Van Gogh Reborn!

Chapter 304:

304

The Dragon’s Den (9)

The concept art team for the movie had reached the final stage of their work on the characters and main locations in two weeks.

Thanks to the faster-than-expected progress, the props, sets, and CG staff could work with relatively more ease.

Ma Eunchan was overjoyed by the new experiences he had every day.

Of course, it was not easy to concretize the world of the novel based on a few black-and-white photos from the early 20th century.

The materials were limited, but the world they drew had to be perfect, even in the air and the light. So the concept art designers, including Ma Eunchan, had to work as passionate fans, historians, and scientists of the novel.

Ma Eunchan showed Ko Hun the completed village scene where the chase took place.

“Manager! How about this?”

“Sure!”

It was already the fifth time.

Ko Hun never accepted it at once.

He always wanted a few different pictures, even if he brought a plausible one after using his imagination and verification work.

Some designers were dissatisfied with Ko Hun’s way of handling things, but the settings he completed were never rejected by director Norman.

Thanks to that, the designers also accepted Ko Hun’s requests positively and the team was able to proceed with the work at an exceptional speed.

“Ma, it’s lunchtime. Let’s go eat.”

Austin Brown, who was Ma Eunchan’s senior, approached him, who was working with colored pencils.

“Already? No wonder I’m hungry.”

Ma Eunchan turned his head to call Ko Hun, but he was already gone.

“The manager went out first, saying he had a meeting with director Norman.”

He was so busy that he even used his lunchtime. Ma Eunchan was worried about the young Ko Hun.

On the way to the cafeteria, Austin Brown gave Ma Eunchan some advice.

“It’s hard to survive in this business if you can’t do computer work. The manager is a special case.”

“I know. It’s tiring to edit with post-its.”

Ma Eunchan agreed with Austin’s words a hundred times.

It was hard to edit the pictures he drew himself, so he had to stick post-its on the original and draw over them. But compared to the people who worked by separating the layers on the computer, his efficiency was bound to be lower.

“So I’ve been studying Photoshop all week.”

Austin frowned.

“I guess you have to use it if you have no choice, but I don’t recommend it.”

“Why?”

“It shuts down on its own when the file size gets too big.”

“There’s an auto-save feature.”

“The problem is that it also gives errors when saving. No matter how good the computer performance is, it’s not optimized, so it’s useless. If you don’t want to break your monitor, it’s better to find something compatible that you like. I recommend Infinity.”

“Infinity.”

Ma Eunchan nodded and put some food on his plate.

As they sat face to face and ate, Austin stopped Ma Eunchan from stuffing food into his mouth.

“Eat slowly.”

“I don’t have time. I have to eat fast and edit.”

“Lunchtime is an hour. No one tells you to work until you finish eating.”

Austin couldn’t understand the Asians.

Manager Ko Hun and newbie Ma Eunchan both volunteered to work extra.

They had a sense of responsibility to perform their assigned tasks, but he couldn’t understand why they wanted to work at the expense of their health.

“I can’t stand it.”

“Can’t stand what?”

“It’s fun. Drawing.”

Ma Eunchan lifted his head and smiled brightly.

He liked working alone, but he also liked creating a world with others.

When he looked at the work of his teammates together, it seemed like there was such a place in France in the early 20th century.

It was the same for Lupin and Cagliostro.

It was not drawn realistically.

The habits, gestures, accents, tastes, and other settings were so detailed that they seemed to describe someone who was living somewhere.

“Don’t you want to draw fast? Don’t you want to see the finished product?”

Austin realized that he had misunderstood Ko Hun and Ma Eunchan until now.

He thought they were living for work.

But if they enjoyed the work itself, there was nothing more to say.

“If you get sick, you won’t be able to do that fun thing. Try to have some leisure, even if it’s just lunchtime.”

“I’m fine. I’m pretty tough.”

Meanwhile.

Henri Marso, who was having lunch and exchanging opinions with Norman, got up from his seat as the conversation ended.

“See you at dinner.”

“Already?”

“I’m done eating.”

Norman was worried about Ko Hun, who was trying to leave the room without looking back.

He did a great job with his work, but he wondered if he was pushing himself too hard at such a young age, and what would happen if he had a breakdown.

“Stop there.”

Before Norman could call out to Ko Hun, Henri Marso stepped in.

“Do you have something to say?”

“Finish eating and go.”

“I’m busy.”

As Ko Hun opened the door, Henri Marso grabbed the boy’s neck.

Ko Hun was impatient to draw and hung limply, glaring at him, but it was no use.

Henri sat Ko Hun down on a chair and ordered a warm tea from the staff.

“You said you were busy?”

“There’s plenty of time.”

“I still have to draw the castle. And the confrontation scene.”

