Van Gogh Reborn!

Chapter 129

Henry Marceau was looking at Ko Hun's concept art sent from Nolan Studios.

He couldn't take his eyes off [Bullet].

[Bullet] was a completely different painting from Ko Huns existing style of painting.

The smooth surface of the bullet was effectively expressed, and the faces of the figures reflected on it seemed alive.

Henry Marceau picked up a glass of kale juice.

He cooled his head with a bitter-sweet drink and looked at the [Bullet] again.

Even Henry, who had been watching Ko Hun more than anyone else, could not understand it this time.

So far, the boy has focused only on conveying the emotions rather than drawing realistic pictures.

Ko Hun's excellent and effective expression was not based on the description.

It was thanks to the sensuous brush touch and the color sense.

However, [Bullet] was excellent enough to make someone believe that it was painted by an undergraduate pursuing realism.

It was amazing that he was able to raise his skills to this level in just a few months.

It doesn't make sense for normal people, but for genius Henry Marceau, that wasn't special.

Although his skills have improved considerably, there are still many areas to improve in his eyes.

The problem was the composition.

The thought process of putting the most impressive scene on a bullet while thinking about the kind of expression the character might have, and where to put it.

It couldn't have been more perfect.

This ingenious idea wasn't something that could be achieved simply by taking the time.

Henry Marceau was not convinced that he made this as soon as he returned to Korea.

At that moment, his smartphone buzzed.

Henry Marceau frowned after checking the number.

It was a number he had never seen before.

Only a small number of people knew his phone number, so there was no way he could get a call from an unknown number.

Henry Marceau answered the phone.

-Henry?

Ko Hun was reflected on the screen with his young voice.

"What?"

Henry Marceau urged Ko Hun.

"How did you know this number?"

Michelle told me.

Henry Marceau twitched his lips.

It was because he remembered the time when he asked Michelle for Ko Hun's phone number.

She said she couldn't tell the number without Ko Huns permission, but she readily gave Ko Hun his number, which made him upset.

Thank you for the gift.

But the words that followed controlled his anger.

The little boy who tried to say thank you was quite commendable.

"Yeah."

But you got my birthday wrong. My birthday is June 1st.

"What?"

Henry Marceau narrowed his eyebrows.

According to him, Ko Hun's birthday was definitely June 23.

"What are you talking about? It's the 23rd."

There were circumstances. Grandpa says it's the 1st.

Henry Marceau became serious.

In addition to various information that has not been understood so far, the boy became even more suspicious because of [Bullet] and the wrong birthday.

-But how did you know it was my birthday?

"uh?"

How does Henry know about a birthday that I didn't know?

Henry Marceau, who couldn't say he did a background check, urgently found an excuse.

"I guessed it."

Ko Hun's scornful gaze was reflected on the smartphone screen.

-Like last time, I don't think Henry is good at lying.

"I'm not lying."

Thank you for congratulating me anyway. Then.

"Wait."

Henry Marceau called Ko Hun before he could end the call.

"When did you draw this?"

When he turned his cell phone towards the TV and showed [Bullet], Ko Hun said in his usual tone.

-I think it was last month.

"You drew this while drawing other things."

Henry Marceau couldn't believe the boy's words that he painted [Bullet] with other concept-art paintings in less than 15 days.

Yes.

Henry Marceau couldn't admit it.

He couldn't think that an 11-year-old child could paint such a work in such a short time just because he was talented.

Besides, he was a normal kid with no signs of talent two or three years ago.

Ah, Come to think of it.

Ko Hun remembered Henry Marceau's words that he wanted to check through what process Ko Hun goes through while drawing.

Do you want to see it? The sketches.

"Give it to me."

What are you talking about? It's mine.

Ko Hun headed to the studio.

When he turned on the light, drawing papers were scattered all over the place.

Henry Marceau frowned when he saw the inside of Ko Hun's studio.

"Whats that? Clean it."

I'm working.

"It's so messy."

It's messy when Im working.

"What?"

You didn't even shave when you showed [Marceau's jewel].

"I didn't have time then, and at least I kept my workplace clean. When did you clean that palette?"

I don't know. Has it been three days?

"Wipe every day. Otherwise, it gets murky."

Ill use it as bright paint separately.

"If you want to draw well, wash it often. That makes the paint dirty."

I know.

"What the hell do you do there? Are you going to cook a stew or something?"

Ko Hun turned the camera toward his face.

He expressed his dissatisfaction with Henry Marceau, who kept talking about things he knew.

It's for fun.

"Are you going to have fun with those?"

I don't want to throw it away, so I use it for practice. If you keep talking, I won't show you.

Henry Marceau snorted.

When the nagging stopped, Ko Hun showed each sketch he had drawn while devising [Bullet].

"Wait. Show me what you just showed again."

This?

"Before that. Why are you moving so fast? Slow down."

Longer calls cost a lot of money.

"What are you talking about? "

I need to save money.

"Damn it. What about all the money you got from painting!"

I'm saving it because I have to build a house and a gallery.

