whoever becomes the commander-in-chief will not lack food to eat.

So he is really Buddhist.

Rosings was making a fuss, but he was still talking in a soft voice. Alexander was spitting all over his mouth, but he was still talking in a soft voice.

Even if Kara's story is revealed.

Gustav was surprised, and also felt envious that such a big pie had fallen on Gu Weijing's head, but he couldn't get a share of it anyway.

At most, you would watch others eat pie with big mouthfuls while you chew fennel beans with salt water, stretch your neck to look at them with fascination, and imagine whether it would be so beautiful that you would die.

The doctor remained calm.

At this moment, the doctor finally lost his composure.

He didn't care whether Anna had a complete plan at the moment, and immediately asked.

The tower near the water gets the moon first.

Impressionism.

This is a suitable major, isn’t it?
Gustav didn't want to get any of those nonsense, like the title of an art academician, because that probably wouldn't be his thing. But if he could win an award, no, he only needed to be nominated once or twice.

Apart from anything else, the problem of university teaching positions can always be solved. Maybe, after a few old professors pass away, he will be able to get a tenured position.

"In fact, it's not just painters. I think researchers in related fields also need attention. I know a lot of people who work very hard, including researchers working in museums, art galleries and universities." Gustav hinted frantically, hoping that Miss Elena would not define the boundaries too rigidly at the beginning.

"Of course, of course."

Anna nodded.

“I hope this can become a general award in the art industry, with winners covering painters, scholars, and media critics. I don’t want to define it as a pure painting award, or a research award, or even a literary award at the beginning. No, at the same time…”

The woman changed her tone and said, "I don't want to define it as a pure impressionist award when it is first established."

She put her hands on her arms.

“At the same time, it should be a purely impressionistic award.”

Anna said again.

In an unwavering tone, she uttered a riddle that was full of twists and turns.

Gustav's eyes were confused and hazy. He was completely confused by Anna, as if he was staring at a carrot hanging on a fishing rod. He stretched his head and turned his neck again and again, and finally he gave himself a stiff neck.

"The Impressionism of the past is the Impressionism that existed in the Salon des Refusés, the Impressionism that Monet and Camille relied on each other for survival on cold winter nights."

Gu Weijing, staring at the brass nameplate in his hand like a bookmark in a trance, spoke softly.

A knowing smile appeared on Anna's face.

"Yes, if I were to define it seriously, in my mind, this award should be about the Impressionism of the past. This foundation is used to focus on the Impressionist painters who existed on the banks of the Seine 150 years ago."

“Pay attention to the losers who once existed in the Salon of Losers.”

Anna explained: "Modern Impressionism does not need a spotlight on it. Claude Monet, who stayed in Keveney Manor in France to build the Japanese Bridge, did not need to be saved. At that time, he had already obtained most of the social recognition that a painter could get. He had wealth and fame. He had everything."

"The Monet who painted Water Lilies by the pond in 1910 was no longer the Monet who painted Woman with a Parasol outside Paris in 1875."

"Don't get me wrong, there is no moral judgment in what I said. I am certainly not saying that Monet doesn't deserve all this, that he can't be successful, that he can't live a peaceful life, that great artists deserve to suffer, that they deserve to be tortured by poverty and hunger. They don't deserve to enjoy a happy life."

Anna shook her head. "I am just making an objective description. There are some things that money and awards can do, and some things that cannot. In 1910, Monet no longer needed financial support and encouragement. He became famous all over the world. Some collectors from the United States came all the way to encourage him with money. Similarly, if Van Gogh were alive today, any living oil painter would worship him as if he were a living saint."

"You can imagine that now a man in a suit and tie finds him and says that after discussion among the judges, we have decided to recognize his artistic contribution, and then hands him a check for 3 euros and asks him to sign it and use it to improve his life and eat something good."

"Mr. Vincent Van Gogh, you must feel very honored now. Would you like to give some speeches to express your gratitude for winning the award?" Miss Elena raised her lips and spoke in a tone that sounded like a deliberately business elite.

Then she smiled.

The entire audience laughed along.

Anna shook her head.

"Van Gogh would say, 'I'm honored, but it's not fair. One of my Sunflowers is about 20 inches wide, and the insurance company insured it for about $3 million. The average value of each inch of brushstrokes is $1500 million. You gave me a check and want a long signature? Sorry, according to the market price, you have to give me at least a few million dollars more.'"

Everyone laughed again.

Anna looked at everyone. She knew that even if Vincent Van Gogh were alive today, he probably wouldn't say these words.

This kind of sharp and sarcastic language with a dry sense of humor is not Van Gogh's style.

It's Miss Elena's style.

"Today's Van Gogh no longer needs recognition from any award. If any award can recognize Van Gogh, it is an honor for the award, not Van Gogh. The Van Gogh of 1875 needed recognition. The Monet of 1910 did not need any financial support. The Monet of 1875 needed financial help to get him through the most difficult years."

“Perhaps Monet in 1910 was still in pain and still needed help. Perhaps Van Gogh today still needs recognition from someone, such as Gauguin, who was once a close friend but now parted ways unhappily. But this is not something that an award can do, nor is it something that $300 million, $ million, or $ million can do.”

"But."

"Today I have been thinking for a long time that a prize of 1000 million euros might really help them. A prize that focuses on the spirit of Impressionism rather than Impressionist works."

"Doctor, you asked me what kind of award this is, so I'll tell you. This is an award dedicated to helping Van Gogh in 1875, not Van Gogh today. This is an award dedicated to helping Monet in the cold winter outside Paris, Camille who suffered from postpartum disease, not Monet in Giverny. This is an award dedicated to helping Picasso in the Blue Age, not Picasso with a net worth of 2 million francs."

Anna looked at Gu Weijing.

She thought to herself.

“This is an award to help Miss Elena who died in the cellar, not to help Miss Elena who died as the core of her dream gradually withered in her heart—”

“That’s the only principle of this award,” she said.

"I think Sir Brown would agree with me, right?" Anna said with a rather malicious tone, "Of course, the promise I made today as the art director on behalf of Oil Painting magazine still needs to be approved by the board of directors."

"But it does not matter."

"I can also make a second promise. If Oil Painting Magazine and the Muse Project are unable to pay this money for various reasons, then the remaining 700 million euros will also be paid by the Irene Family Foundation."

Anna looked at Gu Weijing.

We held this symposium today and talked about so many paintings, all for Kara.

But the last one was for him and for Gu Weijing.

She turned her gaze back to Alexander.

(End of this chapter)