I Was Michelangelo in My Past Life

August 1501, three months after Michelangelo had returned to Florence.

The city council of Florence made a request to Michelangelo—to sculpt a piece of marble that had been abandoned in the middle of the Florence Cathedral's workshop for 40 years.

This was an old and worn-out commission, as many had attempted and failed before Michelangelo.

Since 40 years prior, countless sculptors had been asked to carve a David out of that very marble. Among them was none other than Leonardo da Vinci himself. Nearly every sculptor in Florence had likely encountered this commission at some point.

So why, after 40 years, did this aged commission reach Michelangelo?

Because everyone else had either rejected it or given up.

Those who declined said the marble was of too poor a quality. They were certain no decent sculpture could come from it.

Those who didn't decline boldly took it on, only to damage the surface and eventually give up, saying it was impossible to sculpt.

Thus, the marble, never having found the right sculptor, made its way to Michelangelo.

That's how this commission ended up in the hands of 26-year-old Michelangelo.

And, as you might have guessed—since we now get to see the David—Michelangelo didn't refuse.

Upon receiving the commission, he looked at the marble and said:

"I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free."

For three years and six months, Michelangelo refined that coarse, flawed block of marble, scarred by others' failures, into a masterpiece of its time—David.

The fact that he created such a monumental work using only a hammer and chisel speaks for itself.

(Excerpted from a blog post recounting a lecture by Yang Seon-gu, author of Lessons with a Sculptor and a first-generation sculptor.)

A blue night.

Under yellow lights surrounding the Bloom Art Museum, Kang-seok breathed in the scent of flowers as he observed the old man.

The old man had such a distinctive appearance that Kang-seok felt sure he'd seen him somewhere before. That familiar yet unusual outfit and face... Kang-seok racked his brain.

It wasn't a look you'd easily forget. Narrowing his eyes, Kang-seok studied the old man.

Then—

"...Are you lost?"

The old man looked at him as if he feared he might've intruded unnecessarily—ready to disappear if he was interrupting.

Kang-seok hesitated. Technically, he wasn't lost—his phone map was working—but he also wasn't entirely not lost. Unsure what to say and not wanting to be rude, he finally lifted his head and replied:

"I'm not exactly lost."

Just then, the billboard behind the old man lit up brightly. It showed a person who looked exactly like him, gazing up at the sky.

[Yang Seon-gu Exhibition]

[On the Devalued]

So that's where Kang-seok had seen him.

Yang Seon-gu.

Kang-seok recalled now: Yang Seon-gu—first-generation sculptor and considered a godfather of Korean sculpture.

"Yang... Seon-gu?"

Kang-seok muttered it aloud before realizing.

Yang Seon-gu widened his eyes in surprise.

"You know who I am, young man?"

He was in his 80s. For someone so young to recognize him—that was unexpected.

At least, from Yang Seon-gu's perspective.

Realizing he had spoken his thoughts out loud, Kang-seok turned his head, ears reddening. Thank goodness it was dark and his blushing wasn't visible.

"Anyone who dreams of becoming a sculptor would know you."

It wasn't flattery. It was simply true.

Entering the 20th century, the world of sculpture changed dramatically.

It left behind centuries of drawing inspiration from the human form and began focusing on the essence of materials.

Wood was wood, metal was metal, stone was stone.

Led by Brâncuși and his followers, this trend emphasized sculpting works that retained the raw qualities of each material.

It became almost compulsory to follow this path of abstraction. Without printed explanations, people couldn't even understand most sculptures anymore.

As a result, sculptures began to lose their intuitive emotional impact, and people stopped appreciating them—even those displayed in public spaces.

And then, Yang Seon-gu emerged.

He was a sculptor who confronted abstraction head-on.

"Abstraction? Nonsense. Haven't you heard the saying: pretty rice cakes taste better?"

Intuition.

That was the path Yang Seon-gu pursued in sculpture.

He walked against the grain, favoring figurative sculpture. Drawing inspiration from the human form, he resembled the sculptors of the medieval era.

How remarkable, to pursue figurative sculpture in an age obsessed with abstraction.

"Young man, you're quite the smooth talker."

Yang Seon-gu chuckled, saying no amount of flattery could resurrect a has-been like himself.

Kang-seok shook his head. He didn't know Yang Seon-gu because he was famous.

"No, sir. You're Master Jeong Byeong-kwon's teacher. How could I not know you?"

Yang Seon-gu was Jeong Byeong-kwon's mentor.

This was well known among sculpture students at Cheonghwa Arts High School.

It was said that Jeong secured a full-time position—unlike fellow alumni who remained part-time lecturers—thanks in part to his connection to Yang Seon-gu.

Positions in sculpture were scarce, even more so at Korea's top arts high school. When news spread of an opening in sculpture, competition was fierce.

Jeong, with only modest talent, landing the job? Many attributed it to Yang Seon-gu.

And here Yang Seon-gu was, right in front of Kang-seok.

"Hm? You know Byeong-kwon too?"

