Almighty painter

Chapter 739: Trees and Sloths (Part )

In Cui Xiaoming's sight, the young man standing by the dining table was almost a sculpture.

He stood next to the wealthy middle-aged man.

The two people present completely different body postures.

Yang Dekang, Cao Xuan's personal assistant, had a cheerful look on his plump face. The light from the crystal chandelier was painted on his face, creating a layer of oily sheen. His body was full of lively movement. While he was talking, he kept shaking his head as if he had ADHD.

Gu Weijing, his competitor, did not move.

He leaned his chair back against the amber wall of the banquet hall, his shoulder blades stretched out, and he looked sideways at the venue, away from the crowd.

My father described Gu Weijing as a quail at a loss.

This is a very wrong description.

Quails are gentle, well-behaved and sensitive animals.

They travel in groups of three or five and need to huddle together for warmth.

The quails that are driven out of the population are often the losers in the fight. In the early morning fields, they gaze with longing eyes at their fellows flying up with the cries. The black pupils on their beaks are filled with envy and desire to join them.

Cui Xiaoming did not feel this kind of envy and desire on him.

A person whose heart is full of envy should not have such a stretched body posture, nor should he have such a sculpture-like calmness and stability.

He doesn't fit in here.

and so.

He drove out the population - a lonely banyan tree far away on the open plain outside the forest, where birds carried seeds to a distant place.

Apart from anything else, Cui Xiaoming appreciated this feeling.

This feeling is artistic, artistic desolation and artistic loneliness.

The other person's unique personal temperament is the roots and stems of the banyan tree, and the ill-fitting Tibetan suit he is wearing is the dust, fallen snow and mottled bark on the tree.

The champagne glass in his hand?

It was just like a pine cone that was picked up by a lively local dog that occasionally ran by the roadside.

Cui Xiaoming's eyes stayed there for too long, and Cui Xuanyou thought he was looking at Lao Yang.

Cao Xuan’s personal assistant... He is indeed a person who deserves the father and son to be alert and treat seriously.

"What the hell."

The bald artist couldn't help but mutter, "How could I meet Edward Yang here? Hasn't he always been with Mr. Cao in Hamburg? Why did he come here in person? Did Cao Xuan himself come to Singapore this time? For the exhibition of an 18-year-old kid. How is that possible?"

"I don't know whether Cao Xuan came or not, but we already know that for the sake of the paper, the organizers of the Singapore Biennale specially invited Oil Painting magazine to do a special interview for Gu Weijing and Sakai Katsuko, and the location was at the Esplanade in Singapore. I heard that the person who operated all this was Cao Xuan's fourth disciple Liu Ziming. Cao Xuan really admired him, and this was probably true."

Cui Xiaoming thought about it and still maintained a calm attitude.

"That interview - didn't we already know there was something else going on? It was said that Liu Ziming didn't like him, and even Sakai Kazunari's daughter dumped him."

Cui Xuanyou stroked his shiny bald head and whispered, "Now at the banquet, Yang Dekang personally appeared next to him. This is not a good sign. If he also wants to lobby the judges on behalf of Gu Weijing, we will be under a lot of pressure."

He lowered his voice involuntarily.

"If we had known earlier, we should have agreed to hype and copycat when someone came to our door a few days ago..."

"Shut up."

Cui Xiaoming interrupted his father ruthlessly.

"We won't get involved in this, remember? We agreed. We won't get involved in anything related to the thesis or anything else. Father, why are we here?"

"Awarded." Cui Xuanyou answered honestly.

"To be precise, the UBS Best Newcomer Award. Compared to many people, we only want very little. We don't want to be at the forefront, to defeat him with our works, and then win the award and make our debut. It's a complicated matter, those people are fighting each other, let them grab it among themselves. Yang Dekang has more power than you. What will happen if you jump in and meddle in it? Don't you know who you are? If you insist on being the first to stand out, you won't even know how you drowned."

“Remember, we never knew that Gu Weijing was going to participate in the Lion City Biennale, and we never received the photo. “New Three Bodies of Buddha” and “Good Luck Orphanage in the Sunlight” are two independent works. As for the rest, let others say what they want to say.”

Cui Xiaoming wiped his glasses clean and put them back on.

"I've seen his paintings. The work he actually submitted has changed a lot of composition and details from the work in the photo we received. Now the style is similar at best. Even if someone really accuses him of plagiarism, it will be difficult to get any conclusive results from the organizing committee."

