Almighty painter

Chapter 904 Facts prove that happy education is important
The deck became a graveyard.

The bonfire is the lantern hung on the grave by someone.

Gu Weijing was standing against a tin barrel, with a ridiculous crown on his head, and his whole body looked like a ghost reflected by the light and shadow.

There are two pieces of evidence for this:

the first.

There are always a lot of people gathered at funerals.

Everyone looked sad and hesitant, some were crying bitterly, some had sad faces, but not many people were truly sad.

Most of the guests with relatively weak relationships came just out of some kind of courtesy. They looked sad out of some kind of courtesy or as a gesture of pity.

They don't cry to remember someone, but to forget. After the sadness disappears from their faces, the existence of this person is completely erased from their lives.

Since the guest's cry is like this.

I guess the guests’ laughter is pretty good too.

second.

The existence in the world of the living should not be able to understand what the ghost said. It cried hard, pushing the lantern in front of the tombstone to sway slowly, while the butterflies in the world of the living were flying in the brilliant grass.

They live in a sunny and cheerful world.

It intersects and overlaps with the sadness in the ghost's cry, but they are incompatible.

Since that's how the ghost cries.

I think the Phantom's laugh is not bad either.

None of the guests in the salon were crying, they were laughing... After a few seconds of silence, everyone realized that Gu Weijing's story had come to an end.

Two or three kind-hearted guests laughed obediently.

They didn't really think the story was funny, and they didn't realize what the funny part was.

They were just kind-hearted and didn't want Gu Weijing to feel too embarrassed and stand in the middle, unable to save himself.

Out of politeness, laugh at this failed burden.

Out of pity, I laughed at the failed performance just now.

Gu Weijing stood in the flickering campfire.

He tried hard to tell a funny joke, with a naive examination of life and immature vigilance.

he was thinking.

"What if that beautiful poor girl had not died in the year she got married?"

"If the Titanic had not sunk in the cold waters of the North Atlantic, for the perfect love of Rose and Jack..."

"Then what should I do?"

On a ship that is about to sink, it may not be that difficult to hug someone and say "I love you".

But can such love really withstand the daily necessities of life?
The director's imagination of perfect love is as if love will always stay at the moment when the ship sinks, as if love will always stay at the moment when the wife lies on the hospital bed and tells you to let Paris go to hell.

When "love" solidifies in death, it is sealed by the crystal of memory.

It is flawless, dreamy, and "Artictical".

But Gu Weijing didn't have much confidence whether such love could last long.

Oliver is the perfect husband in American fantasies: rich, handsome, strong, able to lead the Harvard team to beat their opponents on the ice hockey field, and also a famous lawyer.

He is a prince in a fairy tale.

Her wife is the perfect wife, considerate, intelligent, funny, humorous, and hardworking.

That's the story of a dream.

But Gu Weijing always felt that all their love was prepared for a death that was destined to come. It was not like the love between humans, but like two priests walking hand in hand in front of the temple.

The stories in the dream are always trapped in the dream.

If only this conversation happened at 25 instead of at 95.

Gu Weijing felt.

That, I'm afraid, is true love.

Love can conquer death, but can love conquer a boring life?

Gu Weijing himself was amused by the sour, harsh and vicious meaning in his joke.

He smiled and shook his head.

Looking at the guests around me with considerate smiles on their faces, I felt like I was in a small tomb.

All the humor in his stories was trapped in this hard, empty shell and could not be conveyed.

Their laughter and their own laughter, their emotions and their own emotions, intersect and overlap with each other, yet do not blend with each other.

suddenly.

He heard a laugh from the side.

That smile was full of mockery, with a sharp, mean and malicious meaning.

Anyone could easily hear the coldness in this laughter.

The guests turned their heads one after another with complicated expressions on their faces.

It was Anna Elena who sneered at Gu Weijing.

A butterfly.

It rested on the tombstone.
-
"The living can die, and the dead can live."

