The Versatile Master Artist

Mrs. Sakai looked at Mona’s ”Self-portrait” and shook her head quietly.

In her view,

this little girl is really not suitable for learning painting. She could study fashion design, graphic advertising, architectural art, or simply take ordinary cultural classes.

All would have a better future than studying painting.

The fairest thing about cultural subjects like Maths, Physics, and Chemistry is that a student only needs to work hard to achieve good grades.

Studying is one of the few endeavors in life where effort and reward almost always correlate positively.

However, painting is different.

It’s not that Mona isn’t smart, nor that she’s not hard-working... she just lacks the innate talent that her daughter Koizumi Katsuko possesses, and this ”Self-portrait” is proof.

Excellent painters can easily distinguish the priorities in a picture.

”Unless a painting is specifically meant to portray a figure of significant identity, like a King, Knight, or Priest, the portrait is always the most important part of the image. Miss Sande Nu, I can tolerate the deformity in your portrait, the empty gaze, the lack of emotion in the face... I can understand these as issues with your skills.”

”But the most unacceptable point of this painting is — you’ve clearly spent much more effort on the attire than on the figure itself. It’s unclear in theme, overshadowing the subject. This isn’t just a technical issue, it’s a mistake in artistic thinking. The more you try, the worse the image gets.”

Mrs. Sakai shook her head helplessly.

This is a talent issue, the most brutal aspect of art.

Children drawing without guidance making such a mistake isn’t inconceivable.

Yet, she herself put the comment ”backward priorities” on her portfolio, and this girl remains puzzled.

It indicates she truly doesn’t possess the talent for this path.

”Professor, but this was advised by an upperclassman from the Royal Academy of Arts on my sketches.” Mona frowned tightly, ”He once said there was no problem with this painting.”

”So what?” Mrs. Sakai shrugged in response.

The Royal Academy of Arts, ranked among the top thirty art institutes globally.

It sounds impressive, but for someone at Mrs. Sakai’s level, it’s still child’s play.

Hundreds and thousands of art students get into prestigious schools, but how many eventually become artists?

”Clearly, he’s just a mediocre person without much artistic talent, misguiding others.” Mrs. Sakai said dismissively.

Mrs. Sakai always judged talent based on the potential to become an artist.

Most ordinary art practitioners, even some mid-level painters, because of a lack of higher experience, are far from reaching the point of competing in talent.

An ordinary person with poor talent can still become a middle-class artist or get into a prestigious art academy through more effort.

But if one’s goal is set merely at this level, it’s not worth Mrs. Sakai’s teaching.

”The Royal College of Art’s graduate... you mean Hank from the 09 batch.” Fitz, the oil painting teacher at the school, spoke up as he passed by.

With a big name like Mrs. Sakai visiting an international school, not only are the students excited, but even these oil painting teachers often bring a small chair to sit in and listen during classes.

Adults are more aware of the weight of such elite figures from eminent artistic families.

To befriend someone like Mrs. Sakai is something the oil painting teachers wouldn’t dare dream of; just being able to listen to her classes is fantastic.

Upon hearing about the graduate from the Royal Academy of Arts, the oil painting teacher immediately recalled.

Hank from 09,

when he got into the Royal College of Art for graduate studies, it stirred a sensation on campus, with related information all over the bulletin boards.

Even if Hank’s undergraduate wasn’t from the Royal College of Art.

Compared to Germany and France, the one-year graduate program from Great Britain is almost the weakest in all of Europe, but for a student from Myanmar to get into such a school for graduate studies.

It’s like a student from a small local high school finally getting into Tsinghua for a master’s, an inspiring tale, and he even returned to Fitz to do a motivational talk.

”If I recall correctly, Hank studied fashion design.” The oil painting teacher shook his head, as if corroborating Mrs. Sakai’s words, ”He’s specialized in fashion, so it’s normal for issues to arise in guiding oil painting.”

”’My Daughter Georgia,’ that painting is also...” Mona suddenly murmured.

The oil painting teacher didn’t react immediately.

But Mrs. Sakai’s eyes suddenly lit up.

”Yes, it is indeed ’My Daughter Georgia,’ thinking of this Naomi Alexander’s painting is great.”

Mrs. Sakai looked at Mona repeatedly, as if reassessing this girl, nodding approvingly, ”That famous painting is a classic example of light clothing, heavy figure. Even the clothing texture was specially guided to focus more attention on the figure’s face.”

Such quick extrapolation.

Perhaps, my earlier judgment was too hasty.

This Miss Sande Nu still has some spirit.

Mona was no longer concerned about what Mrs. Sakai was saying. She wasn’t even listening to the details of what Professor Cruz said afterward.

”Overshadowing the subject,” ”The intricate clothing overshadowed the figure’s original features and details.”

These comments kept echoing in Mona’s mind, like a giant bronze bell clanging beside her ears, making her brain hurt and face pale.

It wasn’t because the professor’s criticism was too harsh for her to accept.

It’s because—she vaguely recalled someone had once said the same thing near her.