Painting, painting, and still painting.
The highly repetitive and tedious work soon made the lively Yakai Gangchang feel wrist soreness and arm weakness, making it hard to continue.
Compared to paper drawing, the tools used in wall painting have longer handles, and sometimes even heavy grinding tools are used to treat mineral pigments, which is physically demanding.
Holding the tip of the brush, his gaze dull and still, staring at the small ant in front of the pen as it circled three times at the wall's seam.
The young man realized... being a salted fish doesn't seem so bad after all.
What painter, what craftsman, sounds grand. Look at those old guys, aren't they all becoming painters and masters themselves, leaving the hardest and most tiring work to me?
What's the difference from ancient painters who drew the patterns well and then ordered around the apprentices?
Yakai Gangchang murmured quietly.
He turned his head, looking at the group under the tree shade playing with their phones and playing poker, feeling quite envious.
Dull work isn't something everyone can keep up with continuously.
Including the Sakai siblings, Gu Weijing, and other juniors or students close to the invited painters, as well as senior groups from various art academies coming for internships, there were about thirty to forty "young painters".
They didn't have fixed task assignments; wherever coloring was needed, they'd be assigned by staff to a small sign with a number to complete the corresponding job.
After finishing the first task, if they didn't want another or were simply tired, they could just find a place to hang around.
You can do whatever you want, as long as you don't interfere with others painting, no one really cares.
That's just Elder Cao's way of saying: "Get lost."
"If you don't want to work, you don't have to, it's fine; there's no forcing, the wall painting doesn't need you just putting on a show"—this was agreed upon from the start.
The project had only reached its second day, and many students already felt tired.
There are many kinds of internships; of course, wanting to learn something is an internship, but coming with the intention of gaining some experience to graduate well or simply to coast through a big project for some prestige can also be considered "internship".
Painting is like soccer.
Not every student at a soccer school wants to become a star; some people just want to be physical education teachers with a stable job.
The art world is often more challenging to reach the top than football.
Those lazing under the tree have already realized they likely won't become famous or household names in their lifetimes.
Among them are students from art academies looking to graduate easily, and some who aren't short on money have parents swinging their cash to boost their family's taste and artistic training, anonymously squeezed into some master painter's studio.
They have a clear understanding of their positioning.
For those underage, getting some experience to enter a decent art academy proves worthy of their parents' money.
Graduates can list a cooperative project with Elder Cao on their resume, then easily find employment at some European art gallery or private museum, drawing a five to eight thousand dollar annual salary while leisurely skirting work.
After all, they don't plan to venture far down the painter's path, so playing cards with staff, fiddling with phones, even if getting a few scornful looks from older painters, they can comfortably brush it off with a thick skin.
But in the art world, this kind of clear self-recognition, realizing early on a lack of talent or endurance, often leads to decent outcomes.
What is most troubling is those incompetents everywhere who look down on things left and right.
Believing themselves to be Van Gogh reincarnate, a painting saint on earth.
Such people think every critic of their art doesn't understand squat and resentfully classify their failures as peers' jealousy and suppression.
The result — they torment both themselves and their families.
Yakai Gangchang still thought he had potential, but this kind of work was really boring.
Looking at those happily lounging art students under the tree made his already tired arms suddenly so sore he couldn't lift them.
He gazed intently, like a lazy dog seeing a warm bed, a salted fish seeing a frying pan.
The next second.
His whole body was engulfed in a massive shadow.
"Gangchang?"
Just as Yakai Gangchang was internally struggling, the round and rotund Uncle Sakai somehow rolled over.
Hearing this voice, Yakai Gangchang straightened his back instantly, nearly spilling the entire palette all over the floor.
His father, Yakai Ichiro, didn't possess a typical Japanese paternal demeanor.
He never sternly scolded with a stick or harshly rebuked boys for lacking backbone or perseverance.
Whenever Yakai Gangchang did something wrong, Yakai Ichiro would look at Koizumi Katsuko to the side, then back to his son, sighing helplessly.
"Sigh..."
The look was as if beholding a failed product that should have been wiped off the wall long ago.
Such a gaze left a deep and lasting wound in young Gang Chang's heart.
Sometimes it really wasn't that Yakai Gangchang didn't try hard enough; it was just that his sister was simply too outstanding.
Being siblings, no one knew more than Yakai Gangchang about the pain of being overshadowed by a genius.
Just like the earlier pen drawing, if his sister hadn't been drawing alongside him, his work would have been excellent.
But in comparison to Koizumi Katsuko's work, it turned into the "not bad" that Lin Tao lightly remarked.
Uncle Sakai cast his eyes on his son, scrutinizing him.
"Here, here, and here..."
Yakai Gangchang felt grateful for the work he had completed that morning, quickly pointing out the colored monks' prayer flags to his father. Like a salted fish suddenly executing a jumping carp maneuver, he miraculously bounced back just in the nick of time before falling into the sizzling pan.
Yes, yes, yes.
The master has been working all along.
"Hmm."
Noticing his son hadn't been slacking off, Uncle Sakai emitted a fairly satisfied nasal sound.
"How's it?" Yakai Gangchang asked eagerly, like a salted fish bouncing back and forth on the ground.
"Not—"
Yakai Ichiro originally meant to say not bad.
Coloring within the lines isn't technically challenging, yet it is a good opportunity to test and refine a young person's quality of character. Uncle Sakai found his performance acceptable and planned to take him out for dessert under the guise of inviting him to dinner that evening.
Just as he was about to speak.
The plump uncle suddenly changed his tune.
He turned his attention elsewhere, casually inspecting other works on mural No.9.
"Huh? All of these were painted by you; you didn't take a break the whole morning."
Uncle Sakai asked after shifting his gaze to the other side of the mural.
Gu Weijing nodded.
"Good, really diligent, I can tell from the linework you've been very serious..."
Wait a minute.
What about me, what about me? I've been diligent, too. I've been serious, at least I've persisted in the sunshine for an entire morning!
Where is my praise?
Your compliment was just at the tip of your tongue, wasn't it? Speak up; a child needs loud encouragement! Why does my praise get gloriously ignored like this?
Gangchang stood on the spot, tapping his toes, while the salted fish frantically flapped its tail, attempting to capture his father's attention.
"But why is this part left blank?"
Without even glancing at him, Uncle Sakai had his attention fully captivated by the wall art; he had actually seen the drafts of this mural. The middle-aged man gazed at an uncolored lotus flower, where Gu Weijing had clearly opted to avoid.
"Because I didn't understand the color formula for this draft."
Gu Weijing flipped through the draft in his hand.
He treated this coloring experience as a learning opportunity alongside seasoned old painters.
The draft in his hand meticulously documented how each color region should be processed, what proportion of colors to use, and what brushwork to apply.
It appeared simple, but each time before he applied color, Gu Weijing would ponder in his mind how he would handle it if it was his own painting, then cross-reference with the draft.
Correct if wrong, encourage what is right.
He took out the draft at hand.
"The color formula here states that the blossom center, the technique akin to color dots, off-white (6, 3)."
In the project, each mineral pigment had a basic code.
The core principle of mural restoration is preservation, rather than "beautification," and by convention, all works in the project should simultaneously focus on showcasing both aesthetic and historical value.
Including the newly planned mural this time, efforts should be made as much as possible to restore the traditional pigment hues based on documentary research, rather than directly using lead white or titanium white, or even acrylic.
The annotations on Gu Weijing's draft simply indicated that the painter suggested using mineral pigment No.6 for off-white, with the number 3 representing the color's depth.
There can be up to four numbers.
If there's no annotation or a number 1 is noted, it means to use normal color, while 3 indicates a third level of pale white, slightly lighter than normal color but darker than transparency, akin to the color of clouds.
"If it were me, I would use a deeper number color; I don't understand why use No.3 pigment for such a light color."
Gu Weijing said.
Various murals have different pigment applications, yet all roads lead to Rome.
Art is never an isolated field; this Asian-style mural can greatly enhance his ability to control lines, colors, and structures. Gu Weijing has a background in Chinese Painting, which sees the highest improvement, and other artistic techniques would also make some progress, even inspiring reflections on the entire art style.
The blossom centers in the mural sometimes use glittering gold powder for highlighting; if gold powder isn't used, overly transparent colors won't be applied for contrast.
"Is that so."
Uncle Sakai patted his fourth chin.