Van Gogh Reborn!

289

The Scoundrel (9)

Blanche Fabre and Vida Rabani gasped at the painting in front of them.

It was the title of the painting, and also the distance between the earth and the sun.

The canvas was dark as pitch, except for the maple leaves hanging from the branches that shone like the sunset.

It was almost dusk, so the back of the leaves should have been shadowed and the background should have been tinted with the evening glow, but it was the opposite.

Vida Rabani couldn’t understand what it meant.

But without knowing it, he felt a stir in his heart at the sight of the brightly colored maple leaves.

He remembered the sunset of the day when he walked home with his mother after she finished her work, when she was still healthy.

The maple leaves that glowed in red, yellow, and sometimes white were indescribably sad.

She recalled the days when she spent time alone until her father came to pick her up.

She would sit on the school playground and watch the insects crawling on the ground, and before she knew it, the shadows grew longer.

Her father would ask her if she liked the insects so much, but the truth was, she was waiting for his shadow.

Tears welled up in Fabre’s eyes.

Unable to control his emotions, Vida Rabani wiped his tears repeatedly.

When the two friends showed their tears, Ko Hun, who was initially surprised, brought them tissues.

“It’s good.”

Blanche Fabre wiped around her eyes and said.

“It’s the first time I cried from seeing a painting.”

“Me too.”

Vida Rabani agreed.

“Marso’s paintings are so enviable and cool, but Hoon’s painting is something warm.”

Vida Rabani was a fervent fan of Henri Marso.

The hero’s works were so amazing that they made the boy’s heart beat.

On the other hand, Ko Hun’s works made him think of something. Not the memory of the experience, but the emotion he experienced.

“Hoon is a colorist.”

Ko Hun smiled softly and shared chocolates with his friends.

“I think I did well. I worked really hard.”

“How?”

At Fabre’s question, Ko Hun thought of the 17 practice pieces he had done.

He couldn’t find the color he wanted, so he decided to layer the paint after repeating the painting.

“I layered the paint. It came out naturally as I did it, and it turned out better than what I intended.”

“How did you layer the paint?”

Rabani asked.

“Dry and apply. Or crumble it and paint it when it’s more dry. I failed a lot and got one right.”

Rabani looked at again.

He was amazed to think that the depth he felt from the maple leaves was the result of repeating the work of painting and drying the paint.

“What does the title mean?”

“It’s the distance between the earth and the sun.”

“Oh.”

“Even though they’re so far apart, they can resemble each other. I thought that was cool.”

Vida Rabani nodded.

“Shall we go down?”

Blanche Fabre put the chocolate in her mouth and got up from her seat.

They had spent an hour eating snacks and sharing their weekly stories when they arrived home, so Ko Hun and Rabani were puzzled.

“I want to draw.”

Jang Mi-rae, an assistant professor of painting at Korea University of Arts, was troubled by her own painting.

She didn’t like it.

She crossed her arms and tilted her head, looking at it from a distance and trying to sort out her thoughts, but she couldn’t come up with a good solution.

“Hmm. No.”

Jang Mi-rae put down the canvas.

She hadn’t been able to draw a satisfying picture since she burned everything at last year’s exhibition, but she wasn’t impatient at all.

She still loved painting.

And she believed that someday the muse would come, as it always had, if she worked hard.

Jang Mi-rae wanted to change her mood, so she turned on Petrushka by Gao Wang, her favorite pianist, and put water in the coffee pot.

When the water started to boil, someone came to her studio.

It was Inari, her junior and assistant at the university.

“Oh my. Oh my.”

“Are you here? Coffee?”

“Coffee? What is this? It looks like a pigsty.”

“What’s the big deal?”

Inari frowned at the overflowing recycling bin and trash can.

She took off her coat and tried to clean up the mess, but Jang Mi-rae stopped her.

“Just leave it. I’ll do it later.”

“When later? It gets worse every time I come.”

“After the Venice Biennale submission?”

“That’s half a year later!”

“Hahaha!”

Jang Mi-rae had no choice but to empty the bin and the can with Inari.

They washed their hands and sat down with fresh coffee.

Inari looked around the studio full of all kinds of junk and comforted herself that she should be glad there was a place to sit.

Jang Mi-rae was Inari’s most respected senior.

She was admired by her students as a professor and loved by the world as an artist.

But as a person, she was very lazy.

She was usually so enviable that anyone would want to be like her, but when she got into her work, she became a different person.

Inari glanced at the works scattered around the studio and opened her mouth.

“I’ve always wondered.”

“What?”

“How can you be so lazy and yet work so hard on your paintings?”

Jang Mi-rae blinked and shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“It gets annoying after a while. Oh, this is delicious.”

Jang Mi-rae nibbled on the donut that Inari had bought.

The soft texture and the grape jam inside went well with the coffee.