"Y-Yes, sir."

Yang Seon-gu looked surprised. And now that he looked closely, the school uniform Kang-seok wore was from Cheonghwa Arts High School.

He himself had helped design both the old and new versions—he would recognize it anywhere.

To recognize him and know he was Jeong's mentor? Yang Seon-gu stroked his beard.

There was only one type of student who would know such things.

"You must be a sculpture major at Cheonghwa, yes?"

"Yes… How did you know?"

"Oh, I have my ways."

With a warm smile, Yang Seon-gu studied Kang-seok.

Why this student had wandered all the way to the Bloom Museum so late at night, he didn't know. But perhaps this was a budding connection.

Yang Seon-gu nodded slightly. His eyes moved to the name tag on Kang-seok's chest.

Kang Seok.

He quietly mouthed the name.

He had already been considering attending the exhibition three months from now—but maybe now there was one more person worth seeing.

"I'll be looking forward to it."

"Sorry?"

"Oh, nothing. Anyway, you don't seem to be lost, so I'll be on my way."

Yang Seon-gu turned and strolled off.

He walked with grace—like someone returning to his own studio.

Toward the apprentice he knew would be waiting for him.

He disappeared with ease, like a spirit returning to the mountain.

...

And Kang-seok, watching him vanish like some mountain sage, lifted his head.

The direction Yang Seon-gu had gone matched the one on his phone map.

Late at night.

The sky now carried more black than blue. Kang-seok had taken some time, wheeling his bike around to get here.

But it didn't matter.

"Take your time. There's someone who wants to meet you. Really—no rush."

That's what Jeong Byeong-kwon had told him.

Now, after circling around, Kang-seok stood in front of a corridor.

A sign ahead marked the space—it had to be the destination.

Would that be his new studio?

Kang-seok narrowed his eyes. It definitely looked more like an exhibition hall than a workspace.

Could he really use that space?

This was the Bloom Museum, run by the powerful San Gang Group. They surely received countless exhibition requests every year.

To have a spot reserved here felt surreal.

Just then, someone stepped out of what appeared to be the studio. Even from a distance, Kang-seok recognized the silhouette.

"Teacher...!"

"Hm? Ah, Seok!"

Jeong Byeong-kwon approached with a welcoming stride. With the hall otherwise empty, their voices echoed.

"Perfect timing. I just finished explaining everything to the teacher."

"...The teacher?"

Wasn't he the teacher?

Kang-seok blinked. Jeong led him into the space as the door opened.

And what Kang-seok saw—

Pure white.

Not just the marble.

The entire exhibition space that would now serve as a studio was white. The hammers, chisels, and tools—white. The desk—white. Everything.

Kang-seok winced at the brightness. With his acute sense of color, the many shades of white splitting into distinct tones was a fascinating sight.

Blinking as he entered the studio, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust.

That's when—

"What is a young man doing here?"

"Huh? Teacher?"

There stood Yang Seon-gu again, dressed in silk of jade-green hue, looking startled at first—then gradually more understanding, and finally, somewhat exasperated as he turned to Jeong.

"...You gave the marble to your student?"

He had handed that enormous slab—not to a university student, but to a high schooler?

Yang Seon-gu looked at Jeong as if to say, "Are you serious?"

Did you ignore it because, like me, you just couldn't be bothered, or is he really talented enough to deserve a whole block of marble? Yang Seon-gu stared at Jeong Byeong-gwon, practically demanding an answer.

"Seok-ah. Why don't you look around for a bit? I think I still have a few things to discuss with Mr. Yang."

"Huh? Oh, sure. I'll do that."

Jeong Byeong-gwon, worried that something impolite might be said, watched as Kang-seok walked away.

But Kang-seok headed toward the desk much faster than Jeong Byeong-gwon had expected. He'd been eyeing the marble and the desk since he walked in—seemed like he was genuinely interested. Good. Jeong Byeong-gwon nodded slightly and waited until Kang-seok moved a bit farther before slowly turning his gaze.

"Why'd you give it to him?"

He was asking why a whole slab of marble had been handed over to a high school student. From what he'd overheard, it had even been given for free. Unless the kid had real talent, Jeong Byeong-gwon wouldn't have done that.

As expected, Jeong Byeong-gwon started by explaining how talented Kang-seok was.

"Sir, I handed it over because I genuinely think he's amazing. His 3D sculpting skills are incredible."

"How incredible are we talking?"

"I was planning to show you soon anyway. Once you see it for yourself, you'll agree. He's worth giving that entire block of marble to."

"Sounds like he's pretty extraordinary."

"Yes. I really do think Kang-seok is remarkable."

"Even so, marble and 3D sculpting are two different things, no? It's already done, but does he even know how to work with marble?"

Marble sculpting wasn't something covered in high school art curriculums. It just wasn't. Working with stone like that was something only university students might get to experience.

So, logically, he shouldn't be able to handle marble. Then was it really okay to give such an expensive material—and even the entire workspace—to a kid who probably couldn't even use it? Regardless of the good first impression, Yang Seon-gu had no choice but to run the mental math.

