Van Gogh Reborn!-Chapter 222:

222

Iris (2)

“He seems very picky.”

Bang Taeho said, looking at Daniel Scott, who was talking with the production staff.

The staff members were listening to the director’s words with great tension.

“Well, it’s rare to find a nice person among the creators.”

Go Suyeol chuckled and replied.

Among the staff who were moving the easel and the chairs, the grandson who was preparing the paint and the brush looked cute and admirable.

Bang Taeho also looked at him and brought up the topic.

“About what you told me before.”

“Hmm.”

Although there was no one who could understand Korean, Bang Taeho lowered his voice.

“I asked Alan, the director, casually and he said he couldn’t buy Damien Carter’s works.”

It was what Marcus Allen, the director of the New Tate Modern Gallery, who had contracted with Ko Hun to exhibit , had said.

Go Suyeol frowned, recalling what Henri Marso had told him about Damien Carter’s strange behavior.

“He couldn’t buy them? What does that mean?”

“He said he always felt pressured by the high bids. He didn’t seem to find it strange, since the prices were so high.”

Go Suyeol couldn’t easily believe that even the New Tate Modern Gallery, which was active and wealthy in securing exhibits, felt burdened.

‘No matter how expensive they are.’

He mulled over Henri Marso’s suspicion and continued the question.

“Isn’t that the case for all the works?”

Damien Carter, the most commercially successful artist of the 21st century.

Any museum would want to exhibit at least one of his works because of his name.

If the price was too high, they would want to buy a relatively cheaper work.

“I thought that was strange too, so I asked and he said the starting bid was over 3 million pounds.”

“Huh.”

“And even if he tried to buy the works that had lower final bids later, they wouldn’t come out again.”

Go Suyeol turned his head.

“Does that mean there’s no reselling?”

“That’s right. There are only a few works whose whereabouts are confirmed among the auctioned items.”

“Hmm… What about the unsold works? There must be quite a few, since there are so many works.”

There were several reasons why a work could be unsold at an art auction, but they were mainly divided into three categories.

No one bid because of lack of interest, or the final bid was too high for the bidder to pay.

Lastly, the work was forged, altered, or damaged.

For these reasons, unsold works were put up for auction again and generally formed a lower price range than before.

“He said there were no cases of unsold works coming out again. That’s why it’s hard to get them.”

“Where do they keep all those things…”

Go Suyeol sighed, remembering what Henri Marso had told him.

Damien Carter’s works were mostly not exhibited and their whereabouts were obscure.

“It’s not only a storage problem, but also a lack of willingness to sell, don’t you think?”

Go Suyeol wondered again at Bang Taeho’s remark.

Even though there were many weird people among the artists, it was hard to find someone who had no intention of selling their works.

“Is that possible? Someone who doesn’t want to sell their own works.”

Bang Taeho nodded, looking at Go Suyeol.

“Maybe.”

Go Suyeol recalled the past when the works were traded only among the collectors or used for money laundering.

He had been wary of him and had not put his works up for auction.

Bang Taeho nodded.

“I think it might be possible for the opposite reason of yours.”

“…You mean they had money laundering as their purpose?”

“That could be a reason.”

“How. How could that be possible. There are not one or two people who participate in the auction.”

“What if the trading partner was decided from the beginning?”

As Bang Taeho said, if the person who would trade the work was decided, it would look like they had no intention of selling to others.

“No. That can’t be. There are unsold works too.”

It was strange that the work was unsold when the buyer was decided.

“This is just my guess.”

Bang Taeho looked around and said.

“If it’s as Mr. Marso guessed, maybe it’s because they couldn’t form the price range they wanted.”

“What do you mean by the price they wanted?”

“If money laundering was their purpose, they would have to raise the final bid, but if there were few or passive participants, wouldn’t it be hard to form the price they wanted?”

“Right. One.”

“There have been 17 cases of artworks being damaged and unsold.”

Soo-yeol’s eyes widened.

It was unbelievable that the artworks that had been auctioned at Sotheby’s in England were unsold due to damage.

There was no way that Damien Carter’s artworks would be handled so carelessly.

“There are hundreds of cases where the bidders couldn’t pay for the expensive artworks. It happens often, but it’s not a normal number.”

Soo-yeol groaned.

“Why did I find out about this now? I can understand if the bidders ran away, but the media wouldn’t ignore the damage-related incidents. Carter wouldn’t stay quiet either.”

“Maybe their silence means that there is a collusion between Sotheby’s and Damien Carter?”

Tae-ho’s words made Soo-yeol touch his forehead.

He couldn’t know exactly what Damien Carter, Sotheby’s, and Jay Jopling had done, but it was an incomprehensible situation.

“Teacher.”

Tae-ho opened his mouth.

“I have to uncover this. If there is any fraud, we have to root it out before it gets worse.”

Soo-yeol looked at his grandson, who was holding a brush in front of the camera.

Tae-ho also looked at him.

“We can’t let this go on, can we?”