"I'll say it again, father. It's probably good that Cao Xuan admires him. No matter what his disciples think, the old gentleman's own attitude is the most important. Accusing him of plagiarism is a complete break. What if Cao Xuan is really angry? Can you handle it? I just want to beat him at the exhibition. If I have a choice, I even hope that he will develop well. I don't want to easily fight to the death with such a person. Do you understand?"

"Oh."

Cui Xuanyou nodded to show that he understood.

"Even if Gu Weijing can't compete with you just based on the strength of your work, what are we afraid of? The award will definitely be yours. On this path, you are the true master."

The bald artist licked the corner of his mouth and spoke to himself.

Cui Xiaoming was silent.

He stared at the young man standing across the banquet hall, who was as quiet as a tree without wind.

He hesitated for a few seconds and shook his head slowly.

"not like this."

He sighed softly.

"Father, we must be honest, no matter what the reporters say, no matter what the critics write, and no matter whether we have informed the judges. We must be honest with ourselves. We must tell the truth to ourselves. We cannot lie to the point of deceiving ourselves. That would be the stupidest thing to do."

"As early as the first day we arrived in Singapore, we went to see the work of Gu Weijing. It is indeed a good work, and this cannot be faked." Cui Xiaoming whispered, "After all, it was me who borrowed from his work, not him who borrowed from mine, and this cannot be faked. Even so, even though we were well prepared, he still handed in a painting that surprised me."

"The previous painting, 'Good Luck Orphanage in the Sunlight', was placed next to my 'New Three Bodies of Buddha'. I believe that even if it is a fair competition, my painting will win. But this 'Good Luck Orphanage in the Sunlight'? I am not very confident that I can beat him in a real fight."

"What an amazing progress. Don't lie, I don't need false comfort. Dad, you know this in your heart." Cui Xiaoming said.

Cui Xuanyou also fell silent.

He did pay attention to Gu Weijing's painting on display.

well.

Unexpectedly good.

He knew how capable his son was, and he had received the other party's exhibition paintings in advance, which gave him countless advantages in this unfair confrontation.

He even thought that he and his wife didn't even need to lobby the judges to promote their son.

When the two works are placed together, with the blessing of the original personal painting style, the award should naturally go to his own son Cui Xiaoming.

No one expected it.

But he encountered a work that made all this seem natural and not so natural.

How long does it take?

The other party has improved so quickly.

It was for this reason that he became furious and began to hesitate about whether to resort to other means.

"And Katsuko Sakai, Kazunari Sakai's daughter, also participated in the Biennale in person. Her work is also very good. Not to mention. My father's influence is far less than that of Katsuko Sakai's father."

Cui Xiaoming added with a smile.

The bald artist sighed, patted his shoulder, and said in a softer tone: "So, Xiao Ming, there is no need to think so much. We just need to work hard--"

"So, father, we must win this time. At least one of the Best Artistic Creativity Award or the UBS Newcomer Award must be mine." Cui Xiaoming patted his father on the shoulder and said, "I don't want to work hard, I just want the result. At the starting point of my debut, I'm standing on the shoulders of Sakai Kazunari's daughter and the young man Cao Xuan admires. This kind of good thing may never happen again in my life. I hope that ten years later, magazines such as Oil Painting, Art Review, and Aesthetics Weekly will record how I defeated them, instead of me telling others that I have tried very hard."

"Larry Gagosian wasn't hesitant to sign me. I didn't need his handout. I wanted him to have to chase me. Now, that reason is right in front of me."

Cui Xiaoming flicked the champagne glass in his hand with his fingertips.

Small transparent bubbles float up from the bottom of the cup.

"He paints very well, but unfortunately, things at art exhibitions are never just about art. I am the youngest guest painter at the exhibition, but he only has an ordinary booth."

"Even before the exhibition started, his booth was moved to a remote corner. You see? That's a good start."

Cui Xiaoming pursed his lips slightly and couldn't help but smile.

"The fact that we received photos of him participating in the painting in advance was the first signal, and the change of the booth was the second."

"If there is a first and a second, there will be a third and a fourth."

"We don't have to jump out and charge into battle ourselves. Those who really don't like him, those who really want more, will help me win."

The young man in the distance seemed to have sensed something. He suddenly turned his head and looked in this direction.

Cui Xiaoming met the gaze.

He didn't know whether the other party knew him, but he still smiled and raised his glass to congratulate him from a distance in an elegant and decent manner.

“Hail to you, lonely tree.”

Cui Xiaoming said silently with his lips.

"To your withering and decay."

Cui Xiaoming really likes Gu Weijing.

He loves Gu Weijing.

The kind of love that the purple-robed prince in the royal box of the Colosseum had for the gladiators in the mud below, swords in hand, waiting for a life-and-death struggle with the lions released from the gates.

Love with cheers and fruits thrown all over the car.

If the man in the mud, holding a sword and waiting to fight a lion for the amusement of the crowd, is also a person of noble birth—a prince of a failed city-state, a defeated army commander from Greece, a young painter admired by Spartacus or Cao Xuan and Sakai Kazucheng, then this kind of love can be upgraded to the level of thought of Greek classical mythology.

The charm of Greek mythology lies in its unique tragedy.

The beautiful and clever Medea used her wit to help the hero she loved obtain the Golden Fleece, but at the end of the story, she was abandoned by her husband and cut her brother into pieces with her own hands.

The city of Chloe held out for ten years, but in the end, on the eve of victory, it was destroyed by the Trojan horse outside the city.

Achilles, half-man, half-god, was invulnerable to swords and spears, water and fire. He was the greatest warrior in the world. But the moment his mother lifted the baby's ankles and dipped him into the water of the Styx, it was destined that one day he would die from the hidden arrow shot from the sky by Apollo. No, it was earlier than that. Long before he was born, when the goddess of fate told his mother that your son will die on the battlefield.

Nothing can be changed anymore.

Gu Weijing did a great job. He made a lot of preparations and broke through himself at once. He handed in a painting called "Good Luck Orphanage in the Sunshine" that was better than the one Cui Xiaoming had seen before.

But in the end, when he took his first step into Singapore, he was destined to lose the competition.

Just as Spartacus fought bravely and won victory after victory in the arena, he led the Greek rebels to win incredible battle after incredible battle, but in the end, when he led his army across Italy, he was destined to be crucified by Pompey on a parade cross all the way from Rome to Capua.

Fighting bravely for something that is destined to lose, shedding the last drop of blood alone.

This is the charm of Greek mythology.

The tragic qualities of a hero.

Tragic heroic qualities.

This feeling has a strange allure to the talented Cui Xiaoming. Who among the audience in the VIP room watching the fight in the arena could not feel the excitement of superiority?
How beautiful.

Whether it's the lion cornering the gladiator and watching it bite through the other's throat, or the gladiator cornering the lion and seeing the power of courage burst forth in an instant.

They are all beautiful.

The photo that was sent to my father's mobile phone and burned after reading was of the first lion coming out of the gate.

Gu Weijing produced a painting that was better than the one in the photo.

His work was moved to a remote booth and it was the second lion.

after that.

Cui Xiaoming believed that there would be a third and a fourth gladiator, and that even the bravest gladiators would eventually fall to the ground due to exhaustion. All he had to do was to cut off the opponent's head like Commodus, the famous Roman emperor who loved gladiatorial games, and receive the audience's standing cheers.

Commodus was a very failed emperor. He might have had the opportunity to compete for the title of the most vicious and cruel emperor in ancient Roman history, but he was eventually murdered by his Praetorian Guards.

He may have been the most successful gladiator in ancient Roman history.

Needless to say.

He never lost a contest in the Colosseum.

Competition in the Colosseum is never just about courage.

The gladiator played by the emperor would live, and the real gladiator would die.

Competitions at art festivals are never just about art.

He will win.

Gu Weijing will lose.

This is the fateful edict already written by power.

A young man admired by Cao Xuan, his works are placed in the corner of the exhibition hall, he is ignored by the crowd in the banquet hall and in the corner of the social circle, doesn't this indicate something?

When someone finds himself out of place, he cannot say that there is something wrong with the whole crowd. No, there is nothing wrong with the crowd. The men are still talking loudly, the women are still smiling with their hands covering their mouths, and the champagne glasses filled with honey wine are still clinking crisply together.

He could only say that he was wrong.

He could only admit that he was not used to it here.

He doesn't belong here.

There is a reason why a place seems quiet and deserted in a noisy banquet hall, just as there is a reason why a long forest bypasses a certain land.

Maybe there is too little rain there, maybe there is not enough sunshine, or maybe the temperature there is not suitable for vegetation to survive.

