The Best Actor in the Vase of Meiyu

Chapter 973: Water is blocked

Banksy is the most famous street graffiti artist in London, and soon became the world's number one street graffiti artist, at least in terms of commercial value. He made street graffiti as popular as traditional paintings and sold them at sky-high prices.

But what’s interesting is that the artists who have been doing street graffiti in London for many years often don’t like Banksy. They think Banksy is an opportunist who is good at seizing hot spots and promoting himself. From the perspective of graffiti itself, Banksy’s works lack real artistic value.

In 2003, Banksy was considered a newly emerging artist with a certain influence. Not long ago, he held his first solo art exhibition in a warehouse in East London.

Anson was surprised that Nora was also interested in street art, "So, do you like it?"

Nora: "No."

Be crisp and to the point.

Anson couldn't help but smile. He thought Nora would be polite and at least show some respect on a public relations level.

However, it did not.

Nora was very frank. “My child, art is essentially a commercial activity. Although I don’t want to erase the cultural value of art itself, this is a cruel reality in today’s market. Obviously, Banksy understands this. He is an excellent product manager.”

Anson, “but not a great artist?”

Nora raised her eyebrows slightly and said nothing.

Anson already knew the answer. "An excellent product manager is also worthy of recognition. At least, he can guarantee success. I believe that many people in Hollywood think that I am just an excellent product manager."

Nora was stunned for a moment, then chuckled, "Oh, you are more than just a product manager. If you are just a product manager, then you are wasting your talent."

Anson raised the soda in his hand and saluted. "I will keep it in mind. But now, this product manager may be able to give you a little inspiration."

Nora looked at Anson and listened attentively.

Anson did not keep the audience in suspense and pointed to the painting in front. "I have an idea. Why not add a zero after the price and put it at the entrance as the first painting? Then put a red dot on it and add my name."

The "red dot" often means that the item has been sold; as for the signature, some people like it and some don't, it's all up to you.

Nora understood immediately.

In a young artist's exhibition, if a well-known collector is interested, or if several collectors are competing for a painting at the same time, the market will easily be hyped up, just like an auction.

It is for this reason that top collectors often hire agents to go to art exhibitions or auctions to avoid exposing their targets in advance.

But on the other hand, if a collector wants to raise the price, he will often put his name out there to attract the attention of collectors.

Now, Anson is ready to do the same thing and stimulate the market with the "Anson-Wood" name.

But the point is, "Kid, your name may work in Hollywood, but it may not work in the collectibles market, and I don't want to discourage you."

Nora's face was full of tenderness.

Anson's eyes were filled with a smile. "Anyway, there's no harm in trying, right?"

Nora laughed too, "Of course. So, do you have any other suggestions?"

Anson stopped giving orders when he saw that things were going well. On a professional level, Nora had her strengths. Anson believed that his mother did not need an outsider like him to give orders. "Yes. May I have the honor of inviting you to dinner tonight?"

Nora turned to look at the street outside. The crowd was still growing. "Are you sure? I think tonight might not be the best time."

Anson, "Don't worry, James Bond always has a plan B."

Nora pursed her lips and said, "Then I will express my expectation."

……

Lucas Wood looked a little skeptical:
Looking at the dense crowds of people in front of him, filling both sides of the street, like an expanding Coke bubble that is about to overflow, the New York streets, which were not spacious to begin with, became even more cramped and narrow. He always felt that he might be swallowed up at any time. He suspected that he had taken the wrong road.

In New York, downtown is still a mess and crowded place from centuries ago. Many roads are not carefully planned and named, and the house numbers cannot be read in order. If you are not careful, you may turn into the wrong alley. So, what happened in front of you? Did Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez go out again?

But Lucas didn't care or was curious, not at all concerned.

He needs to find a street sign or house number, reorient himself, and get back on track.

He happened to be in New York on a two-week business trip, but a phone call turned him into a driver. He finished his afternoon meeting and rushed to the East Village without even having time to change into light clothes.

etc--

It seemed to be here, he had not taken the wrong road, but the crowd was too dense to see clearly, and he could not be completely sure for a while.

Until he saw the gallery.

only……

There are three floors inside and three floors outside, and the streets on both sides of the gallery entrance are already packed. It would not be out of place to call this scene a movie premiere.

So, what are they gathering here for?
Lucas looked left and right, trying to find Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez, or Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston. It took a long time for him to finally come up with a bold guess:

Aren't these people here for Anson?

But why?
Lucas was puzzled. Did these people have nothing to do after eating? Why did they come here to watch Anson? Isn't New York so busy that there is not even time to stop and watch the excitement?

Thoughts are surging in my mind.

That dark face became even darker at this moment. Now he finally understood why Anson "called for help". He thought Anson was going to treat him to a meal.

Rustling, rustling.

The eyes of the street crowd are all focused on the black Bentley in front of them. Its streamlined lines reflect the sparse sunlight over Manhattan. There is not a trace of other colors on it. It is low-key and restrained, faintly revealing a sense of noble luxury. It is not ostentatious or exaggerated, but it easily grabs attention.

Everyone was talking about it, and all kinds of speculations were flying around.

then.

The car slowly stopped in front of the gallery entrance. The discussions and noise paused for just a second, as if everyone held their breath for a moment.

All eyes are on you.

The car door opened and a man in a jet-black suit appeared.

Black suit, black shirt, black shoes.

His tall and straight figure is perfectly wrapped in a custom-made black suit. His cold and aloof aura makes people dare not look directly at his face. They can only sneak a glance at his jawline that is as straight and sharp as a glacier.

The momentum is compelling.

"…Who is this?"

“Is he an actor too?”

"She's probably a model."

"Is it a coincidence that he's here?"

"Could it be the driver?"

The whispered discussions, mixed with the burning gazes, were boiling in the air; any slight disturbance could make the whole street surge.

(End of this chapter)