Tae-ho couldn’t stand the ugly art world.

He felt ashamed to think that Hoone would someday find out the true identity of the greatest master of this era, if he didn’t do anything.

Soo-yeol felt the same way.

He didn’t want his grandson to repeat the pain that he had experienced.

Especially now, when he was just starting to get attention from the Whitney Biennale, the Art Nouveau Competition, the SNBA Salon Exhibition, and other events.

In the first half of 2029, he would participate as a concept art manager in and , which was being filmed now.

It was a very important milestone for Hoone.

Soo-yeol clenched his fist as he watched Hoone fill the canvas.

As he started the underpainting, he heard the voice announcing the start of the shooting.

He didn’t know why Daniel Scott, the director, asked him to paint , but he wanted to comfort those who were hurt by Damien Carter.

It was a good picture for the subject.

“Iris was the first painting that Vincent made after he was admitted to the Saint-Paul-de-Mausole asylum.”

He wanted to have the irises that bloomed in the garden in front of him, but they wouldn’t be blooming in the middle of winter.

He wondered if that place was still there.

“It was May 8th, 1889, when the irises were the most beautiful.”

He had to admit himself to the hospital when he couldn’t keep his sanity due to the seizures.

His illness didn’t improve, but he gained some hope and courage by painting the surrounding scenery when he didn’t have seizures.

“Iris was a sketch. He practiced observing the petals and expressing their shape and texture well, but it was well received unlike Vincent’s thought.”

He positioned the flowers.

“He sent it to Theo in May. He said he would exhibit it at the Andépandant Exhibition in September. Although he paid to hang it, he hung it in a good place.”

Theo wrote in a letter, “It catches the eye from afar. It’s a lively and beautiful painting.”

“I found out recently that it was sold very expensively in the 80s. Vincent didn’t think much of it, but he would be surprised if he knew that you liked it.”

He often talked with his grandfather, but art was really hard to understand.

The paintings that he poured his blood and sweat into didn’t get any response, while the ones that he didn’t think much of were revered as masterpieces.

Art was something that the creator and the audience made together.

He mixed a little black paint with blue paint.

“There is something to be careful of before painting the flowers. Iris has no scent on the leaves. Vincent drew it clearly so that it wouldn’t feel like the scent was spreading.”

He wanted to express the sense of isolation without scent, so he applied ukiyo-e, which he was influenced by at that time.

He separated the border with a black line, which was a characteristic of ukiyo-e.

At that time and even now, many people thought that black borders shouldn’t be used because they didn’t exist, but who would care how he painted anything if it was beautiful.

He thought it was a good way to give life to the painting, even if he had to avoid it as a beginner.

“The reason why there is no scent is because they don’t need to attract butterflies or bees. They reproduce by bursting the fruits.”

He washed the brush once and then mixed white with blue.

He took a little bit off and painted it, then mixed it a little more and painted it.

“Iris was a comfort to Vincent, who was in the hospital. He bloomed beautifully on his own without anyone’s help, so he could soothe his loneliness a little, being alone in the rural hospital.”

His relationship with his few friends was broken and irreparable, and his body and mind were deteriorating day by day. It was a really precarious time.

“Everyone ignored him, so he seemed to have a pride to make a great painting somehow. He got courage from the iris.”

I mixed a little bit of blue paint into the white paint.

“I wondered a lot how Vincent could have been loved. Really, a lot. And then I thought it might be because of his iris-like heart.”

I added a white iris to the painting.

“It’s a lively painting, but a very sad one. He said he could do it alone, but that’s what lonely people say.”

He thought he could say he was fine alone because he was deprived.

He was afraid that he would be forgotten and unable to do anything if he didn’t comfort himself that way.

Happy people can’t understand his heart exactly.

“I enjoy painting. But when the work is done, I feel very lonely. When I stretch my back after focusing on painting for 10 or 20 hours, the surroundings are dark. The way home alone is so quiet that I feel like I’m left alone in the world. Especially when I’m not recognized for a long time, like Vincent. That’s a feeling I never get used to.”

For me at that time.

I have something to say for the artists of this era.

“Vincent died without success, but he tried hard with the mind that he could do it. He didn’t give up even though he was scared and thought he might not be able to do it.”

It’s not a boast, a lie, or a persuasion.

“It doesn’t mean you’re wrong if the people around you don’t recognize what you do.”

I dabbed yellow in the center of the white iris.

“The 19th century was a time when amazing geniuses showed off their skills. Vincent envied those flowers. Sometimes he was miserable in the narrow countryside, wondering if he would be forgotten like this.”

It seemed to go well.

“But he’s loved now, right? He was a flower too, just as he wished. We all have to believe that we are irises ourselves.”

I put down the brush.

“If you think that way. Maybe Vincent would like it if you get even a little courage.”

I turned my head slightly and saw the camera. It was quiet around me.

Daniel Scott, who had held the camera himself, slowly moved and showed his face.

“Perfect…”

It seemed to go well in one try.

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