Chapter 63 (2) - The Mysterious Art Museum

Name:The Mysterious Art Museum Author:
Chapter 63 (2) - The Mysterious Art Museum

Do you know Hitchcocks Vertigo?

A mystery thriller film made in 1958 in the United States, now considered one of his masterpieces. Yet, at the time, it was just another commercial film.

Many classics we admire today were once the mainstream culture of the past, subject to criticism.

Artists, despite being the most deeply imprinted beings of their time, conform to their era and are swayed by critics.

Is Vincent van Gogh, who never sold a painting for its true value in his lifetime, the only real artist?

Does enjoying recognition and wealth in ones lifetime disqualify someone as an artist?

Why do those aiming for pure art reject the interference of popular culture?

Why dont they understand that what they do will be considered popular and mainstream culture a hundred years later?

I rested my chin on my hand, lost in thought, and let out a wry smile.

Even the great Mozart had his performance durations decided by the number of yawns from the emperor. Perhaps it's inevitable.

An artist being conscious of the publics gaze is unavoidable.This chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.com

Creating art unaffected by anyone and purely my own? Thats an incredibly difficult task.

Of course, there were those who managed to do it, though most remained as artists who starved to death during their lifetimes.

I reflected again on the dream I had today.

What should I truly learn from it?

Not to heed the critics?

To conform to the times and ride the wave of popular or mainstream culture?

No, that wasnt Klimts message.

Theres no rule saying that pure art cant learn from the advantages of popular culture.

Meeting the preferences of the masses and pursuing commercial value does not contradict the spirit of art.

Art achieves more value when it can be consumed as a daily necessity, rather than being an untouchable, noble entity.

Perhaps this is what Klimt wanted to convey?

Lost in deep thought, my phone in my pocket vibrates.

Oh, its Youngju.

- Shit.

Whats up?

Youngju started with a curse. I assumed something had happened at the theater and quickly got up to pack my things.

Whats wrong, what happened?

Taking a taxi instead of a bus should be considered sufficient respect for the other party.

Just before arriving at the hotel, I called Minyoung, who told me to come to her room.

As I entered the lobby to get a key card and went up to Minyoung's room, I heard German.

"Was hast du so gemacht? Es freut mich, Sie kennenzulernen."

"Viel zu tun gehabt fr die Uni."

Huh? Isnt that Monica's voice?

When the elevator noise ends, I hear Minyoungs voice.

Mr. Ban?

Yes, it's me.

Please come in.

As expected, Monica's voice, sounding pleased, approaches.

Junghoon!

Monica comes running.

Maybe because shes Italian, or its just her nature, she's comfortable with physical contact.

Monica asks me how Ive been while linking arms with me.

Have you been well?

Yes, Monica. How about you?

Me? Always busy. Let's go in.

Monica is always stunning, like a goddess.

Not that I have a romantic interest in her. Monica feels like an unapproachable goddess. Friendly, but always with a sense of distance.

Of course, it's the same with Minyoung.

Despite the East-West differences, they both have a similar goddess-like aura.

If I turn the corner in the hallway, Ill probably meet that pianist Youngju is so enthralled with. Shes in her 30s, so older than me. Since shes foreign, I can just call her by her name, right?

Lost in these thoughts, I step out of the hallway and bow to Minyoung, who stands up from the sofa upon seeing me, then raise my head.

And then, I froze, beholding an incredible embodiment of beauty that filled my eyes.

'Is she a person or a doll?'

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