The Versatile Master Artist

Koizumi Katsuko hesitated for a few seconds.

She kneeled down, picking up the balls of paper scattered at Gu Weijing’s feet one by one and unfolding them.

Koizumi Katsuko carefully looked through all the sketches in her hand and then glanced at the Xuan paper in front of the boy.

”Stop drawing, your mind is too chaotic; continuing like this won’t lead to any improvement.”

Shengzi dipped her palm in the soft bucket filled with lake water beside her, walked behind Gu Weijing, and gently caressed his hot forehead and temples.

”Let’s stop drawing for now and go rowing for a while. Once you’re relaxed, calm and composed, your spirit will naturally allow you to create good art. Come on, let’s have a bit of fun.” Koizumi Katsuko comforted, attempting to change Gu Weijing’s mood.

Continuing like this won’t lead to any improvement.

Gu Weijing’s heart skipped a beat.

Indeed.

Even if Shengzi is a layperson when it comes to Chinese painting, she could still tell at a glance that continuing like this wouldn’t lead to improvement.

”What if I never improve, what then?”

Gu Weijing finally lifted his gaze from the Xuan paper, turning to look at the charming girl beside him, but his eyes held a touch of despair.

Koizumi Katsuko furrowed her brow slightly.

She could sense the low spirits of the boy beside her, though she didn’t understand why Gu Weijing, who was fine in the morning, had suddenly fallen into this emotional state.

But that hollow, dejected, and forlorn expression filled Koizumi Katsuko’s heart with pity.

The girl took a step forward, spreading her arms, trying to give him a comforting hug like she used to, to help him temporarily forget everything that was troubling him.

”How could it be? Of course, you can do it. Your talent astonishes even my father. You’re my Monet. Don’t you believe in yourself?”

Gu Weijing stepped back slightly.

”Shengzi, if I’m not as talented as you think I am, would you still like me?” he asked sadly.

”Hey, hey, hey, don’t dwell on such things. Mr. Gu, your talent and who you are as a person are one and the same. I love every part of you.”

Koizumi Katsuko vigorously scraped his temple with her fingers, hoping to wake him up a bit.

The effect was minimal.

Gu Weijing merely redirected his gaze back to the table, his eyes looking heartbreakingly forlorn.

”Shengzi, perhaps I’m not your Monet.”

He said slowly.

If Gu Weijing could calm down and observe with a sufficiently intelligent and insightful third-party perspective, he’d realize that he wasn’t as inadequate as he imagined.

He had simply fallen into a whirlpool of low spirits.

This whirlpool of self-doubt often acts as the greatest stumbling block in the careers of great artists and is the reason many creators in literature and art end up causing harm to themselves in their agony.

The Buddhist school calls it Karmic Obstacles.

The Taoist school calls it the Demons of the Heart.

In the field of artists, it often manifests as fear of talent dissipating, and the exhaustion of creative resources, coupled with uncertainty about the future.

Not every artist encounters this, but at some point in their lives, most great painters can’t avoid being ensnared by such emotions.

Or rather,

this is the actual major barrier on the career path of a painter.

A few people can see through it, achieving a breakthrough and being reborn.

Most will be brought down by this sensation, and this self-doubt forms an everlasting sense of pain in their professional careers.

This is the primary reason Lady Tang Ning said such words in an interview with the reporter.

She wasn’t just harshly throwing out garbage talk.

Come on, for someone worth millions per minute, with such precious time, would she spare time during an important interview to harshly critique a nobody from Yangon?

Tang Ning certainly didn’t know that Gu Weijing had a system.

This system, a cheat tool, allowed Gu Weijing, deep in his heart, to remain unable to escape the inferiority complexes brought about by his original family environment, regardless of what achievements he attained.

What’s the big deal?

Even someone as great as Van Gogh constantly revealed his despair with life, fear of losing inspiration, and disillusionment with the world during interactions with Gauguin, filled with a lack of self-confidence.

Before finally pulling the trigger, he nearly drove Gauguin insane.

Monet didn’t fare much better. In letters, he described himself as the puppet of inspiration, even in his later years when he had already achieved great success and fame.

Monet, in letters to friends, would occasionally reveal, ”At times, I’m full of confidence, feeling like an angel with a special mission on earth, capable of anything. Yet, at other times, I feel I merely got lucky with a kiss from the Muse Goddess. If one day she stops kissing me, and I lose my painting magic, my only option will be to take my life,” reflecting this odd self-deprecating phrasing.

Tang Ning knew that the smaller the place and the poorer the background of the painter, the harder it was to break free from such inner demons.

Van Gogh and Gauguin were such examples.

What virtue or ability did Gu Weijing have to be an exception?

Any bit of such negative emotion in Gu Weijing’s heart would be continuously amplified and torn apart by her words, ultimately tangled in thought until it plunged him deep into a quagmire.

When a painter begins to doubt themselves, they lose the courage to create. Even true geniuses in that moment become indistinguishable from mediocrity.

This is the mind game of the art industry.

Either refrain from harsh words or strike hard.

Lady Tang Ning understands the art field too well.

Gu Weijing was far stronger than he imagined, though he was still an unknown little painter.

Yet, from Mr. Cao Xuan’s tone and attitude when mentioning Gu Weijing, and Professor Lin Tao’s appreciation for this young man when she deliberately and accidentally mentioned him, Tang Ning sensed a crisis.

So,

she delivered a fatal blow.