Almighty painter

Chapter 517 Career Level
XNUM X Year X NUM X Month.

The Japanese writer Muramatsu Saofu arrived in Shanghai. As a China expert and a fan of Sinology, he wanted to see if it was the country of his "classical dreams."

Restaurants, teahouses, theaters, banquets, dances, gambling tables, and romance venues.

Prostitutes were out, horse-drawn carriages were flying, and speeding carriages were filled with beauties... After seeing everything in Shanghai, after returning to China more than two months later, Muramatsu Sofeng wrote a book about Shanghai.

In the preface to the collection of essays, he wrote: "I was dizzy by its beauty, rotten by its lasciviousness, and lost my mind in indulgence. I was completely indulged in all these demonic lives. So, joy, surprise, sadness, I feel an indescribable excitement..."

When later generations of scholars look back at the entire early twentieth century, they saw the coexistence of shouting and hesitation, the coexistence of revolution and appeasement, the desperate struggle between angels and demons, the turbulent times, and the dazzling literary and artistic circles with many representative names.

People will definitely remember Lu Xun, mention Gorky, and think of Kafka.

They will talk about Virginia Woolf’s writing on women, and even debate the role of Hans Sachs’ poetry in the German propaganda machine of World War II.

But few people mention Muramatsu Sofaze's name anymore.

His life experience cannot escape the four generalizations of "second rate". He came from a second-rate small landowner. At that time, many people who could stand out in the Japanese cultural world were poor, but they were not as rich as Osamu Dazai, a super-rich second generation, or Yukio Mishima, a Chinese nobleman whose first love was even the later Empress Heisei. Any comparability.

High-class foreigners, low-class foreigners, high-class Chinese, low-class Chinese... everything in front of me was so fragmented, psychedelic and unreal. It seemed that even the shops selling foreign cloth felt that they were superior to the hawkers selling homespun cloth.

Different time and space converge at this moment.

"If you're not good at drawing, just take your time, slow down, and draw slowly."

The eyes of Miss Su holding her boyfriend.

Just a pair of eyes, getting brighter and brighter.

But when a poor old woman covered in mud ran over and pulled his sleeve, his first reaction was still disgust and wanting to vomit, trying to drive her away.

Is it patriotic?
Of course love.

The old man touched Cao Xuan's hand.

The old painter patted Cao Xuan on the head and said seriously: "The moment you put all the money over, you are already my successor."

Memory seems to be like the vines wrapped around the old tree that were grabbed and split by curious children. They are constantly rotating and decomposing, forming thin branches extending in all directions.

It becomes lighter and lighter, and more and more.

At least for many, many years, people will always remember his novel summary of the city in Shanghai - the Magic City - in his letter to the publisher.

His achievements are neither high nor low, and his thinking cannot be called good. He has written a best-selling novel based on Kawashima Yoshiko, but he is not completely bad. Even he himself was included in the militarists' wanton list by the crazy Japanese military propaganda machine. The counterpart of Tartar.

The eyes of the bystanders looked at the marching soldiers.

People have almost forgotten who "Muramatsu Shoofeng" is.

"Have you offended the King of Shanghai? Today you can make hundreds of onlookers around you cheer for you, make ignorant girls rejoice for you, and dying old prostitutes cry for you. If one day, you can make tens of thousands of Chinese people Everyone shouts for you, let all the children in the world smile for you. Then, even if you offend a hundred Shanghai kings or a thousand Shanghai kings, the infinite shouts will just drive them away like a cow's tail driving away flies. "Pump away."

Even in Japan at the same time, there were cultural scholars like Ryu no Akutagawa of the Taisho era and Kawabata Yasunari of the later period who were much more discussed than him.

A second-rate writer is living a second-rate life.

But isn’t a scholar-official like him, an old literati, and a master of painting, a part of this divided society?

The world in front of Gu Weijing was frozen at this moment.

Since it is a city of demons, it is not a city of devils, but a city of magic.

The slogan was to save the nation and survive, from the Qing Dynasty to the Republic of China.

"You have an innocent heart. Only true compassion and true love can mend the rifts in society. Only those who are truly willing to go through the mud can save this country. Xiaoxuan, because you have an innocent heart. , so whether the painting is good or not, whether it offends the King of Shanghai, these things are no longer important at this point. "

In peacetime, he keeps his hands open and talks about his character, but in times of trouble, he dies to repay the king.