“You won’t be late if you finish eating. Why do you always look like this if you don’t care?”

“What about you?”

“That’s why you’re suffering.”

At Henri’s words, Ko Hun reluctantly picked up a fork.

He knew he had to take care of his body, and he did well on normal days, but he couldn’t help it when he started working.

He couldn’t stand his hands being restless unless he drew, and his life gradually deteriorated, and Henri Marso’s liver function was also much worse because of that.

When Henri reminded him of that, Ko Hun, who was obsessed with his work, remembered the past and was able to calm his mind for a while.

“There’s still time left. Is it because of the Grand Art Tour?”

Norman asked.

“No, it’s not. I’m all prepared.”

“Then?”

“I just want to see it as soon as possible. You’re the same, aren’t you?”

Norman smiled brightly.

He understood that feeling more than a hundred times.

As soon as it was 9 p.m., sleepiness inevitably crept in.

He had to draw the kiss scene between Lupin and Caliostro, but he couldn’t decide how to express them being attracted to each other while having different thoughts.

He was deep in thought and absent-mindedly came to his senses when he heard the conversation between Bang Taeho and Henri Marso.

They must have fallen asleep.

“It’s hard to raise a stable income with just exhibitions and sales. Not everyone is like Ko Hun and Mr. Marceau.”

“Keep trying.”

“So I want Chocolatier to play a bridging role. Like Mr. Mae Eunchan’s job this time.”

“…Are you saying we should take on outsourcing?”

“Something like that. Thanks to Ko Hun, we have a long-term contract with the Bugrenelli shopping mall. We help them to survive by bringing in work, whether it’s brand design or posters. If they can make a living, the artists will have an easier time working on their own.”

“It will also help Chocolatier stay afloat.”

“That’s right. I’ll talk to Ko Hun tomorrow.”

Bang Taeho seemed to have a lot of worries about running Chocolatier.

He was operating it with the money that Henri and I invested, but as Bang Taeho said, there had to be some income someday.

It was hard to make a living with just exhibitions and art sales, so he introduced jobs to the affiliated artists.

Like he did for Mae Eunchan.

“The gallery space is limited, too.”

“Ko Hun.”

As I went out to the living room, Bang Taeho asked me with concern.

“Didn’t you sleep? Go wash up and sleep.”

“I woke up from a nap. I heard a little bit of your conversation and I think it’s better to do as you say.”

Henri, who didn’t like me participating in the movie, might be negative.

“That would be better.”

Henri put down his teacup and said.

Unexpected.

“Why.”

“I thought you’d hate it.”

“It’s a company. There are things that can’t be solved by ideals. And what you’re doing doesn’t seem like a bad thing either.”

He seemed to be thinking of as he spoke.

He thought that the pictures he completed while working on the movie could also be works of art.

“You’re the representative. If you’ve set the direction, don’t be swayed and do it right.”

Marso demanded as usual, in his arrogant way.

He was the kind of person who wouldn’t listen to anyone if he didn’t like something, but he still acknowledged Bang Taeho as the representative of Chocolatier.

“Haha. I found some places for you. SNBA and Paris Orchestra are looking for people.”

“SNBA?”

It was the French National Association of Arts, which had a close connection with Henri.

“They are preparing a new competition. They have plenty of time, but they are looking for a way to promote it.”

Henri nodded.

“What kind of competition is it?”

“It’s like the Art Nouveau competition, where they select the most popular works. They are planning to make it like a festival, with broadcasting and everything.”

“How did you find out? It’s not even announced to the public yet.”

“They have a committee now. I found out by searching with interest. There are still more people who don’t know.”

Henri nodded again.

He knew something that wasn’t even reported in the news, and he wasn’t an insider.

It seemed unlikely that he could know it just by being interested.

“It will be held once every four years. It’s still in the preparation stage, but they plan to run it like the Olympics, the World Cup, or the Orchestra Competition.”

Henri added.

It was no exaggeration to call it the Art Olympics, if artists from all over the world gathered once every four years.

“What’s the name?”

“Quadriennale of Aube.”

“That’s the name?”

“Yes.”

The name of the international art exhibition that was held every four years (Quadriennale) was dawn (Aube).

It seemed like Henri’s trick, naming it after the dawn.

“Did you name it, Henri?”

“It was Chevalson’s idea.”

“It sounds good for participating in the dawn. Are you going to do it, Henri?”

“Of course.”

Henri stared at me and warned me.

“It’s still a long way off, so don’t think about useless things and focus on your work now. It’s 11 o’clock. Go to bed.”

“I was going to do that anyway.”

As I was about to go to my room, Henri grabbed my neck again. He did it once or twice, and now it became a habit.

“What are you doing?”

“Go wash up and sleep.”

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