Almighty painter

Chapter 986 The "Goddess" Riding the "Lion" into Battle

At a table by the window in the restaurant.

The woman sat in her wheelchair, holding a cup of coffee, watching with amusement as Elliott struggled to drag the cat back to his seat.

Really no fatty liver?
Really no fatty liver?
Really no fatty liver?
Her gaze was fixed on the ginger cat's round belly, and she concluded that at least one of them, the cat and the veterinarian's report in her drawer, defied scientific principles.

As the exhibition approaches, the density of various art promotion activities is also increasing.

There is an interview arranged by Maestro III tonight.

Gu Weijing is currently taking a viola lesson, so Anna didn't go straight back to their studio. Instead, she went to the restaurant at the Hamburg University of Music and Drama, ordered a coffee, and read a popular novel to pass the time.

She has been sitting here for a while now.

Anna closed her book and listened intently to the increasingly loud conversation in the hall outside.

……

"Full of errors, absolutely full of errors."

Williams said indignantly, "If this were a violin competition, he wouldn't even make it past the regional preliminary rounds. But now, he just casually picks up the bow and pretends to play a few notes, and he actually thinks he's something special."

"Artistic expression?"

"He can't even play a complete musical phrase properly, so what kind of artistic expression can he have? Unless, imitating someone's stuttering speech can be considered artistic expression, aba, aba, aba, aba."

In private settings.

The violinist was unusually emotional, cutting the onion-cooked octopus on his plate with a knife while making a discriminatory, comical sound, like someone trying to speak like a mute.

"He's someone who can hold an art exhibition in the Louvre."

"That's what the agent said."

“It’s the Louvre Abu Dhabi, ma’am,” a student who had read the news said with a smile.

“The Louvre Abu Dhabi is still the Louvre,” the agent said. “If you ask me… that’s probably quite an achievement, isn’t it? Um… I checked, didn’t Picasso also have an exhibition at the Louvre?”

"Maybe."

Williams shrugged nonchalantly.

"How about... I think of a way to arrange for you two to meet again privately?" the agent suddenly suggested.

"Who?"

"Who else could it be? It's Gu Weijing, isn't it? We've been talking about him, haven't we?" The agent lowered his voice.

"At the next event related to the Master Project?"

“Sure, but I suggest we do it at the school. I heard that Gu Weijing comes for violin lessons twice a week. I’ve already contacted the senior student who teaches him, and we can arrange it,” the agent said. “Alternatively, we could visit him directly at the art academy.”

"Why?" Williams asked, puzzled.

“Because of the message you sent last time, and because he just turned 20 and is about to have a solo exhibition at the Louvre. That’s at least equivalent to… having a recital at Lincoln Center,” the agent said. “You can say whatever you want in private, but I’ve told you before, it’s best not to make things too awkward with this kind of person in public.”

"Are you willing to offend a musician who is only 20 years old and is giving a solo recital at Lincoln Center?" the agent asked.

"Gu Weijing!"

Williams turned up the volume, popped an octopus leg into his mouth and chewed it, then sneered.

"Him? Does he even deserve it?"

Meow!
The curtain swayed.

A cat peeked out from behind the curtain again, sniffing and trying to run towards the direction of the scent, but was then dragged back by its chain.

good.

Never mind, never mind, never mind.

"You can't just put on a piece of work that nobody understands and get into Lincoln Center."

Williams took a sip of water and then shook his head.

"Whatever. But my personal suggestion is that we should have a private, face-to-face, and sincere explanation to him that the tweet you posted before wasn't directed at him, it was a misunderstanding."

The agent changed the subject and looked at him.

"You mean... an apology?" Williams seriously considered the meaning of his agent's sincere "explanation," then flew into a rage.

"You want me to apologize to him? Why should I?"

He slammed the water glass down on the table.

