The Mysterious Art Museum

Chapter 141 (2) - The Mysterious Art Museum

And then, that day, an incident occurred.

The recording started, and the MC, who was just suffering from a hangover, suddenly greeted everyone energetically.

I clapped mechanically, smiled mechanically, and automatically answered someone's questions.

Among today's panelists was a singer, or rather, a rapper I had seen painting on a VCR last time.

His hair and eyebrows were dyed a bright yellow.

Wearing a fashion so extravagant, I couldn't understand it at all.

If Monica saw him, she'd probably sigh at his overly extravagant style, seated with a smug expression. This rapper, now thirty years old, had disbanded his previous group to pursue a solo career.

He also works as a producer, which suggests significant musical talent, but perhaps due to early success, he seems to be deeply afflicted with the celebrity and artist syndrome.

His name is Yonghan.

The video the panelists and I are watching today shows Yonghan at a joint exhibition at the Tate Modern Gallery in England.

He speaks English quite well, and in the video, he's seen interacting and discussing works with other artists at the exhibition.

When the gallery is empty, and music plays, Yonghan, alone in the center, pretends to play a piano in the air.

The MC and panelists laugh and ask, "Why is he doing that?"

Yonghan responds with a smile, "I just had a sudden inspiration."

"Ah, you do music too, right?"

"No, not musical inspiration, artistic inspiration."

"Why play air piano for artistic inspiration?"

Yonghan glances at me and says, "That's just how artists are."

The panelists and MC all look at me, their faces asking if that's true. I hold my face in my hands and swallow my words.

The VCR resumes.

Now, it's a street in London, England.

Yonghan leans his head against the curb of a crosswalk, legs crossed, reading a book.

Laughter erupts again from the MC and panelists.

"What's he doing now?"

Yonghan replies, "I think you have to be different to do art. When you do things others don't, it feels like catharsis."

Huh? I don't get it, but I shouldn't dismiss others' thoughts. If that's how he finds inspiration...

The MC asks me, "Do you also seek inspiration through different actions, Mr. Ban?"

"......"

I don't respond, unsure how to respect his view.

The problem starts now.

After the gallery exhibition, a video shows Yonghan in his hotel room, drinking whiskey and listening to music. The VCR ends, and the MC comments on a painting in the room.

"That's a Millet painting, right? Classic British, having such art in hotel rooms. Of course, it's a fake. Right? That's Millet's 'The Angelus,' isn't it?"

Yonghan stares blankly at the MC and asks, "Who's Millet?"

"You're an artist and don't know Millet?"

"Do I need to?"

The MC, a bit flustered, looks at the panelists.

"Well, it's not like you have to know."

Yonghan shrugs, "I don't understand learning anything from past painters. Their art is 100, 200 years old. In an art world that's hard to survive in, thinking you can learn from the past seems outdated to me. That's why I'm not interested in past artists."

Some panelists nod in agreement. Are they really buying this nonsense?

Yonghan looks at me, "You think the same, right, Mr. Ban? I know without asking."

"......"

I hold back, glaring at Yonghan. He seems sure of my agreement.

I speak slowly, looking directly at him. "Is a writer reading books and an actor watching movies also clinging to the past?"

Yonghan looks a bit shaken, then tries to differentiate, "But that's just watching. Copying is just..."

I cut him off. "Writers write. Writing doesn't need hand skills, it's the keyboard. They don't copy others' writings for practice. And actors? They emulate seniors' acting to learn emotional depth, making it their own, right?"

"…Well, that's different."

I look askance at Yonghan, "So, music from past singers also feels outdated to you? The stereotype that geniuses are lonely and unique comes from entertainers and artists like you, who act this way. Keep such thoughts in your head, don't bother others."

"……"

"And those painters you dismissed. If you lived in their time, they wouldn't even know your name."

Yonghan is speechless.

I wanted to explode in anger, but I held back, ending the conversation somewhat politely.

I thought I had ended it quite gentlemanly. However, public opinion flowed differently than I thought.

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