Still, Jeong Byeong-gwon nodded with a confidence that suggested he had no doubts.

"Of course. When I asked him if he knew how to handle marble…"

"When you asked him...?" Jeong Byeong-gwon paused, then looked at Yang Seon-gu with a startled expression.

— "Marble…? Why marble all of a sudden?"

— "How big is it?"

— "Yeah, that's pretty big."

— "Did you already cut it?"

— "That's a relief."

— "Then how about you just give me the whole thing uncut? I'll pay for it."

Come to think of it, Kang-seok never actually said he could sculpt marble.

...He can, right?

Jeong Byeong-gwon glanced nervously toward Kang-seok—who was now walking toward them holding something.

A grinder and a gas mask.

Tools Yang Seon-gu had prepared to make working easier. Why those now? Jeong Byeong-gwon looked at Kang-seok, puzzled.

Then—

As if to protect his face from the white dust created when grinding marble, Kang-seok lifted the mask and asked,

"How do you use this?"

"Huh?"

"Hm?"

Asking how to use what was arguably the most basic tool?

Jeong Byeong-gwon and Yang Seon-gu exchanged a silent look in mid-air.

He… does know how to sculpt marble, right?

Their eyes were silently questioning one another.

A little later.

Wearing the gas mask and holding the grinder, Kang-seok stared intently at a smoothly cut slab of marble, shaped like a bar of stainless-steel soap.

He had just finished getting an explanation about the unfamiliar tools on the desk, including the grinder and the mask.

— "I carry it with me when I want to feel the sculptures I look at... why don't you give it a try?"

The marble had been provided by Yang Seon-gu.

He had so much of it at home that he handed it over without a second thought. The scent of wealth was unmistakable. Kang-seok didn't decline.

And that's how the now-ground marble came to lie beneath the grinder.

'This is kind of nerve-wracking.'

He tightened his grip on the grinder's handle.

It wasn't like he didn't know what a grinder was. But he had never actually used one himself.

His father, a furniture maker, occasionally used one, but mostly dealt with pre-cut wood or focused on refurbishing, so his use of grinders had been rare.

'He probably didn't let me touch it because it's dangerous.'

Behind him, Yang Seon-gu and Jeong Byeong-gwon watched nervously, worried about safety.

For the first time in his life, Kang-seok laid his hands on a grinder.

It felt like a thrilling leap forward.

In his past life, he had created sculptures using only hammers and chisels.

Click.

After reviewing the safety precautions again, Kang-seok turned on the grinder.

The loud sound didn't scare him.

Like all tools, as long as you understood how to use them, there was no danger.

Then, the spinning blade touched the marble.

Fine dust scattered like the fizz from an exploding soda can.

"...!"

Kang-seok's eyes went wide. It was nothing like striking with a hammer.

It was soft—like slicing tofu.

Did I really just cut through stone?

While he stood stunned by the vibration pulsing through his fingertips, a chunk of marble fell to the floor.

"...What the...?"

Kang-seok's eyes trembled.

This was a revolution.

All thoughts of finishing his work with hammer and chisel again were swept away in that cloud of white dust.

Who was it that said technology is what truly sets people free?

He was filled with the same awe as a housewife trying a washing machine for the first time.

"Haha..."

Kang-seok's lips curled into a smile.

His eyes, touched by revolution, gleamed with something close to enchantment.

Then, still holding the humming grinder in one hand, he slowly stepped toward the marble he originally intended to sculpt.

Jeong Byeong-gwon and Yang Seon-gu watched, visibly uneasy.

"Is he... going to be okay?"

"...Probably."

Kang-seok didn't hear them.

He only heard the marble calling to him.

More precisely, the being inside the marble, begging to be set free.

— Bang!

— Bang!

It was the sound of something being struck with a hammer.

Rhythmic like a metronome, yet thunderous like the forge of a god.

Kang-seok brought the grinder to the marble.

"I'll let you out now."

"Seok-ah, wait—!"

Jeong Byeong-gwon stepped forward in a panic. That marble hadn't even been sketched on yet. Unlike painting, marble couldn't be redone. One wrong cut and it was over.

"Young man!"

Yang Seon-gu, realizing what was happening, also reached out. But lost in his trance, Kang-seok didn't stop.

Vrrrrrrooom!

The grinder slammed mercilessly into the marble.

.

.

.

[Q. Miraenae Daily, Lee Ji-hye: Have you ever imagined what would've happened if Michelangelo Buonarroti—who sculpted day and night—had been given a grinder?]

[A. Park Ji-yeop: (laughs) I've never imagined it. But a grinder? That's an interesting thought. If that had happened, Michelangelo wouldn't be remembered as one of the great Renaissance artists. He would've been the Renaissance.]

[Q. That impressive?]

[A. That impressive. Honestly, if you gave a grinder to that sculpture-obsessed maniac, the mountains of Carrara might've vanished. It would've been a crime.