"Those who are alive but cannot die, and who are dead but cannot be resurrected, are not the most emotional. Why must the emotions in dreams not be true? Are there not many people in the world who are in dreams?"

(Ming Dynasty) Tang Xianzu, "The Peony Pavilion" Inscription
-
"Mr. Gu, do you know the Central Cafe? Many years ago, every time I went to Vienna, I would go to the cafe there to drink coffee."

at the same time.

Esplanade - Theatres on the Bay.

Two men, one thin and one fat, dressed in suits and leather shoes so shiny that they could serve as mirrors, stood side by side in front of the booth of "Human Noise".

They each put their hands behind their backs, observing the artists' work with great eagerness.

"Vienna? Yes."

The thin and bald man hummed softly, and no one knew what he was humming about.

"Vienna is a very beautiful and classical city, and the coffee houses there are great places. A hundred years ago, it could be called a gathering place for celebrities. I like drinking coffee there. The taste of the coffee there is not much different from that of other places, but it always gives me a very wonderful imagination."

The fatter men showed off their knowledge.

"As the doorbell rings the next time—"

"Klimt, Lenin, Chekhov, Freud, Liszt, Wittgenstein, or the founder of Oil Painting magazine... they 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."

"Ah."

The thin man continued to make a dull nasal sound.

"Of course, it could also be Adolf." The fat man changed the subject slightly, "Don't you think this is very similar to visiting an art exhibition? Sometimes, you won't see the works of truly outstanding artists. Other times, you can only see the ramblings of some lunatics disguised as artists."

Probably the effect of this wonderful joke.

The old man next to him stroked the hair on his forehead to make it look thicker, and then let out a hearty and heroic laugh.

"Mr. Yang, what do you think of Wei Jing's work?"

“Nature is a masterpiece.”

The fat man thought about it.

"Maybe he can't be called the young Liszt in the music world, but your grandson is so young that he can create such a work. He is really a young man to be feared."

"You're overpraising me, Mr. Yang. Your praise will make him too proud."

"That's not an exaggeration at all. Mr. Gu, if I had a junior like this, I would be very proud of myself."

The fat man said this.

He had finished pretending to be awesome, but he was not satisfied. He changed the subject and threw out a question. "So, Mr. Gu, what do you think of this painting by Xiao Gu? Would an Impressionist work seem too old-fashioned in the aesthetic taste of the judges of the International Biennale in this era?"

"The selection of awards is based on a comprehensive consideration of many aspects." The fat man rubbed his belly and entered the cooldown period of his pretentiousness. "In my opinion, this painting is indeed a masterpiece with a profound meaning, but I'm afraid it may not have much advantage in the award judging."

"What does Mr. Gu think?"

"Well."

The thin man was silent.

"I can't say anything about the award."

Just when the people next to him felt that they had won a slight victory in this short contest.

"But if you ask me -" I heard the other person's voice in my ear, "this is a lion-like work."

"Oh? How to say it."

The fat man pretended to be attentive.

"The lion-like virtue is the virtue of courage. To accept it all bravely, to look directly at these shadows, to face these gray emotions and tones, to roar with anger that makes life tremble."

The man said in a deep voice.

His tone was commanding.

Like a... bald old lion.

"People should have the virtues of a lion, and I think that works of art should be the same. As long as you understand this -"

“Then I think that all works are not old works, and they are not outdated works.”

The fat man was stunned.

He probably found it a little hard to believe that the guy next to him could come up with such profound and powerful insights.

His little belly trembled twice and he slowly turned his head.

The thin man beside him also turned his head to look at him, with two tufts of fluffy hair combed specially on his forehead swaying in the extremely cold air of the Esplanade at night.

The two men's eyes met.

Invariably.

At the same time, hearty and comfortable laughter broke out, as if in the gathering hall of Liangshan Marsh, the heroes of the green forest were drinking, sympathizing with each other, and were ready to chop off chicken heads and burn yellow paper to become brothers at any time.

"Mr. Yang, you are such a wonderful person, with a great sense of humor and profound and reasonable ideas."

