"It’s Old Sun’s painting."
The old man glanced at the label on the painting scroll.
Gu Tongxiang had so impression of this painting.
The traditional painting style in Myanmar’s history is similar to Chinese Painting, but since the British ca here, the entire art style has been influenced by the West.
Nowadays, even in Myanmar, oil painting and watercolor painting are mainstream.
There are only a few recognized painters in Myanmar who follow the Eastern art route.
Gu Tongxiang, who has studied both oil painting and Chinese Painting, is one of them, and the Old Sun he speaks of is another.
He lived in Mandalay, the second-largest city in Myanmar, and had t Mr. Gu a few tis; their painting skills were on par.
Because Old Sun is relatively young, he still has room to improve, so his reputation and prices might even be slightly higher than Gu Tongxiang’s.
This painting is not large, a small painting two feet square; based on uncle’s purchase price, there is so profit, but not much.
"What’s wrong with this painting?"
Gu Tongxiang frowned.
"It’s not an issue of preservation; it’s just that I suddenly felt sothing was off when I looked at it."
Gu Weijing unrolled the scroll.
"Off, what’s off! You’re just a child, what do you know?" Since there was no problem with the painting itself, the aunt beca more upset, thinking Gu Weijing was up to no good.
Her husband was responsible for purchasing art and various social engagents; he at least worked hard even if he didn’t achieve much.
Now, before the nephew has even inherited the gallery, he’s already picking faults everywhere.
If Mr. Gu really handed over the gallery to him in the future, could their family still have good days?
"Alright, quiet."
Old Mr. Gu waved his hand to stop his daughter-in-law’s noise.
"Off? Have you shown this painting to Professor Lin Tao? Is this Professor Lin’s opinion?"
Looking at the "Cyan Bird Singing Bamboo" painting, Gu Tongxiang thought of a possibility.
"No, it’s just my personal opinion."
"Hmph, personal opinion." The aunt sneered with a drawn-out nasal tone.
Gu Tongxiang imdiately felt a bit disappointed,
Actually, when he first saw the painting, he also felt sothing was odd, thinking the composition was scattered.
But he couldn’t pinpoint the specific issue.
Mr. Gu just assud he didn’t have an eye for it.
A work that he couldn’t understand, yet Gu Weijing could.
Gu Tongxiang was still sowhat unconvinced.
He believed his grandson’s achievent in art would surpass his own, but that was in the future, not now.
Though his eldest son wasn’t good at painting, he had been following him in the art market since high school and had been exposed to the industry for many years; his judgnt was quite sharp.
Old Sun’s painting skills were no less adept than his own,
Though they belonged to the cream among the diocre.
Whole Yangon doesn’t necessarily have soone who can outdo him in Chinese Painting.
His grandson should wait a few years before attempting to appraise this level of painting and calligraphy.
"Alright, let’s hear what you think."
Gu Tongxiang wanted to patiently listen to his grandson’s opinion.
Whether right or wrong, having one’s perspective on art is ultimately not a bad thing.
"First, the artistic conception of this painting feels off."
"Look at the state of the kingfisher’s feathers and the sheen on its body; the whole picture has a wet quality, perated with a misty moisture. Yet the bamboo presents a very dry and parched feeling, sowhat discordant."
Gu Weijing spoke softly.
His fingers pointed to the bamboo joint where the kingfisher’s talons rested, and he continued, "Especially here at the bamboo joint, the entire mood of the painting breaks here... And the ink spot on this bamboo joint, Grandpa, don’t you find it a bit odd?"
Gu Tongxiang lowered his head to look at the painting, tapping his fingers lightly on the scroll.
"You an to say..."
He looked up deeply at his grandson, then lowered his head, falling into deep thought.
His grandson’s earlier words were like a lightning bolt piercing the dark night, precisely describing the sense of discordance he felt when viewing the painting.
However, what truly sent Mr. Gu into deep thought was the latter part of the sentence.
The artistic conception is inherently mysterious, seemingly present yet elusive, hard to fathom.
But whether there has been a mistake in the picture is much more direct.