Even more than that.

Like rewinding film, everything is flashing back crazily. The entire world in memory seems to be like burned incense ashes. The city, streets, rivers, and all living beings are flying away like smoke.

Everyone has two faces, and everything has two skins.

"Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva, Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva. In this life, your teacher, at most, only achieved the first three words, opened his eyes to the world, understood the world, and did so-so rhythmic techniques. You are not painting these three points. "

The old prostitute's eyes when I heard that "it can be cured, it can be cured well".

Two hundred years ago, Kong Shangren made a mockery of the empty-talking scholars of the Southern Ming Dynasty. Thinking about it now, it still makes the old man feel chilly in his heart.

Some people shout, "You can achieve success with a sword, and you will live up to your youth," but in private they are traitors who betray their country and seek glory. Some people were illiterate, said nothing, walked to the battlefield silently carrying their guns, and then died silently on the battlefield, becoming nameless bones.

Some people are crying but they are laughing, and some people are laughing but they are crying.

Little girl's eyes while holding purse.

The words fell.

The old man just felt very sad and ashamed.

"Much stronger."

And the old painter's eyes when he took Cao Xuan's hand and said that you are my successor...

Ironic.

"This is the limitation of a person like me. I am not as good as you."

but,

"This is China for the Chinese."

The childhood Cao Xuan, the young Cao Xuan, the middle-aged Cao Xuan, the sixty-year-old Cao Xuan——

When the world in front of you gradually turns into smoke and dust.

Gu Weijing saw Cao Xuan from a distance, wearing a crisp suit and holding a briefcase, standing in the rolling purple lavender fields in South France, and asked the strong bald old man beside him, "Bob Mr. Luo, what is art?”

"Art is love at will."

The late Picasso, who was probably in his pastoral period, pointed to the lover running on the grass in the distant countryside, raised his bright eyes, and answered in French.

Gu Weijing also saw it.

Another Cao Xuan was also standing in the field.

It was just that the scorching sun was in the sky. He rolled up his trousers and grabbed a handful of wheat ears. Next to him was a young student whom Gu Weijing had never seen before and another student who was dressed the same as Cao Xuan. His boots were stained with mud. The technical cadre who went to the countryside said something, and then handed the wheat ears to the old farmer next to him.

The farmer buried his face among the wheat stalks and sniffed affectionately. Then he raised his head and gave a thumbs up to several people.

There was a simple smile in his eyes.

……

"The embankment is about to burst. The village piles downstream have not been moved yet. Hurry, we have to hold on for thirty minutes. The backbone of the party members go to the water to strengthen the embankment."

In the turbid turbulent river water.

Cao Xuan saw young men wearing military green rice-colored pants and orange-red life vests jumping into the water one after another. They stood in the muddy flood that was almost waist-deep, holding hands to form a human wall.

After soaking in the sun for many days, my face was covered with exposed rough skin, and my skin was as dark as a cracked pine tree.

The body that was pushed forward and backward by the current was still as tall and straight as a pine tree.

A pair of young eyes, firm and scary.

……

The next ninety years. Ten pairs, a hundred pairs, thousands of pairs of different people's eyes, gathered together, and finally converged into the compassionate eyes of the Bodhisattva on the lotus seat in front of him.

Lu Xun said in "Weeds".

I will wander into the darkness in nowhere, I will travel far away alone, not only without you, but also in the darkness without other shadows, silenced by the darkness.

I don’t give, I don’t have the intention to give, but I am above the giver, giving away annoyance, suspicion, and hatred.

But Lu Xun also said——

In the midst of great enthusiasm, I got cold and saw the abyss in the sky.

See nothingness in all eyes, be saved from hopelessness.

The eyes of the Bodhisattva on the lotus seat formed by the gathering of thousands of eyes may be the Buddha nature mentioned by the young monk and the Zen heart mentioned in the words.

But after seeing all this.

Gu Weijing preferred to use a simpler explanation, one that had nothing to do with religion.

That's hope.

At the moment when the art of calligraphy and painting appraisal dissipates.

The last ray of red sun in the sky fell just on the Bodhisattva's eyes, like a faint firelight.

Gu Weijing looked into those eyes for a long time.

It is just an instant, and an instant is the birth and death of the world.

really weird.

After experiencing such a long breath.

Gu Weijing's first thought was not about the exquisite brushwork contained in Cao Xuan's painting. He actually thought of the oil painting "Old Church on a Thunderstorm Day".