“Because you did something very immature.” The agent’s voice was low as she stared into the other person’s eyes. “Posting this on your own account is incredibly stupid. You didn’t even consult me! Otherwise, I wouldn’t have allowed you to do it.”

"What's so special about this art project? It's not the most important thing for either of you. You're in different fields and don't have a strong competitive relationship. Even if you lose, it doesn't matter. You could have made it a wonderful relationship, a beautiful story, like those beautiful stories between painters and musicians in history."

"That's what the agent said."

"Why make such a fuss? You won't gain anything from this; it's a lose-lose situation. Think carefully about my suggestion: we should go to the Hamburg Academy of Fine Arts. That would show our sincerity. And right here at the music academy? That would have its advantages too; he can practice there. Or, why don't you take some time to teach him? You two can also coordinate the publicity."

"You invite him to your annual performance. He might also invite you to his art exhibition."

Williams was furious.

What's going on here.

He felt that his agent not only did not understand him, but also did not respect him at all.

Williams has almost never lost a music competition since he was a child. He is a champion, a winner, and a victor.

just now.

The recent news about the adoration of Gu Weijing—his "defeated opponent"—has created a strong sense of dissonance in him.

He felt both jealous and disappointed.

His agent's suggestion that he apologize to Gu Weijing privately at this moment struck a nerve with him.

"Why do you always focus on those mediocre people instead of looking at me when I'm so good?"

The pent-up resentment caused Williams to get angry every time the topic came up.

The more his agent brought it up, the angrier he became.

Most of his daily complaints were probably attempts to gain emotional validation and support from his agent, but the agent just didn't understand.

Snapped!
Williams waved his arm like he was shooing away flies, as if trying to get rid of Gu Weijing's annoying appearance.

He was still holding a fork in his hand.

The octopus ring on the fork was flung off, bounced twice on the carpet, and rolled into the corner.

"I've told you so many times, don't lump me in with that kind of person. He's nobody. I already tried my best to hold back from kicking that show-off that day. I don't want you to bring this up again."
-
"If I ran into Picasso on the street, I would kick him hard in the butt."

— Winston Churchill (British).

(Note: This is a widely circulated commentary by Qiu Pang, but its exact source has not been verified.)
Meow!
The curtain was lifted.

Like a wild beast unleashed, the cat appeared like an orange lightning bolt, rushing swiftly towards the octopus ring.

"ton!"

When the sharp claws were still a very short distance from the octopus ring, the rope was pulled tight, and the cat was pulled to the ground by the cat leash attached to the vest under its armpits. It made a slight, visually elastic sound, and then was reluctantly dragged back by Elliot's hands like a wild boar.

That’s all.

Forget it.

We're not hungry, haha.

"Meow, meow meow, meow!..."

"Does this restaurant keep cats? Why are there so many cats meowing? It sounds really annoying." This was after a brief argument.

The atmosphere at the table became very tense. In an attempt to ease the tension, a string music student sitting at the table called the waiter to add milk to his coffee cup and casually asked a question.

"I hope not, I'm a little allergic to cat fur."

Someone else immediately chimed in.

"It's the cat that the guest behind that curtain brought," the waiter explained.

Everyone ate their own meals and stopped talking.

Finished the meal in a hurry.

It wasn't until it was time to pay the bill that someone said with a smile.

"The cafeteria here is quite expensive."

“Yeah.” Some bystanders probably felt that the conversation couldn’t stay stuck like this. They remembered the video they’d seen online and said, “That Gu Weijing looks like a street performer.”

“He put up a sign that looks like he’s begging, doesn’t he feel ashamed?” Williams said angrily. “I wonder if he can even order food? If he could pull out a Paganini, I’d give him 100 euros.”

"It's definitely possible to pull it, but whether it's audible and whether you dare to listen to it is another matter."

My friend laughed and said, "If he actually manages to poop it out, I reckon I'll have to give him another 200 euros and beg him never to poop it again."