Henry Marceau's anger exploded when he thought about the land that Ko Hun bought not long ago and felt frustrated about saving pennies with the call.

"I'll give it to you, so just show the picture properly!"

Ah. I'll take a picture and send it to you. That will be less expensive.

Ko Hun hung up the phone.

For some time, Henry Marceaus hand with his smartphone trembled, but soon Ko Hun called again.

"What!"

What's your email address?

"You can just message it!"

What if it also costs money?

"Ugh!"

Henry Marceau sent his e-mail address as if wanting to smash the smartphone screen.

Henry the Great @ Goggles. Is that right?

"Yeah."

Hehe.

Ko Hun laughed at the childish ID, and the laughter once again pricked Henry Marceau's heart.

Henry Marceau, who hung up irritatedly, recalled the sketches he had just seen.

He couldn't help but be confused by the dozens of sketches.

It was completely different from what he thought.

It was absurd to think that he had come up with so many compositions in such a short time.

"Did he give his best?"

Henry Marceau folded and unfolded his smartphone and waited for Ko Hun to send the painting.

It felt like he would have to look closely to understand how he drew [Bullet].

Five minutes passed

Ten minutes passed..

.

.

.

An hour later, Henry Marceau's patience ran out.

He called Ko Hun straight away.

After a long connection, Ko Hun answered the phone.

What are you doing? You said you'd send me the picture!"

I'm taking the picture.

"Why does it take so long to take a picture?"

I put it on the floor, and my shadow falls on the paper, so I'm trying to find the angle.

"Just take a picture and send it!"

Don't scream. My ears hurt.

Henry Marceau, after taking a couple of deep breaths, said in a rather calm voice.

"I just need to see what process you've been through, so just take a picture and send it."

Why do you keep saying it in an imperative tone? I'm not obliged to send it to Henry.

"What?"

When you ask someone to do something, you have to be polite. Do it again.

Henry Marceau's face distorted.

"Did you forget? Is a million-dollar investment not enough?"

You gave that to Nolan.

Henry Marceau twitched his lips.

His face was red and he felt like it was going to explode right away.

If you don't like it, never mind. Ill hang up.

Henry Marceau gritted his teeth and hung up the phone.

As Henry Marceau looked down at his smartphone and was about to throw it away, it rang.

It was an alarm that Ko Hun's email had arrived.

Henry Marceau narrowed his eyes after checking the mail with disapproval.

The e-mail sent by Ko Hun was accompanied by 106 high-resolution photos.

Even after finding the angle where the shadow did not fall, it seemed possible only if it was taken nonstop.

Henry Marceau opened the first image.

The order was different, so it was not possible to know what was drawn first, but it could be largely classified into 11 concepts.

In the end, the scene reflected in [Bullet] was modified more than 20 times.

Henry Marceau, who was checking the sketch, groaned quietly.

There were sketches as good as [Bullet] in the middle, but most of them seemed insufficient for Ko Hun who drew them.

The clumsy attempts complicated Henry Marceau's mind.

It was not a talent given by heaven or a muse that came suddenly.

Ko Hun repeatedly thought, drew, and completed [Bullet].

Even if a pretty good composition came out, he didn't compromise and dared to discard it.

Henry Marceau couldnt admit that he, who succeeded after a bloody effort from an early age, was inferior to a child born with talents.

However, looking at Ko Hun's sketch now, he could see that the boy was no different from himself.

The process of drawing 106 sketches was in front of him.

Ko Hun couldn't figure out what to do, so he drew a pencil sketch, erased it, threw it away, and tried it again.

The boy was frustrated, and he couldn't get satisfied with the ideas.

The boy didn't give up until he was able to arrive at the work he wanted.

Henry Marceau finally felt the pain the boy endured while finishing the work.

A 11-year-old kid was doing the process that the word genius felt rather insulting.

[Sunflower], [Guest], [Happiness], [Frost Wheat Field], [Mask] and [Bullet]. Every work was born from the boys blood and sweat.

Henry Marceau couldn't take his eyes off Ko Hun's sketch.

He rearranged the sketches sent randomly by Ko Hun until the sun came up after the moon and stars were at their brightest.

Thinking about what Ko Hun would have thought and painted, he organized the order by guessing the time order for each concept.

In the process.

He became convinced that he and the boy were no different.

TRIVIA

The oil paint dries slowly, so you can squeeze it on the pallet and use it for a few days.

When it hardens and becomes unusable, it is scratched out, and painters who work on delicate tasks clean it every day.

If you can completely calculate the amount of paint required for work, you may think that there is no paint to throw away and that you can squeeze it little by little, but it is not easy.

Vincent van Gogh, who was even disappointed with the cost of buying paint, would have found a way to use the remaining paint, and he would have had a habit of drawing even a small picture with the remaining paint.

This is the same for Claude Monet.

He used to paint on a small canvas to dispose of the remaining paint.

He didn't squeeze more paint to complete it, and thanks to that, there are many unfinished works in his props.

(To be Continued)

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