310
The Final Showdown (15)
I had a late night because of the fight with Henri.
Since it had come to this, I invited Ma Eun-chan, who lived in Münster, to have dinner with me.
He ate hastily, his eyes wide open. He must have skipped meals for days.
As we chatted leisurely after filling our stomachs, I heard an interesting story.
There were 60,000 students in Münster, a city with less than 300,000 people2. That meant one out of every five people on the street was a student.
“How can there be so many?”
“This is a kind of wealthy neighborhood. But the rent and the cost of living are cheaper than other places.”
He meant that the city was safe and affordable.“Then isn’t it a nice place to live?”
“Yeah. I love it.”
Ma Eun-chan said he liked it.
I didn’t know why.
“Because the education environment is good.”
Bang Tae-ho chimed in.
“First of all, there are many schools. I think there’s even the oldest school in Europe here.”
“Ah.”
“The more schools there are, the more students there will be. And that creates a good environment, don’t you think? After all, if you do business with students, the prices will be low.”
Bang Tae-ho had a point.
“That’s true. I didn’t know it was this good before I moved in. There aren’t many part-time jobs, though. But I guess I’m lucky.”
“Haha. As far as I know, it was once selected as the best city to live in the world. It seems to be true.”
Grandfather agreed with him.
“Yes. Really. The landlord said that the Münster Sculpture Project also helped a lot.”
“Well, it would be beneficial economically if more outsiders came in.”
“So everyone hopes that they do it every five years, but Leon Koenig is totally against it.”
“Why?”
I was curious.
The Münster Sculpture Project, which was held every ten years, seemed to have too long of an interval.
From an artist’s perspective, it would be better to have large-scale events more often. And the city and the citizens would also want more frequent events that had economic effects. I couldn’t understand why the art director opposed it.
“I don’t know.”
Ma Eun-chan shrugged.
“What do you think, sir?”
Ma Eun-chan smiled brightly and asked Henri.
He grimaced as he tasted the wine in his glass.
He didn’t like the wine.
The French tended to be proud of their own products and not deal with anything else when it came to wine.
Henri was no exception. He looked for wines made in Bordeaux, Rhone, or Champagne.
Arsene called a staff member and ordered a new wine. Bang Tae-ho stepped in for the bewildered Ma Eun-chan.
“You know that the Münster Sculpture Project started with the aim of bridging the gap between the public and contemporary art, right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the extension of it. In fact, there were many controversial works at this event. Let’s take Noi Siamo as an example.”
“Oh! You mean the sculpture that has nothing?”
“Yes. It’s hard to say whether it’s ahead of its time or unique.”
“Right. I’m an artist too, but…”
Ma Eun-chan trailed off.
I wondered if he thought it was art, but not something he could call a ‘sculpture’. I felt the same way.
“I understand. I’m not sure either. The citizens of Münster probably feel the same way.”
Ma Eun-chan nodded.
“Director Leon Koenig says that such works need enough time to be accepted.”
“You mean ten years?”
“Yes. There are some voices that want to reduce it to five or three years, but he tries to stick to ten years no matter what.”
“Haha. He said he would even go to court to keep it.”
Grandfather added to Bang Tae-ho’s explanation.
“Then why ten years?”
Ma Eun-chan asked again. Henri put down his new wine and opened his mouth.
“It’s about giving time.”
“Time?”
“Arsene, get rid of this garbage.”
Henri didn’t answer, but complained about the wine.
“When you’re 10, 20, or 30 years old, you see things differently.”
“Hmm. If that’s the reason, do you really need 10 years?”
“It’s a symbolic meaning of enough time. Even if we don’t get along, we won’t feel any distance after 10 years together.”
When the Münster Sculpture Project opens, the whole city becomes an exhibition hall.
The public lives in harmony with the modern artworks displayed all over the city.
The artworks that were in museums or galleries come into everyday life.
As Henri said, if we spend 10 years together, we may not understand each other, but the distance will fade.
I know nothing about human relationships, but I’m good at this.
“Damn it.”
He doesn’t like the wine again.
He’s trying to hold back his desire to drink more, but he’s lucky.
“Arsène.”
“Why do you keep drinking something that’s not good for your body?”
I stopped him from ordering another wine.
“Here, drink this.”
He snorted when I gave him the grape juice I was drinking instead of wine.
“You drink it.”
“It’s delicious.”
“Hmph. This is like a kid’s joke juice.”
“Just taste it. You can order something else later.”
He seems to be worried after failing several times.
He looked back and forth between the wine glass and the mug, then reluctantly put the grape juice to his mouth.
“…”
“Is it okay?”
“…Arsène.”
“Yes.”
“Bring me this.”
“Okay.”
Ma Eunchan opened his mouth after staring at Henri.
“Brother, you have a surprisingly babyish taste.”
Leon König, the director of the Münster Sculpture Project, invited famous critics and docents.
He had placed guides for each work to bring the public and modern art closer, and this time he planned to publish a collection of reviews.
He held a small party to greet the people who helped the project on the opening day.
“Thank you for coming. I hope you enjoy yourselves today.”
Leon König raised his glass and greeted them.
As they cheered and turned around, Gary Harris, a critic who worked in the UK and the US, came up and greeted him.
“Congratulations. There are many great works this year.”
“It’s all thanks to the artists.”
Gary Harris nodded slowly, meaning he agreed.
“There’s something I want to ask you.”
“Please tell me.”
“I heard that there’s a citizen’s award this time. I was curious about your opinion as the director.”
