Chapter 105 (2) - The Mysterious Art Museum


    "And this is what poor people eat. Not anymore though."


    "Not anymore?"


    I have to be careful with my words. It might imply that Lea''s family is poor and eating this because of that.


    Outwardly, the child''s house did seem poor. Isn''t that obvious? In a rural vige like this without job opportunities, it''s hard for families to prosper.


    "Yes, in the past, it was the food of the poor, but now it''s expensive. People seek it out deliberately."


    "Oh, we eat it often at home."


    "Do you? So, your family often eats expensive food, huh, Lea?"


    Lea''s shoulders rise slightly.


    "Hehe."


    Holding the cheerful Lea, I move back behind the couch where M is seated.


    "This man doesn''t usually paint like this."


    "Then how?"


    This might be too difficult for Lea. Should I exin it to her?


    "Well, he usually doesn''t paint indoors."


    "So, he paints outside?"


    "Yes."


    "Cool."


    "Isn''t it? This person represents the Impressionist era."


    "Impression?"


    Lea asks with a puzzled look. Ah, she''s cute.


    I pinch Lea''s cheek andugh.


    "Not that kind of impression."


    "Then what?"


    I ponder how to exin it ande up with an example.


    "Lea, do you know what a sunset is?"


    "I know! It''s when the sky turns pink before evening!"


    "Right!"


    "It''s pretty, so pretty!"


    "Yes, very pretty."


    "But sunsets disappear quickly, right?"


    "Yes!"


    "The fleeting movement of light. Capturing that momentary impression on canvas is Impressionism."


    "Umm..."


    Lea seems to struggle with the concept.


    "Like a photograph?"


    "Simr, but while a photograph captures exactly what is there, Impressionism captures a moment as seen by human eyes. Even optical illusions caused by the light."


    "Umm."


    "It''s a bit difficult, isn''t it?"


    "Yes, I don''t understand."


    That''s understandable. It''s a difficult concept for a six-year-old.


    I give up on further exnation and look at M''s painting.


    "Anyway, this man is now setting aside his pride and painting something different."


    "Why?"


    Why. A simple question, but it stings like a dagger.


    Probably every artist living through the times would be pained by this question.


    "Because he needs to make money."


    In the mid-1800s, before Impressionism became mainstream in art, paintings like M''s were not popr. This wasn''t the case throughout Europe though. William Turner in nearby Ennd was considered a national painter during this era and was also an Impressionist. However, this was not yet the case in France.


    M waster influenced greatly after seeing Turner''s painting "The Storm" in Ennd. Turner had said about this painting:


    "I did not paint aprehensible picture. I wanted to show what a storm looks like."


    Words can be interpreted differently.


    Turner didn''t want to show what a storm looks like, but rather how it appears to the human eye.


    M said that this painting had a great impact on him.


    And his subsequent works contributed even more to establishing Impressionism than William Turner.


    I look into Lea''s round eyes and say,


    "What does your father do, Lea?"


    Lea thinks for a moment before responding.


    "Untilst year, he farmed."


    "And this year?"


    "He''s not doing anything."


    "What changed?"


    "Umm."


    Lea ponders and then her face falls.


    "No tasty food, no toys. Dad just keeps getting angry."


    I feel a rush of pity. Poverty can make even the kindest people irritable.


    "Yes, if a father can''t earn money, the family struggles. So, the father has to earn money, right?"


    "Can''t the mother?"


    "Of course, the mother can too. Someone in the family has to earn money to keep it together."


    "Yes, but Dad said he''s going to work from this year."


    "Really?"


    "Yes! A girl from the neighborhood who went abroad is back and starting a big factory. Dad''s excited to work there."


    Wow, our Monica. That''s a significant achievement. On arge scale, it''s rebuilding the vige, but on a smaller scale, it brings happiness to every household.


    I smile and nod.


    "Did your father always want to work in a factory?"


    "No."


    "Then what?"


    "He wanted to repair cars."


    "But why didn''t he?"


    "There aren''t many cars in our vige."


    "Right, so he can''t do what he wants and has to do something else to earn money, right?"


    "Yes."


    I gestured towards M, who was painting with a stern face, and said,


    "That gentleman over there is doing the same."


    An exnation tailored to her understanding.


    This time, Leah seemed to understand as she quietly observed M.


    "Ban."


    "Yes."


    "I think what you said is right."


    "Why?"


    "That gentleman. He doesn''t look happy at all."


    M''s face is rigid, mechanically repeating the same motions.


    I saw his expression and projected myself into the modern era.


    I, too, am a ve to money.


    Sometimes, the pride of an artist within me rears its head.


    I should stop painting thesemercial pictures and paint something that is truly worth an artist''s time.


    Don''t sumb to money, to capital.


    But I want to protect my family. To do that, I need money.


    ''Mucha, Klimt, and M. They all needed money.''


    The artistic creation and money.


    Two things that repel each other are, regrettably, indispensable.


    The choice of art leads to a lifelong struggle with conflict.


    The demon I must face is the endless internal battle I must fight.


    That''s money. Money maniptes artists in this era and even in the modern world.


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