Van Gogh Reborn!

270

Meeting in a Strange Place (3)

When we arrived at the meeting place, Margo greeted us with a gloomy expression on his face.

“Ralph.”

“Seoyul.”

The person who hugged Grandpa warmly was Ralph Rufus, the director of the Venice Biennale and the head of the Haywood Gallery, a public art museum in England.

He looked dignified with his charcoal-gray hair and beard.

“You seem to grow bigger every time I see you.”

“I have to live healthy. Are you still riding your bike?”

“I gave it to my grandson. He said he wanted to rest his joints.”

Ralph Rufus exchanged greetings with Grandpa and then squatted down to meet my eyes.

“You’re Hoon. Nice to meet you.”

“Hello, Rufus.”

He was skinny, but his handshake was strong. His eyes were lively and I liked him.

“You’re seeing a warm world.”

I had heard many stories about my paintings, but this was the most pleasing one.

It meant that he resonated with the works I had presented so far.

I thanked him and sat down.

Ralph Rufus ordered a tea with milk in it, following Grandpa’s recommendation, and I ordered an apple juice with carbonation.

“So, what did you talk about with Simon, the chairman of the association?”

“He was planning something interesting.”

Ralph Rufus smiled.

“He wants to expand the Art Nouveau competition. It was well received, so it’s not unreasonable.”

I didn’t know what he meant by expanding the already international Art Nouveau competition.

It was hard enough to exhibit various works fairly at the time, and it didn’t seem like he meant to increase the number of participants.

“Expand? How do you mean?”

Grandpa asked the same question.

“He seems to want to make it a completely independent event.”

The Art Nouveau competition was an entrance process to participate in the special exhibition of the SNBA Salon.

But last year, the Art Nouveau competition attracted more attention and made more profit.

SNBA seemed to want to take advantage of this opportunity.

“He seems to want to approach it more entertainingly.”

“Like what?”

“Like a live broadcast with real-time voting.”

Money follows where people gather, and art blooms where there is money. It’s an immutable law of antiquity.

Artists who don’t have to worry about their livelihood can freely do art as their own subject, but those who can’t need at least some compensation.

“I see.”

Grandpa nodded without adding anything else, probably because he agreed with that.

“By the way, the national pavilion said your name wasn’t on the list. What happened?”

“Huh?”

“The Venice Biennale. Are you taking a break this time?”

Neither Grandpa nor I understood what Ralph was saying.

“I haven’t even heard the news of recruitment yet. What do you mean?”

Ralph Rufus noticed something strange and showed us the list of participants in the Korean pavilion.

‘Choi Kyu-seo?’

It was a name that sounded familiar.

What was strange was that there was no one I knew well, like Grandpa, me, Jang Mi-rae, or Seo In-ho.

Only Choi Kyu-seo.

It was weird. I didn’t know all the Korean artists, but still.

“That Kyu-seo guy…”

“There seems to be a problem. But Kyu-seo was your student, wasn’t he?”

Grandpa nodded.

Now that I think about it, he was the person I met at Grandpa’s retirement ceremony. He didn’t seem to get along well with Jang Mi-rae.

“Can they decide this unilaterally?”

"The Korean pavilion of the Venice Biennale is paid by the association. The artists are also selected by the commissioners of each country, but I don’t know who it is this year."1)

Grandpa raised his head and asked who was in charge of the Korean pavilion of the Venice Biennale this year (commissioner: Commissioner).

“It was Kim, for sure.”

When Ralph Rufus showed us the list, Grandpa groaned.

“Why?”

“Kim Su-hyuk. Kyu-seo’s husband.”

It turned out that the chairman of the Korean Art Association and his family were using the Korean pavilion of the Venice Biennale as they pleased.

“So I can’t participate?”

“I don’t think I can participate as a national pavilion. Is there another way?”

Grandpa asked Ralph Rufus for advice, but there was no solution.

“National pavilion operations are unique to each country, so I have no way to help. It’s a shame.”

Grandpa, Jang Mi-rae, and I had a good opportunity to decorate the Korean pavilion, but it was ruined before it even started.

“How about participating as an individual? I’ll try my best on that side.”

Many art festivals have escaped from nationalism and regionalism, but the Venice Biennale is especially highlighted by the national pavilion exhibitions.

You can tell by the fact that there are separate national pavilions with their own commissioners and international exhibitions (main exhibitions) where the director-general plans and invites the artists.

Among them, Grandpa, I, and Jang Mi-rae didn’t get a chance to work at the national pavilion.

Even though it was the commissioner’s exclusive authority, Grandpa and Jang Mi-rae, who had expressed their desire to participate in the Venice Biennale national pavilion, couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

Fortunately, Ralph Rufus invited us, so we could participate in the international exhibition.

“That’s what we have to do.”

Grandpa looked lonely from the side.

I came back home and heard the rest of the story with Bang Taeho.

Grandpa and Jang Mi-rae had been telling the association that they wanted to participate in the Venice Biennale Korean pavilion exhibition since last year.

