Van Gogh Reborn!

271

The Preliminary Battle (1)

They were shocked when I told them Marso’s proposal.

“Make another pavilion?”

“Yes. We can’t participate in the international pavilion anyway as long as Kim Su-hyuk is the commissioner.”

Even if this issue becomes public, it’s uncertain if we can join the Venice Biennale next year.

And even if Kim Su-hyuk and Choi Kyu-seo step down under public pressure, there’s no guarantee that this won’t happen again as long as they still hold power.

Then it would be better to create a new national pavilion to get a fair chance at the Venice Biennale.

As I persuaded them, Grandpa and Bang Tae-ho agreed that it was necessary.

Grandpa’s words were echoed by Bang Tae-ho.

“We have to keep doing what we planned. Convincing the Venice Biennale board is secondary.”

“They’ll be curious if we suddenly make another pavilion.”

He was conscious of public opinion.

Bang Tae-ho also mentioned the first thing to solve.

“We need a reason to set up a separate Korean pavilion.”

“Hmm.”

On the surface, it was just that the commissioner who was selected through a legitimate process chose the artists, so there needs to be a justification for creating a separate Korean pavilion.

The association that receives subsidies from the state denounced Kim Su-hyuk and Choi Kyu-seo for excluding other artists and taking advantage of their family ties, but they also need a reason to establish a new Korean pavilion.

It wouldn’t resonate with the people or other artists if we made a new one just for Grandpa, me, and Jang Mi-rae to participate.

“The point is to share the opportunity fairly.”

“That’s right.”

The problem was that the association chairman’s family had concentrated authority over the Venice Biennale.

Some might say that there was no big problem in the procedure, but at least from my point of view, the existing method was greatly flawed.

Five out of the nine people who selected the Venice Biennale commissioner were from the association.

Except for the Ministry of Culture’s art policy officer, the other three would have to follow the association chairman’s lead, which led to this mess.

It was also a problem that one commissioner had the authority to appoint the artists.

“The new Korean pavilion will have more than one commissioner. Wouldn’t that make the opportunity more fair?”

The space is limited.

Not everyone can participate.

But if there are more than one commissioner, at least it would prevent the power from being concentrated on a specific group or individual.

“What do you think?”

“I’ll have to ask them directly, but I think the artists would accept it if that’s the condition. And we should select as many participants as possible.”

“Hmm.”

Grandpa and Bang Tae-ho continued their thoughts and made up their minds.

“Let’s meet with Ralph tomorrow. We might have to go to Korea.”

“Yes.”

Marso emphasized how important emotional health was in the first lecture of the art therapy course.

He probably wanted to explain why we had to learn art therapy.

It was quite a shocking lecture for me, who had treated my body and mind separately.

When we feel hurt, stimulated, or threatened, our body secretes elements like adrenaline to protect itself.

This kind of threat or anxiety is called stress.1)

Once we get stressed, hormones are produced that make our heartbeat faster, lower our body temperature, and damage our digestive system.

We may also experience dry mouth or tongue, headache, fatigue, muscle pain, etc. And if the stress is not relieved and persists, our physical growth stops and our reproductive organs shrink.

Marso explained that cortisol, a adrenal cortex hormone, is produced and lowers our immunity, making us vulnerable to viruses, bacteria, and cancer cells.

I was surprised and also wondered if that was why I had been more miserable.

Maybe I couldn’t put down the brush for a moment because it was a way to escape from that stress for a while.

I approached Marso.

“It looks like we’re going to make a new Korean pavilion.”

“What do I care?”

“Thanks to you, Marso.”

“And you hang up the phone like that, knowing that?”

Marso complained that the kids these days who were familiar with SNS, text messages, and voice chats had no phone etiquette.

Unlike the kids these days who were used to telegrams, I had to admit that I didn’t follow Marso’s phone etiquette.

When I heard it, I apologized, realizing that it was right to greet and end properly.

“I’ll do that.”

I snorted.

“Anyway, there’s no need to get worked up over something like an international exhibition.”

“Why not?”

“Do you think you can express something French or Korean as an individual?”

“An individual can’t represent the whole, but they can be a part of it.”

“You know well. That’s all it is.”

Many people recognize my grandfather as a master of Korean painting, but he himself says he doesn’t know Korean painting.

“So I’m trying to find out as many as possible.”

Marso frowned.

“It won’t make much difference if one person becomes ten, but at least there will be more similarities, right?”

“There’s nothing good about doing it with others.”

“It was fun, wasn’t it? Running around the plaza or the Bugrenelli mall. It would be a problem if we had to do it together all the time, but sometimes it’s fun to make something together.”

Marso didn’t answer.

I could tell that he was changing little by little. He was cute when he was embarrassed by this kind of conversation, as if he was aware of it himself.

“So. Are you not going to the international exhibition, Marso?”

“I’m not going.”

“Everyone says that Marso should decorate the French pavilion next year.”

“Who?”

“I saw it on the internet.”

When I searched for Henri Marso on the French art-related community, the Venice Biennale was occasionally mentioned.

“It’s because of them.”

“Them?”

“The French pavilion commissioner is annoying, asking me to join. That’s money talk.”