“Ha ha. I avoided awards because they seemed to divide the ranks.”
“I knew that.”
“Yes. So I didn’t want to make one, but the citizens said they wanted to express their gratitude to the artists who helped Münster.”
“Oh.”
“I couldn’t stop that, so I made one. It’s not a prize money, but a plaque of appreciation, so I thought it would be okay.”
“That makes sense. If the citizens greet them voluntarily, it fits the purpose of the project.”
“Ha ha. Yes. I feel rewarded thanks to that.”
Leon König and Gary Harris raised their glasses to each other.
“To be honest, I’m worried about how this event will be received. Please help me.”
“Isn’t there already a work that has been visited by tens of thousands of people? It will be fine.”
Gary Harris mentioned by Henri Marso and Kohun.
It had been loved by the citizens and tourists of Münster since the first day of the opening, causing a sensation.
Leon König nodded his head with a vague expression, both pleased and uncomfortable.
“Are you bothered by Salvatore Orau?”
Gary Harris mentioned the Italian artist.
He had submitted a sculpture with nothing , which was a topic of a different meaning from .
“It would be a lie if I said no.”
Leon König smiled.
“I was worried until the end. I didn’t know if it was right or wrong to exhibit that work.”
Gary Harris looked into his eyes and drank champagne, meaning he understood.
Even he, who had been a critic for a long time and had experienced and handled countless modern artworks, found it hard to judge.
Should he see it as an individual’s freedom?
Or should he see it as a fraud, as most people thought?
“That’s too much.”
At the unexpected voice, the two turned their heads.
“Mr. Tanaka.”
Tanaka Hirobumi, a critic from Japan, approached and greeted them.
“You’re very firm.”
Gary Harris commented.
A critic should be careful about what he says, but he didn’t hesitate to say that it was too much. It was interesting.
“I have to be. Salvatore Orau can’t be an artist, let alone a visionary.”
“He named the air and the light. If that’s not art, then naming ready-made products is also non-art, isn’t it?”
Gary Harris couldn’t deny the invisible sculpture .
If he didn’t see as an artwork, he would also deny the ready-made, which gave new names and meanings to existing objects.
“Of course.”
Tanaka Hirobumi answered again.
“Art has changed once again.”
Gary Harris’s eyes changed, who had first regarded Tanaka Hirobumi as a person without a countermeasure.
“There was a time when ready-made was accepted as art, but that was already a century ago. Salvatore Orau is nothing but a mirror of Duchamp.”
Soon, people began to gather around them.
Everyone who was enjoying the celebration party had devoted their lives to art, so they were interested in the discourse between Gary Harris and Tanaka Hirobumi.
“Today, I saw people enjoying the unchanging value.”
Tanaka Hirobumi mentioned the works of Henri Marso and Gohun.
“They just expressed what happened at the fire station, but the citizens enjoyed it in their own way. On the other hand, there were only critics and reporters like us in front of Salvatore Orau.”
“Mr. Tanaka. Art is.”
“Art is!”
Gary Harris tried to interrupt, but Tanaka continued to speak with force.
“It doesn’t exist. Only artists exist.”
It was a very famous saying.
Art is an illusion.
If you define art, anything that deviates from that definition cannot be art.
There was no definition that could embrace all the diverse works as much as the number of people who lived and who would be born.
Therefore, there were only Millet, Van Gogh, Dali, Matisse, Picasso, and Duchamp.
You couldn’t define what art was.
Only the person who made the artwork and the person who enjoyed it expanded the realm of art a little bit.
“Delusions that only vary the actions of the past masters are not art. They are frauds. On the other hand, look at the works of Henri Marso and Gohun. They share emotions better than anyone, even if they are not abstract.”
was a work that interacted.
The visitors understood and accepted according to their own experiences and drew out new values from it.
It was an artwork that people who were not interested in art, who did not know art, enjoyed.
“This era clearly shows what kind of artist it accepts.”
As Tanaka Hirobumi finished his speech, Leon Koenig smiled softly beside him.
“I heard you well. I’m looking forward to what kind of article you will write. It would be great for public art education.”
“…I’m sorry.”
Tanaka Hirobumi moved his seat and Gondo Masuda, who came with him, followed him in a hurry.
“Teacher! Teacher!”
“…”
“Why did you say that? It sounds like Gohun did something great.”
“You.”
“Yes?”
“Did you really have no thoughts when you saw the unchanging value?”
Gondo Masuda blinked his eyes.
“People were enjoying it first. The old man, the uncle, the kids who had no interest in art.”
“That’s true. But that’s just because it’s related to them.”
“No!”
Tanaka Hirobumi’s voice echoed in the hallway.
“No.”
It was something that he couldn’t do no matter how hard he tried.
The art world said that the art world had developed by packaging the works as investment products and increasing the transaction amount, but the reality was different.
The Galapagosized art world was losing population every year.
But he witnessed for the first time the spectacle of the public approaching first.
The contrasting reactions of the public to and had shocked Danaka Hirobumi.
“Educating? Teaching ignorant citizens? How arrogant is that?”
“Teacher.”
“Becoming friends? Does that happen by just sitting there blankly? It’s a relief if they don’t bother me!”
“Teacher, why are you acting like this?”
“I’m ashamed. Ashamed.”
At the place where the so-called critics gathered, the words that they still aimed for education came out.
And the fact that they couldn’t call the illusion that only repeated the past non-art.
He was ashamed that he had been like that too.
1)Population 300,000, students about 55,500 as of 2017.
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter