"Did you paint this?"
Mr. Gu pondered for a mont, then asked a question that he himself thought was quite foolish to ask.
He couldn’t understand how a young person could possess such excellent painting skills.
This couldn’t be explained by leaps and bounds; it was practically an epiphany.
It was an unimaginable ascension in place.
If he hadn’t seen with his own eyes from the window that this was a piece his grandson painted stroke by stroke, Old Gu would have thought it was the work of a master-level artist.
"Did your school get a new art professor?"
Ordinary schools in Myanmar rarely offer specialized art classes, and like most Eastern families, the Gu Family has always been generous when it cos to education.
Gu Weijing attended the art class of a renowned private international school in Yangon.
Of course, its tuition was as famous as its educational quality.
If the school could invite so experienced older professors to rigorously train the fundantals, then also...
"Still hard."
Mr. Gu looked at the colored pencil drawing in front of him and assessed.
This wasn’t an issue of changing teachers.
He was already sowhat famous in the local city, and frankly speaking, he thought that even during the peak of his painting skill two decades ago, he was almost there, after all, as a professional painter, nobody practices fundantals daily without doing anything else.
And as he grew older, his hand was no longer as steady as it used to be.
"No, I was just in a very good state; if I were to do it again, I definitely couldn’t produce such a work," Gu Weijing replied honestly.
"It’s already impressive."
The old man nodded.
Gu Tongxiang obviously wanted to appear more serious, so as not to make his grandson too proud, but he couldn’t help his lips from slightly curving upward.
"Even if a blind cat chanced upon a dead mouse, it’s still the accumulation of skill through practice. When I was your age... overall, the level of brushwork was still slightly inferior to this."
Saying this even made the old man blush a little.
Getting old, he thought to himself.
He pondered while holding the sketch in his hand and didn’t give it back to Gu Weijing.
Mr. Gu found a fra of suitable size and had his grandson sign his na and the date on the border, then simply fixed the small colored pencil drawing in the fra.
"Why use a fra?"
Gu Weijing was sowhat puzzled.
Sketches and colored pencil drawings differ from oil paintings; unless the piece is extraordinarily valuable, the family seldom uses special fras for mounting.
The more ticulous ones usually just spray so fixative and store the piece in a portfolio.
Works like these practice pieces are often simply destroyed and discarded.
He had heard that in the 1980s, so people had even made a tidy profit just by rummaging through the trash bins of masters.
Of course, these were all old stories.
Nowadays, professional studios have a very mature process, often using paper shredders to dispose of waste drafts to prevent their artists’ works from accidentally leaking out.
Old Gu didn’t respond.
The old man ticulously fixed the drawing in the fra.
Then he slowly started to speak.
"I was going to teach you a lesson, but after seeing your artwork, I feel there’s nothing more I need to say."
"Grandpa, you misunderstand, this isn’t my usual level," Gu Weijing replied, not having such a thick skin.
"No matter, you’re only seventeen, with a long career ahead of you. If you can paint the first one, you can paint a second one; one day, this will beco your normal level."
The old man said casually.
Mr. Gu selected an appropriate spot and hung the fra next to an impressionist oil painting by an artist who had participated in an art exhibition in New York, writing on a sticky note beside the fra with a pen.
[Category: Colored Pencil Drawing (11×15 inches)]
[Artist: Gu Weijing (Initials G.W.)]
[Price: 500$(MMK:1,061,500)]
"500 dollars?"
Gu Weijing looked at the price tag.
MMK is the ISO code for the Myanmar currency. A little over a million Myanmar Kyats plus the usual exchange rate fluctuations approximately equals five hundred dollars.
He felt a little exasperated, "Grandpa, no tourist would spend 500 dollars to buy one of my pencil drawings."
Many people don’t understand the operational model of a calligraphy and painting shop or gallery.
Galleries are divided into several kinds, such as Galerie Perrotin, Lisson Gallery, Gagosian Gallery... These kinds of major galleries could be considered as the helm of the entire art market.
To use the most famous example, Gagosian Gallery, its founder is the renowned Art Tsar Larry Gagosian, a madman who opened an art gallery in the red light district.
So people love him; so people hate him. His galleries are situated in London, Ro, Paris, Tokyo, Hong Kong... Over a dozen nad Gagosian Galleries around the world have their own signed artists, with annual transactions asured in billions of dollars.
These galleries are the world’s largest art promoters, described by art dia as having the magic power of turning stone into gold. Whether a painting is worth a million or ten million is decided by these galleries.
The rest are the countless unknown small galleries around the world, which open in communities like small art museums that are free to the public.
In many European countries, people have the habit of visiting galleries, and so very small private galleries are bustling with visitors every day.
Galleries, like parks, cafes, and cinemas, are places for people to relax daily.
Elders co here for a walk, young people for their first dates... If they see a piece they like, they might be willing to spend significant amounts of money that may seem expensive.
Yangon was once a city with many foreigners, a past that can be traced back centuries. Even famous writers like Orwell or Maum had long stayed in Southeast Asia.
Daily, the Yangon River is crowded with cruise ships full of foreign tourists, and such sightseeing ships are typically only affordable for international tourists. So French or British families have for generations considered Yangon with the Great Golden Pagoda or the more prosperous Thailand as holiday destinations.
But as the environnt beca increasingly hostile and chaotic, with personal safety unguaranteed and deplorable criminals treating victims as goods to be sold off.
So places are even deed earthly hells.
The number of tourists thus drastically decreased.
Most of Gu’s Calligraphy and Painting Shop’s daily inco is still provided by these foreign tourists.
People from developed countries prefer going to galleries, not necessarily due to their artistic cells.
The fundantal reason is actually quite mundane, because they are generally wealthier.
"Crazy, right? A hand-painted oil painting by an artist in a gallery took two months and costs $3000, while a similar print online only asks for $30, with an additional $5 including a fra!"—That’s the most normal mindset.
With your parents starving at ho, and yet spending your ager monthly salary on expensive oil paintings, it’s not called highbrow, it’s called stupid [beep—].
Gu Weijing heard about an opera circle rule—"A city’s per capita GDP reaching ten thousand dollars marks the beginning of the opera industry."
In the nineteenth-century United Kingdom, the twentieth-century United States, the 1980s Japan, and post-2000 major cities on the continent, the opera started to flourish, following this principle.
The art-related market tends to follow similar patterns.
Lastly, there are the countless micro-galleries; the true sand filtering in the tide, with so just renting a room before graduating from the Art Academy, claiming themselves as an art gallery, most disbanding in a few months. But there are exceptions, Gagosian started selling posters on a balcony for 75 cents.
Is this painting worth $500?
It certainly is, and it certainly isn’t.
Whether a painting can be sold at a high price depends 30% on the skill of the painting itself, and 70% on market acceptance.
If this painting were painted by Adolf nzel himself, $5000 would be a bargain, and people willing to buy it would line up from here to the Yangon River, mainly because compared to his fa, his auction market is fairly quiet.
But the sa painting with Gu Weijing’s na wouldn’t fetch that price.
At least for now, it certainly wouldn’t, far from it.
"No, this painting has already been sold."
Gu Tongxiang shook his head, took a little blue dot sticker from the side table, and placed it on the label of the artwork.
This was the "Sold" mark.
There were a few artworks in the shop with a blue sticker, all of which already had paying buyers. After their respective exhibition periods ended, they would be sent to their respective buyers.
Gu Weijing watched in puzzlent as his grandfather took a sealed envelope from a small safe used for storing valuable items and artwork, taking out five crisp Franklins.
The young man laughed and shook his head.
"This isn’t necessary; it’s like self-praise, and so formal. But, Grandpa, you’re generous this ti, $500, I didn’t even have that much as pocket money over the past few years."
Gu Weijing smiled, reaching out to take the money.
Unexpectedly, the old man smacked his hand away.
"Young man, selling your first artwork with such a casual attitude is unacceptable."
Gu Tongxiang, with a stern face, showed no sign of joking.
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