“But what are you doing here?”

“I came to see if you were alive.”

“I’m still teaching, you know.”

“The students who take your class say you’re going to die.”

“Haha. Really? Do I look that bad?”

Inari examined Jang Mi-rae.

She had been working hard on her works since she was confirmed to participate in the Venice Biennale national pavilion. She skipped meals and didn’t sleep properly, and she looked terrible.

“Take it easy.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Jang Mi-rae picked up another donut.

She always liked them, but she devoured the big donut in no time. It seemed like she hadn’t eaten anything today.

“How do you endure it when you have a schedule like this?”

Jang Mi-rae shook her head.

“I do what I can. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Inari narrowed her eyes.

“It’s just. I don’t know when it will come, so I keep doing what’s in front of me. If I don’t do this, it won’t come.”

“What?”

“Inspiration.”

Jang Mi-rae pointed to her forehead with her index and middle fingers. It was an action that was supposed to look cool.

“Where did you see that? Don’t do that in front of the students.”

Jang Mi-rae deflated at the scolding from her junior.

Inari chuckled.

Inari, who had seen Jang Mi-rae up close, knew her ordinary and somewhat lacking side well.

But at the same time, she also knew why she was recognized as one of the best artists in the world.

Her work clothes were so dirty that she didn’t know when she had washed them, she didn’t eat properly, and her studio was a mess.

But at least when it came to painting, she was more serious than anyone else.

She had built up such a reputation that she could afford to take a break, but Jang Mi-rae didn’t.

She pushed herself even though she had such a great talent.

Inari wasn’t sure if Jang Mi-rae’s genius could be explained by the word talent.

Jang Mi-rae, who neglected even the basic aspects of life and wielded her brush, seemed to live for painting.

“Is it not going well? You’ve never had this before.”

Inari asked with concern.

“Yeah. It’s taking longer this time.”

“…”

“It’s okay.”

Jang Mi-rae comforted Inari, who was looking at her with a worried expression.

“You can take it easy, you know. Your work is good enough.”

It was a sad thing to say.

It would have been enough to make headlines just by having Jang Mi-rae’s name on it.

The media and critics were already focusing on The Outcasts, a collaboration between Go Sooyeol, Henri Marso, Jang Mi-rae, and Ko Hun.

But Jang Mi-rae shook her head firmly.

She couldn’t afford to be careless with a work that she was going to publish under her own name.

She didn’t want to show a picture that she didn’t like, even if she had a reputation to back her up.

“By the way, did you hear?”

Jang Mi-rae asked as she picked up her fourth donut.

“What?”

“Seolgi. Baek Seolgi. She joined The Outcasts.”

“How can you call her that, too? There are even articles calling her that these days.”

“That’s good. Anyway, don’t you know anything about Seolgi? She was your classmate.”

Jang Mi-rae was curious about Baek Seolgi, who she missed the first orientation because of a lecture.

She wasn’t close to her, but she remembered her as someone who drew very impressive pictures.

“I heard from Lime. She seems to have quit Cyclamen.”

“Really? Why?”

“Lime said she and Choi Kyuseo didn’t get along well. She didn’t even know he was badmouthing her.”

Jang Mi-rae nodded and grabbed her fifth donut.

“Stop eating! If you’re going to do that, eat some rice! You’ll eat them all if I leave you alone!”

“They’re delicious.”

Jang Mi-rae tried to suck on her fingers covered with sugar powder, but she saw Inari’s eyes and wiped them with a tissue.

“Still, I’m glad.”

“Because they broke up?”

“Well, that too. But she didn’t give up on drawing.”

Jang Mi-rae stretched.

Inari, who had been drawing steadily while working as a teaching assistant without giving up on her dream of being a painter, silently watched Jang Mi-rae.

“I think people like you, Lime, and Seolgi are cool.”

“What do you mean? I would have gone full-time if I sold my work.”

“I guess so.”

Jang Mi-rae nodded at Inari’s words.

It was obvious that anyone would do that if they could make a living from their work.

But that was rare.

Jang Mi-rae thought that those who accepted reality and did their own work while pursuing their dreams would someday see the light.

“It’s hard to draw while working. I do that.”

Jang Mi-rae proudly said, pushing her chest out.

It was her pride in herself, who was juggling teaching, research, and personal activities.

Inari smiled inwardly, even though no one recognized her.

“Is that a brag?”

“Of course. I’m awesome.”

Inari finally chuckled.

She was literally awesome.

“At least eat some rice.”

“Yeah. …My stomach feels a bit queasy.”

“That’s because you ate so many donuts on an empty stomach. My goodness. How many did you eat? Five?”

“Now that I think about it, I’ve only had coffee since the day before yesterday.”

“Really?”

“Shall we go eat kimchi stew? With egg rolls.”

Jang Mi-rae smiled brightly.