“Why are you annoyed? Try it. You might make some friends.”

Marso looked like he had stepped on shit.

I wished Marso, who had no friends but me, would be happier, but he looked very displeased.

“I don’t need that.”

“What about me?”

“What?”

“You think you’re friends with Marso. Don’t you need me?”

“…”

His expression changed from stepping on shit to meeting an alien.

“Don’t do that and try it once. You never know.”

“Shut up.”

Marso got up.

It’s a pity, but I can’t force him if he thinks that way. I left the school gate.

“Hey.”

Marso, who was ahead of me, called me.

“I’m going home.”

“Go.”

I got in the car because there was no reason to refuse when he offered me a ride.

“But what about Fabre?”

I didn’t see Blanche Fabre in the art therapy class.

“She was on the attendance list.”

Maybe she’s sick or something.

She said she would tease Marso, but she liked his work more than anyone else. She wouldn’t miss his lecture.

I’ll call her later and ask how she’s doing.

I arrived home in no time.

I couldn’t just let Marso go, so I told him to have some ice cream and he followed me without a word.

Ralph Lupus, my grandfather, and Bang Tae-ho were sitting in the reception room on the first floor, so I greeted them.

“Hello, Lupus.”

“Oh. You’re back from school.”

Lupus greeted me warmly, then looked at Marso with displeasure.

“Mr. Marso.”

“Director Ralph Lupus.”

Lupus shook his hand.

He didn’t take off his gloves, but Marso shook hands with someone else.

He must have a close relationship or Lupus must be one of the few people Marso respects.

Marso bowed his head slightly to my grandfather and exchanged greetings with Bang Tae-ho by looking him in the eye.

He wasn’t polite, but he looked much better than before.

“We were talking about the establishment of the Korean pavilion.”

Bang Tae-ho explained the situation.

He seemed interested, as it was his own proposed solution.

Marso looked at Lupus for an answer.

“The board won’t oppose it too much. But it’s not without problems.”

“Problems?”

“It’s hard to apply it right away to the biennale next year, even if we hurry. And.”

“Is it because of other countries?”

“Yes. Italy has been operating two venues as the host country, but if Korea opens two venues, there might be a fairness issue.”

I hadn’t thought of that.

That was why grandfather and Bang Tae-ho looked unhappy.

“Ko Su-yeol and Jang Mi-rae, they have enough reasons to participate. Even if it’s only for next year.”

Marso raised another objection.

He meant that a one-time event would be enough to send grandfather and Jang Mi-rae.

“That might be convincing, but it seems that Su-yeol wants something different.”

As Rufus said, grandfather and I wanted the selection process to be more fair.

“How about doing it as an event for next year and changing it in the meantime?”

Bang Tae-ho agreed with me as I finished.

“I think it’s better to do as Hun says. It’s better than increasing the number of venues and facing resistance. And isn’t it unpleasant to bring up domestic issues abroad?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

Grandfather nodded.

I wanted to participate in the biennale next year, so I had to seize the opportunity, and use the time to fix the Korean Art Association.

“What about this idea?”

It seemed that we had some direction, but Rufus cautiously opened his mouth.

“There was a talk of opening an exhibition hall with the theme of harmony. They decided to create a global hall in the national hall and invite artists without being bound by nationality.”

Grandfather, Bang Tae-ho, Marso and I listened quietly to what Rufus was saying.

“But there were fewer applicants than expected. They all wanted to join their own national hall or participate as individuals, so there was a pending issue. How about using that?”

No one gave a positive opinion, so Rufus added more.

“It’s burdensome to open another hall anyway.”

“You mean that Hun and I should work with someone else?”

“Yes. It would be great if Marso here could help us.”

Grandfather, Marso and I looked at each other.

The atmosphere was strange.

“I think it would be very interesting. It’s a good idea, isn’t it? You also have a reason to open your own hall.”

That was true.

We needed a reason to open our own hall until the corruption of the Korean Art Association was exposed.

“Can we do that?”

“Of course. The national hall doesn’t have to stick to the nationality. Painter Baek Dong-joon also worked in the German hall.”

Bang Tae-ho explained that there were many cases of artists with different nationalities working in other countries.

“It’s a good thing, but. He’s a busy friend.”

Grandfather said, looking at Marso.

“It doesn’t have to be Marso.”

Any artist with some recognition would be a topic.

Francis Bacon, Sarah Georgia, Nicola Patti, Hao Ren, or…

“How about Banksy? He’s a person who hides his origin, so it fits the purpose. And he would be a hot topic.”

I came up with a great idea.

“Yeah. It would be perfect if he accepts.”

Rufus agreed and grandfather pursed his lips and nodded.

“It’s really good. He has an SNS account, so we can contact him. Rufus, is this really possible?”

“Sure.”

“No.”

Just as the mood was getting better.

Marso poured cold water.

Everyone turned their heads in surprise, and he hardened his attitude.

“I’d rather work with him than that guy.”

“They want to take Marso from the French hall, don’t they? You don’t have to force yourself.”

“It’s not a force.”

The term stress was coined and introduced by physiologist Walter Cannon in 1915.