Many of Paganini's pieces are renowned for their extremely complex playing techniques, long chains of notes, various vibratos, and octave changes.

Legend has it that this was because Paganini's fingers were exceptionally large, enabling him to play pieces that ordinary people could never play.

There are many similar legends in art history. Another example is that the pianos of Bach's time had thinner and narrower keys than modern pianos, which allowed him to play more complex melodies with a wider range of keys.

Legends may not be true.

The phrases "Paganini's hands" and "Bach's violin" are more often used to describe the incredible difficulty of playing those incredibly complex and intricate pieces. Whether Paganini's hands were actually structurally different from normal people is unknown; we can't exactly dig the musicians out of the ground to check. But the claim that Bach's violin is a long-standing myth.

The number of keys on 17th-century pianos differs from that of modern pianos; some pianos may have fewer keys, but the overall structure remains the same as today's.

There is no such thing as a "narrow-key piano".

Many of Paganini's pieces are considered to be so challenging that only truly outstanding violin masters are qualified to attempt them; otherwise, the result is often disastrous.

That was a very humorous, expert joke.

Everyone, including Williams' agent, laughed, and the atmosphere suddenly became much more relaxed.

"How could you not know? They weren't just doing performance art there."

"Hey. Don't look down on performance art. Some people can earn way more than us just by playing a piece of music, except for Willie."

"No wonder he was able to hold a solo exhibition at the Louvre. It must cost a lot of money to put on an exhibition, right?"

"With the personal connections of the Elena family, even a monkey could get a solo exhibition in a top art museum. Painting, after all, is all about hype. Once you have fame, even a urinal..."

Williams signed the bill, talking as he prepared to leave.

brush.

The curtain was lifted.

Elliott pushed his wheelchair out from behind the curtain.

"Willie? Please wait a minute, okay?"

People called his name casually.

A group of people stopped and turned to look.

Williams' agent was the first to realize the situation; she recognized the person in the wheelchair almost instantly.

in this world.

In terms of recognizability through a wheelchair, the only person comparable to her is probably Steve Hawking, who could be recognized at a glance even in a crowd.

Clearly, the person they encountered at the restaurant today... was not Professor Hawking.

The agent's expression was priceless; it could only be described as priceless.

There are many wealthy people in Europe.

For some wealthy individuals, their agents may not care about their feelings. To put it bluntly, they may have absolutely no connection and would never see each other again if they met on the street.

Some are different.

Those people who would sign a check for ten million dollars to sponsor a concert hall or music academy.

A bank director who will open an arts foundation, or... Anna Elena.

She walked over quickly.

Reach out your hand.

"Hello, Ms. Elena, I never expected to meet you here."

"Hello."

Anna shook hands with her briefly, then turned to look at Williams.

"Willie, right? Hello, I've heard of you."

Williams was simply jealous of Gu Weijing.

He's not stupid.

It's one thing to brag and talk big with friends at the table, but it's quite another when you actually meet them in person.

He was a little embarrassed.

Few people know that Miss Elena is Gu Weijing's agent.

Williams was primarily uneasy about the "Elena family," which he had mentioned casually earlier.

"Hello, hello, it's nice to meet you."

"Sorry, Willie."

Miss Elena suddenly apologized.

"Uh... what's wrong?" Williams asked, bewildered.

"Oh, I remember now, we're not close enough for you to allow me to call you Willie."

Anna lowered her head, leaving Williams standing there, and while scratching the chin of the cat in her arms, she withdrew her hand and said casually.

Meow.

The cat lying on Anna's lap twitched its whiskers.

It looked at Williams as if he were an idiot.

Awkward, isn't it?

You're dumbfounded, aren't you?

How stupid!

If you had offered the grilled octopus on your plate to the great King Awang long ago, there wouldn't be so many other things to do.
Let's do it then, let's do it then.

They just had to court death.

Now, it's Miss Elena's turn to come out with her cane and knock some sense into your head.

(End of this chapter)