On that oil painting, burning candlelight danced.

For the land under her feet, the female painter was just a traveler who came and went in a hurry. But on a rainy night, she looked at the rainbow-like candle glow for a moment.

Is it like the little girl who struck a match on a snowy Christmas night, seeing hope for the future in the wavering light of the fire?

The candlelight in the thunderstorm sky, the Buddha's heart in front of all living beings.

Gu Weijing had been painting for so long and copied it countless times. It was only at this moment that he suddenly realized it.

perhaps.

They are just similar things.

"I don't understand Chinese painting at all, but painting methods are not limited to one type, and Buddhism is not limited to one place."

"Thousands of people have thousands of dharmas, and thousands of Buddhas have thousands of faces, but thousands of faces have one mind. Observe the mind with the mind, and then the mind and heart will reflect each other, and then draw parallels."

The words that the great monk said to him seemed to echo in his ears again.

Maybe.

This is the so-called analogy.

Good sustenance is common, and hope is also common.

[Congratulations, your oil painting experience has reached (9999/10000), and the oil painting breakthrough mission has been activated. 】

Breakthrough mission——

[Oil painting, with its color and brightness, contains techniques from thousands of worlds. But technique is not just about the strokes you scribble on the picture when you hold the pen. Excellent technique requires a pair of steady hands, but great technique requires a pair of shaky hands. In fact, as people age, their eyesight will deteriorate, and the hands holding the paintbrush will also become trembling. But many truly great works were completed in the artist's final years. The secret of the technique here is not the secret of using the brush, but the thorough understanding of transforming emotions. 】

[Task content: Use the flame of the paintbrush to illuminate the joys, sorrows and joys of life. Understand that a master-level oil painting contains the deepest emotions, anger, sorrow, and joy, and engage in a dance of color across space. 】

[Note 1: The deeper you look, the closer you are to art. A sincere heart can dispel all the haze in front of you. 】

[Note 2: The status of this task is "Skipped"]

The page content on the pop-up system panel paused.

The golden "Skipped" eye-catching logo stayed on the page for a moment.

next second.

The entire system interface related to the oil painting breakthrough mission turned into colorful fly ash like ignited paper.

There was a ding.

A new prompt pops up in the system.

[Congratulations, the path of the master is in front of you. You have reached the third level of Oil Painting Level 6 career. 】

[Congratulations, Mr. Gu Weijing, since you did not pass the system task and understood the bottleneck on your own, the system will provide you with free experience points equivalent to 6% of the total experience value of the next stage (Lv. 20 career level ). , as a reward. Good luck. 】

[Ding, free experience points +10000 points! 】

[Ding, the current oil painting experience value: Lv.6 professional level three (36/50000)]

All kinds of tinkling system prompts sounded in my ears like big beads and small beads falling on a jade plate, ringing in the side of my head.

The virtual panel is like a waterfall, with new messages constantly refreshing.

Gu Weijing felt that the world in front of him, the rows of lights in the temple under the curtain, and the murals shrouded in black in front of him, seemed to have remained the same as before.

It seems that everything - his control over the subtle changes in hues, and the texture of gold flowing in the air, are all more subtle.

"Is it a psychological effect?"

Gu Weijing thought in his heart.

I came here specifically to improve my Chinese painting skills and to understand how to perform the task of sketching.

It ended up being quite busy.

Oil painting techniques were the first to reach the third level of professional level.

This analogy is quite powerful.

I don’t know if this is an example of unintentional interference.

The only slight flaw is.

It should be a limited task activated by the calligraphy and painting appraisal technique, and because only one can exist at the same time, disassembling and appreciating the "Picture of Worshiping the Buddha and Protecting the Dharma" did not bring him new incidentals like disassembling and appreciating "The Dance at the Pancake Mill". Extra tasks.

but,

Today's harvest has been too much.

Gu Weijing did not force anything else. He took a final deep look at the data on the system virtual panel about the "Picture of Worshiping the Buddha and Protecting the Dharma"——

[Name: "Picture of Worshiping the Buddha and Protecting the Dharma"]

[Technique: Cong·Painting Saint]

[Emotion: Wonderful writing brings flowers (perfection)]

Unlike Reano's work, which he fainted after just briefly scanning it, the system panel displayed almost all the complete data about the "Buddha and Protector Picture".

(End of this chapter)