Naturally, it will make its own choice.

"Survival of the fittest." - This is Darwin's words, this is science.

Either the tribe expelled it, or it expelled the tribe.

it's the same.

It is destined to decay and wither.

"Then we will do nothing." Cui Xuanyou, who had been trained very well by his son, asked for instructions.

"Well... temporarily. At least until his interview at the Esplanade is over. If his paper blows up, we can go and give it a try."

"That's really artistic. Don't worry, even if the world forgets you, one day, decades later, I will leave a special chapter for you in my memoirs."

Cui Xiaoming looked at the other person and said with a smile in his heart.

"But we are not doing nothing now. I heard that the team of Oil Painting is here. Dad, can you help me arrange an interview with Oil Painting? Don't worry, I won't make it difficult for you. I don't ask for any exclusive interview, just a few good words about me in the article about the Lion City Biennale."

He gave instructions to his father Cui Xuanyou in a requesting tone.

"Uh..." There was a hint of obvious embarrassment on the bald artist's face.

"It's a bit difficult. Xiao Ming, you don't understand that Oil Painting is different from other art review media we visited before. They are the industry leaders and they almost never take the initiative to cooperate with other painters' applications for notices. Liu Ziming can come to Oil Painting for an interview, but it doesn't mean your father can do it."

"Okay, you take me to visit Miss Elena, and leave the rest to me. I'll handle it myself." Cui Xiaoming changed his request.

Cui Xuanyou continued to feel embarrassed.

"Is it a bit difficult for you?" Cui Xiaoming smiled.

“Well…” Cui Xuanyou smiled awkwardly, “Well, I can take you to visit Mika Tonks when I have the chance. He is the curator of this Biennale. We both have some friendship with Mr. Harvey in the British fashion circle, so we can talk to each other.”

"Then go there now."

Cui Xiaoming picked up the wine glass.

He smiled and waved goodbye to Gu Weijing in the corner again, then followed his father and squeezed into the social circle around Tonks.

Tonks seemed to have just said something funny.

There was a burst of laughter.

Cui Xiaoming also chuckled and raised his glass.

Good at dancing with long sleeves.

Only then can heaven and earth work together.
-
"Watch out for him."

Lao Yang's voice rang in Gu Weijing's ears, his tone unusually serious.

"Who?" Gu Weijing paused, "The curator, Mr. Tonks?"

"The couple who just came up to Tonks, the older one is Cui Xuanyou, a Chinese painter in Berlin. The younger one is Cui Xiaoming, his biological son, and the youngest guest painter at this Biennale."

Yang Dekang opened his lips slightly and bared his teeth.

"Brother Yang, let me be honest with you. Among the artists participating in this year's exhibition, if there is anyone who sincerely hopes that you will be in trouble, it is probably these two. Your painting styles... well, may be a little similar. If you have a chance to go to the exhibition site and take a look, you should understand."

The specific inside story.

Yang Dekang didn't say much.

He put the champagne glass aside, feeling that he had done all the talking he needed to do, and prepared to rush out into the social circle again, going in and out.

Just as I took a step forward, I thought about it.

Old Yang is back again.

He took off the watch on his wrist and put it into Gu Weijing's arms.

"This is……"

"I understand you, really, Brother Gu. When I first came to such an occasion, I was also at a loss like a small transparent outsider. What does that song say? An 18-year-old campus dance, standing like a minion or something. Anyway, that's what it means. It's not a good feeling." Old Yang licked his lips, "At that time, I thought, one day, I want to be the coolest, most beautiful, and most eye-catching person here, a successful person, and no one can ignore me. I want to be more respectable than these foreigners and play like a real person."

"Your suit doesn't fit you well, and it's too late to buy one. But I can lend you my watch. People always say that a Rolex is a symbol of a successful man's confidence!"

"Remember, come with a bang. Run, little pony."

He patted Gu Weijing on the shoulder, then headed towards the social circle with his head shaking. "Here, your brother Yang's Rainbow Dicko is very expensive. Act cool. Be a successful person."

Gu Weijing looked at Lao Yang's back as he left.

He looked down at the big gold watch in his hand that was blingbling and shining.

“Is this what you call success?”

Gu Weijing thought to himself.

A few minutes later.

The door of the banquet hall suddenly opened again, and a strange atmosphere spread from the door to the inside.

suddenly.

The venue seemed to be quiet all of a sudden.

(End of this chapter)