"Mr. Gu, you are the same. Your words are always powerful. I rarely say this, but you must be a strong person in life."

Another burst of laughter.

Fight! Cool! Fight!
It has been a long time since Gu Tongxiang pretended so happily. After more contact with Yang Dekang, the old man Gu realized that it was useless to pretend because he did not know Yang Dekang.

Since that art interview ended.

They had only fought briefly a few times, but each time was joyful and enjoyable. In just a few days, they felt like they had known each other for years.

Lao Yang is such a stingy person, but he even said hello to Liu Ziming and let him use the Mpower racing car that he lent him.

Old Yang was also puzzled.

He knew that he had really underestimated Mr. Gu in the past.

Although he seemed to be playing it lightly, he still pretended to have given it his all. He used the joke he had just copied from Miss Anna at the airport after arriving in Singapore, and used the "Great Shift of the Universe" as an attack.

did not expect.

Gu Weijing's grandfather didn't even blush or breathe heavily, and he blocked it with a domineering move "Flying Dragon in the Sky" on the spot.

The tune is as if it came from one person's mouth.

Great.

The two men, who had been pretending for a long time, pretending until the road was about to be wiped out, but did not say a word of their own, all of them were Miss Elena's porters, and turned around.

They walked side by side towards the activity area on the side.

The Biennale is usually closed at this time, but this is the last week of the Biennale. In order to coordinate with the sports events also held in the waterfront area, small cultural activities will be held in the Biennale's exhibition hall every evening these days.

Small lecture salons, parent-child education and so on.

Ma Shi Gallery suggested that if Gu Tongxiang had no special plans, he could also come to such occasions to show his face.

Forget about getting an exclusive interview with Oil Painting like Gu Weijing did.

This kind of small activity is better than nothing.

At this time, in the activity area of ​​the Biennale, there is a long table for everyone to paint freely, and around the table are children and parents who bring their children to play.

"Call me Teacher Gu."

"Hello, Teacher Gu."

"Teacher Gu, take a look at how well I draw."

"Teacher Gu, your painting just now was so amazing. Is this a peony flower..."

He and Lao Yang had just been out for a stroll together, and when they returned to the rest area, they were immediately surrounded by a group of children.

There are few well-known judges here today.

But Lao Gu had a lot of fun.

He feels great pretending.

He enjoyed the feeling of being surrounded and admired, as if he had returned to his childhood.

Student Lao Gu felt that he had made the right decision to come here today.

If you go to Liu Ziming's salon, he is just an unknown person there. Others look at him politely at most, but there is no respect or admiration for him.

My family knows their own affairs.

He definitely couldn't be carefree in a place like that.

But here it is.

He is the great Mr. Gu, Teacher Gu, and Mr. Gu rather than just Old Gu.

It’s artist Gu.

Even Master Gu.

He painted briskly in front of the children.

Just now, Teacher Gu was set off by Teacher Yang next to him, and he was able to show off at his best.

Gu Tongxiang felt that he was in good spirits, and his energy and spirit were at their peak.

He suddenly took the paintbrush from the child who was looking at him eagerly.

"Come, I will teach you how to draw bamboo. When drawing bamboo, the key is——"

Master Gu is about to take action!
I just want to ask you if you are afraid.

Old classmate Gu started writing with a brush. He felt that what his grandson had taught him in the past naturally flowed into his heart without any deep thinking.

The mottled shadows of bamboo grow in my heart.

He was a nimble swordsman with long fluttering sleeves, moving swiftly and swiftly among the bamboo forests.

The paintbrush in your hand is your sword.

Waves of sword light.

Bamboo leaves falling.

I saw bamboo leaves falling on the drawing paper in front of me, and I wondered if it was an illusion.

Student Lao Gu felt that his painting today was particularly good.

This day.

Gu Tongxiang's Chinese painting skills finally succeeded in breaking through to the level 5 second-level professional realm.

(End of this chapter)