The Versatile Master Artist

From the moment the “Hundred Flowers Painting” was sent, Tang Ning began laying out the despair for Gu Weijing.

She wanted to destroy this competitor.

Professor Lin Tao was a prominent professor at the Central Academy of Fine Arts.

On one hand, he was twenty years older than his junior sister Tang Ning.

On the other hand, compared to Tang Ning, who held exhibitions while living across various European countries over the years, Lin Tao was more like the one living in the Ivory Tower among the brothers and sisters.

He truly had no ill intentions.

This time, he told Gu Weijing via WeChat to watch an interview, simply wishing to motivate the young generation, reminding him that wanting to be Elder Cao’s last disciple wasn’t easy without some exceptional skills.

Even in Professor Lin’s mind, a blow like this would be nothing to a candidate Elder Cao might choose as his last disciple.

Mere drizzle!

The Central Academy of Fine Arts is the best art college in Dongxia.

Those who are admitted to Central Academy and selected into Lin Tao’s studio are among the best of the best.

Not everyone grew up under the media spotlight like Koizumi Katsuko, that young art genius.

At the very least, they are outstanding students, proud and confident, who fought through the narrow path of the exam levee with their indomitable personality.

Selected under Dongxia’s high-intensity competitive environment.

No bragging necessary.

From mentality and fundamentals alone, looking at the global art environment, they are actually quite strong.

Those sensitive European students, if secluded for one or two months of intensive painting training for exams, might crumble mentally.

Even quite a few students Professor Lin usually encountered had some degree of narcissism in their character.

Narcissism—this trait is by no means a bad thing for an artist.

The most successful cultural workers in the world tend to fall into two major personality categories.

One category includes Van Gogh, Benjamin, and Munch as representatives, the sensitive artists who tear up when looking in the mirror in the morning, sighing “Ah, mom, I am dying.”

The other category includes Dali, Andy Warhol, Picasso—those who look in the mirror in the morning, eyes wide open, marveling “Wow damn, the person in the mirror is so freaking awesome! How could there be someone so perfect and adorable? This is so unfair to others, every girl should unconditionally fall in love with me,” artists.

These folks major in narcissism.

Sensitive artists are more inclined to integrate the environment into their work, reflecting the changes of every emotion season by season, like a clean mirror, so vividly that viewers feel they are experiencing a profound journey through countless fragments when looking at their paintings.

Sour, sweet, bitter, spicy—all come to mind.

Narcissistic artists narrate their powerful and fiery soul to the world.

They need not seek externally; their soul is a colorful vast universe, and their works are more aggressive and conquering.

Sensitive artists hope to guide the audience to slowly approach their work.

Narcissistic artists, in contrast, are like powerful speakers and opinion leaders, blaring their worldview and intense emotions to everyone with their work.

Neither emotional type is superior or inferior; both can go far on the artistic road.

But numerically, the latter group is bigger.

A large number of famous great painters have a charisma filled with hard-to-adapt narcissistic style, much like Professor Boggs.

Narcissistic artists are more likely to escape the impact of the “self-doubt” and “self-destruction” filters.

In Professor Lin Tao’s heart, Gu Weijing, with his youthful talent and strong learning ability, accompanied by a beauty, must be a narcissistic individual.

In fact.

Gu Weijing belonged to the sensitive emotional type of artist.

Sensitive people are the bedrock of all emotions.

When he’s happy, the world in his work is happy. When he’s sad and hopeless, suppressed negativity proliferates uncontrollably like bacteria in a Petri dish.

Even if the seed of that negativity wasn’t the Wisteria tree removed from the Royal Botanical Garden.

As long as Tang Ning planted a seed of doubt in his heart.

It would break through soil nourished by negative emotions at some other point in time.

“Calm, you’re not as bad as you think, you can definitely paint it out. Don’t think, don’t think about these, calm down. I need to calm down, think about Professor Lin Tao’s Wisteria formula. Just think about this now, forget everything else.”

“Forget everything.”

Gu Weijing pulled Shengzi’s hand away.

He forcefully slapped his burning cheeks, gripping the brush in his hand once again.

Gu Weijing now looked like a bloodied bull in an arena, refusing to fall.

Even if his soul was pierced repeatedly by the sharp sword of self-doubt, he kept his eyes red, hoofing towards the bullfighter ahead.

The red cloth flapping in the bullfighter’s hand was the great dream of an artist burning in Gu Weijing’s heart since childhood.

Recently.

“Little Prince” was selling well, the ingenious ideas at the Singapore exhibition, Elder Cao’s promise of apprenticeship… he just began to feel that this dream was within reach.

How could Gu Weijing allow it to drift away?

Some things so wonderful, once seen, are unforgettable for a lifetime.

Both born in humble backgrounds, both “small-town painters,” so Gu Weijing suddenly found that, in some part of his soul, he really was like Miao Angwen, the same kind of person.