They were all insiders proficient in Chinese Painting and naturally understood how bamboo should be drawn.
The ink spot on the bamboo joint — usually the smallest-sized lining brush is used, with dark ink, the brush’s middle strokes are used to dot it.
The ink spot where Gu Weijing pointed on this painting, however, looked like... it was dripped on the picture.
It’s like a computer ga of spot the difference or a mory match ga; without a reminder, Mr. Gu might never notice the issue here.
But as soon as Gu Weijing pointed it out, having worked in painting all his life, Mr. Gu imdiately discovered the problem.
Mr. Gu took out his phone and dialed a number.
"Hello, Boss Wu... Is that you? I’m Gu Tongxiang. My son previously bought a painting ’Cyan Bird Singing Bamboo’ from you... mm, mm, mm... Maybe I should give Old Sun a call... mm... no need to return it, it’s been many years of friendship... mm, let’s continue to collaborate in the future."
In just a few minutes, the old man hung up the phone again.
"What did Boss Wu say?"
The aunt had been listening intently on the side, feeling her father-in-law made a fuss about nothing, clearly making trouble where there was none.
She was curious to see how the other side would respond.
Boss Wu was the middleman who sold the "Cyan Bird Singing Bamboo" to Uncle.
Mr. Gu didn’t imdiately answer, just looked at his grandson, his gaze showed surprise, but more so, it was filled with gratification.
"My grandson is truly born for this craft."
At this mont, Mr. Gu sowhat believed that the legendary ancestor Gu Kaizhi in their family pedigree was not just a far-fetched connection; there really flowed the genes of the legendary Painting Saint in their lineage.
He had earlier phoned Boss Wu to inquire about the painting.
Initially, the middleman was dodging the question.
When Mr. Gu precisely pointed out the flaw in the picture and hinted that he could call Old Sun to inquire, the tone on the other end changed imdiately.
After all, there were only a few renowned artists in Myanmar who were skilled in Chinese Painting, and knowing or being secretly acquainted with each other was quite likely.
"It’s indeed a defective piece. Originally, Old Sun had a commissioned work of a Jiangjing Lotus Pond, but the ink stained the xuan paper halfway through, so it was cut into several small works of one and a half feet to sell."
Such a situation is not impossible;
so artists handle well-enough discarded drafts this way.
As long as both parties communicate well at the ti of purchase, it’s fine.
In this case, Boss Wu bought it at a discarded draft price, less than two hundred US dollars, and sold it to Gu’s Calligraphy and Painting Shop at four tis the price.
"Boss Wu offered to return the painting, but I refused. In the end, he refunded five hundred dollars."
Mr. Gu shook his head.
Just like antiques, once the purchase is complete, it’s non-refundable; it’s Boss Wu’s skill to turn a 200-dollar painting into an 800-dollar sale to Gu’s Calligraphy and Painting Shop.
From a business perspective, you can say the other side isn’t ethical, but there’s no fundantal wrongdoing.
Whether it was bought for a thousand or a hundred thousand dollars, you could only bla yourself.
The refund was offered because they hoped for continued business with the gallery in the future.
But Mr. Gu didn’t feel bad at all in his heart.
Firstly, Gu’s Calligraphy and Painting Shop might not incur a significant loss; even Mr. Gu didn’t see the issue initially, let alone ordinary custors.
Knowing the real story behind the painting, a conscientious dealer might add a small notice labeling it a defective item on the fra.
It may be discounted but not unsellable.
Many people actually prefer to buy such discounted pieces, as if they got a bargain.
What truly delighted him was discovering in the blink of an eye his grandson, on the path of fine arts, had in so areas, already surpassed him.
Younger generations replace the old.
For the elderly, this sort of familial legacy brings Mr. Gu imnse happiness.
It’s far more significant than getting a few hundred dollars back.
"You already have the ability to carry on our family’s legacy. When your grandpa really can’t continue any more, you’ll take over. Gu’s Calligraphy and Painting Shop will be yours in the future."
Mr. Gu, ignoring the aunt’s embarrassed expression, spoke with resolute certainty.
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