At that time, the commissioner had not been selected yet, so they also said that they would cooperate with the commissioner chosen by the nine members.

But they only got a reply that they would consider it, and they didn’t receive any guidance on how the work was progressing.

Bang Taeho, who heard the story, was also incredulous.

He snorted and got serious.

“This is ridiculous.”

“It is. If we let it go, this will keep happening in the future.”

I agree with Grandpa a hundred times.

Bang Taeho clenched his fist as if he had made up his mind.

“What should we do?”

“We have to publicize it. First, we collect the damage cases and provide sources to the reporters.”

“It won’t be easy.”

Grandpa approached cautiously.

“They have their hands everywhere. The national exhibition issue also went unnoticed.”

He was talking about the past incident where Jang Mi-rae, who was a strong candidate for the grand prize at the Korean Art Exhibition, was pushed out by Choi Kyuseo.

“It will be different this time. Even if they are not related workers, there are more people who are interested in art, so there must be a way.”

Grandpa nodded his head after pondering over Bang Taeho’s words.

“Actually, if it comes out that Kim Soohyuk selected the artists that fit his intention, there is no problem.”

I heard that the Venice Biennale Korean pavilion is where the commissioner appoints the artists.

The commissioner is selected by two ex officio members (the secretary-general of the Korean Art Association, the art policy officer of the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism) and seven art members.

They didn’t violate the rules with their power, so he wanted to make sure they wouldn’t be counterattacked.

“We have to pinpoint the problem. It’s not something else, it’s something that the national budget goes into.”

Bang Taeho pointed out that there is a high possibility of corruption in the process of Kim Soohyuk being selected as the commissioner.

And inviting only his wife Choi Kyuseo after being appointed as the commissioner is a clear problem.

Grandpa also agreed with a nod.

“Hmm. … I’ll talk to the school. You.”

“Yes. Lee Inho will write an article for sure because he is friendly with Hoon. And Kim Ji-woo from Yehwa too.”

Speaking of which, I haven’t heard from Kim Ji-woo lately.

I haven’t contacted her since the Dallida Square and the Bugrenelli Shopping Mall.

I wondered if something was wrong, and I got a message from Kim Ji-woo for the first time in a long time.

“Kim Ji-woo reporter is coming to Paris tomorrow.”

“Really?”

“Should I tell her to come home?”

“Yes. It will definitely help.”

While Grandpa and Bang Taeho were having a more detailed conversation, I went up to my room and called Kim Ji-woo.

-Hoon!

“Hello.”

-How have you been?

“Yes. How about you, reporter?”

-Well. A little awkward? Hahaha.

She seemed to have had some trouble.

She’s a healthy person who can laugh even when she goes through bad things.

-I got a job in Europe this time. I’m going to look around for a house and stuff.

“What about Yehwa?”

-It was a bit difficult. But now I can write what I want without worrying about it, so maybe it’s a good thing?

She has a positive attitude.

“It will definitely get better.”

-Thank you. So? Can I see you tomorrow?

“Yes. Can we meet at my place? Grandpa said you can stay in the guest room if you have nowhere else to go.”

-Really? Really?

“Of course.”

Kim Ji-woo screams over the smartphone. I don’t know why he’s so happy.

-Then see you tomorrow. I think I’ll arrive in the evening.

“Okay. Drive safely.”

-Okay~ Thank you!

After finishing the call, I wonder what I can do and call Marso.

-Why.

“Can I see you for a moment?”

-How long.

“Are you busy?”

-…Damn inspiration. I have to teach tomorrow too.

It’s an advanced class on art therapy, and he knows a lot.

“It’s about the Venice Biennale. I thought Marso might have a good idea.”

-Venice?

I briefly explain the situation and Marso curses softly over the smartphone.

-It must be like a pig farm. They keep coming back even if you kill them.

I agree.

-That aside. Don’t you just have to participate in the international exhibition? Do you have anything else you want to do at the Korean pavilion?

“I can decorate the whole exhibition hall.”

It’s a collaborative work with the commissioner and other artists, so I can’t do whatever I want, but I think it’s not bad to work within the framework of cooperation.

I learned the joy of working together from my experience at Dallida Square and Bugrenelli Shopping Mall.

I can make works that I never thought of by myself.

-Make more national pavilions.

“…Yes?”

-Make it.

Sometimes I can’t follow the conversation with Marso.

This is one of those times.

“What do you mean?”

-Italy has two, right? The Italian pavilion and the Venetian pavilion. It’s a done deal if Goseul Yeol Kyung and Ralph Rufus persuade the board. What are you worried about?

“….”

I’m a bit hesitant about the method I never imagined, but I can’t just say it’s impossible if there’s a precedent.

If I can convince the Venice Biennale board as Marso said.

I’m with my respected grandpa and popular writer Jang Mi-rae, so maybe the Venice Biennale board will accept it positively.

“That’s awesome.”

-You just realized that.

I hang up and go down to the second floor where grandpa and Bang Taeho are.

The organizations and names that appear in the work are not related to real organizations and people.