Van Gogh Reborn!

Chapter 223:

223

Iris (3)

Daniel Scott felt like he had finally found the last piece of the puzzle.

‘This is it.’

He was thrilled to be able to cover the life of his beloved painter, but he also felt a lot of pressure.

He had so much to say that it was hard to set a clear standard.

At first, he wanted to gather various stories.

A madman who cut off his own ear.

An unfortunate painter.

A master who heralded the beginning of modern art.

There were already so many people who had told different stories about the painter Vincent van Gogh.

It was certainly a meaningful task to organize and introduce them, but Daniel Scott wanted to add one more thing.

There were many stories related to the painter Vincent van Gogh, but he wanted to shed light on him as a human being.

He wanted to tell why he had to be so desperate, rather than why he was a great painter.

The only problem was how to effectively capture it on video.

In that situation, he met Ko Hun through Martin Jansen’s recommendation, and the boy perfectly realized Daniel Scott’s wish.

The director of approached Ko Hun.

“You did great.”

Ko Hun was slightly puzzled by the softened tone.

“I was thinking of doing some interviews while touring Arles for the fourth part, would you like to join me?”

Daniel Scott’s polite attitude made Ko Hun hesitate for a moment.

He didn’t have much schedule afterwards, and he wanted to look around Arles, which he hadn’t visited for a long time, anyway, so it didn’t seem to be a big problem.

“I’ll talk to my manager and let you know.”

Daniel Scott nodded.

As Ko Hun jumped off the chair and walked towards where Go Soo Yeol and Bang Tae Ho were, Martin Jansen sneaked up to him.

“How is it?”

Daniel Scott turned his head.

Martin Jansen was smiling contentedly.

“I think I know why he’s loved.”

“Ho ho. Why is that?”

“People think of madness, excellence, sadness, death, and such images when they talk about van Gogh. That’s also part of van Gogh, but there’s a fact that they overlook.”

Martin Jansen nodded in agreement.

“That boy knows that well. He understands it deeply, I’d say. The situation, the emotion, and so on.”

“Hmm.”

“Thanks to him, we’ll be able to include more stories.”

Martin Jansen chuckled.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Jansen was about to turn around, but he remembered something he had forgotten and stopped.

“You made me pay more for his appearance fee. You better make sure of it.”

“Of course.”

“This much?”

After handing over the additional contract and taking a walk around with his grandfather, Bang Tae Ho brought back an absurd condition.

The appearance fee for the two days of additional shooting was 70,000 euros, which added up to more than 100 million won in Korean currency with the original 10,000 euros.

He was startled and looked back and forth between Bang Tae Ho and Martin Jansen.

“He deserves this much. He’s a star who won second place in the Art Nouveau competition.”

Bang Tae Ho smiled confidently.

He always brought unexpected conditions, whether it was the contract or the New Tate Modern contract.

Unlike the previous contract, it was only one episode, and he had no preparation and just shot for two more days, but 70,000 euros.

He wondered if this was okay.

“Is it okay?”

He asked Martin Jansen again, and he laughed heartily.

“Ha ha! This guy, do you think this money is too much for someone who gets millions of dollars?”

The auction was just too overheated.

He still didn’t know if was really worth 14 million dollars.

The same goes for .

At the time, he was thinking that he had to sell it at any cost, so he called for 2 million euros, but looking back now, it was an absurd amount.

If it weren’t for Henri Matisse, who was crazy about his paintings, it would have been a proposal that wouldn’t have been eaten.

“You don’t have to worry, I decided it was worth it.”

Jansen put his hand on his head.

It’s not worry. It’s unfamiliarity.

Art is something that the artist and the audience create together.

I suppose they think so, but the amount they set is shocking to me now.

I’m grateful but also unfamiliar, because my idea of the value of my paintings is different from theirs.

Maybe I didn’t want to sell my works for a high price, but rather wished for someone to buy them.

I think I can sort out my feelings like that now.

“Come on, it’s late. Let’s eat first. There’s an amazing place.”

Martin Jansen took the lead cheerfully.

Come to think of it, it was past dinner time. I was hungrier than usual because I kept talking.

As we drove in his car, a familiar sight came into view.

“Ah.”

At first, I didn’t recognize it because it was dark and so different, but when we reached the Saint-Trophime Church, old memories came flooding back.

‘It’s still the same.’

The faded bricks and the columns and statues that reminded me of the Corinthian style.

Even the old wooden door that was dear to me.

It was just like the old days.

If you turn right into the alley from here, you’ll see the ruins of the ancient theater, and if you walk a little further, you’ll find the amphitheater.

It takes less than 10 minutes from the amphitheater to the yellow house where I lived.

‘It’s a pity.’

Kevin from the Van Gogh Museum told me that the yellow house was destroyed by the war.

I followed Martin Jansen’s guidance and kept walking.

“If you go this way.”

“Oh. Do you know this place?”

How could I not?

The place where I painted appears.

As I walked on, wondering if it was possible, I felt like I had gone back 140 years.

LE CAFé LA NUIT

The yellow tablecloth and chairs.

The wall and the awning mixed with yellow and green.

On the awning, there was a green letter that said ‘Café of the Night’, and on the wall, I proudly wrote my name.

The large gas lamp that lit up the blue night and the starry night sky above it.

It was the café that I felt back then.

“Wow.”

“Isn’t it cool? Café Terrace at Night. It’s still open as it was back then.”

Martin Jansen said proudly.

“Did you buy this place?”

“It’s been about eight years. The food was not good, so I changed everything.”

The coffee wasn’t very good when I lived there either.

He must have taken over and fixed things up like Ovère Sur Uaz.

“Then did you paint that wall too?”

The wall of this café was not lemon-colored as I had expressed in .

“No, that was done in the 90s.”

“They came to see the place that Van Gogh painted and were disappointed that it was different, so they painted it the same.”

Martin Jansen and Bang Tae-ho explained alternately.

It’s amazing that the color I painted to dramatically express the light of the street lamps and the stars is now a reality.

“Come on, there’s a recommended menu, so let’s go with that.”

I also got a recommendation from Ovère Sur Uaz’s La Bu Inn.

He introduced me to the menu that I ate myself, and it was very delicious, so I followed Jansen’s recommendation this time.

It was late, so there were few customers, and the food came out quickly.

“Grandpa, try this.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m eating. Is it good?”

“It’s delicious. Yes.”

As we enjoyed our late dinner, Daniel Scott, who had been silently moving his fork, spoke.

“Do you know where the irises are now?”

I shook my head.

“They’re in Malibu.”

It’s on the west side of Los Angeles, California, USA.

They’re on display at a place called the J. Paul Getty Museum.

“I thought it was bought by an individual.”

I heard it was sold for a very high price, so I thought it was collected by a collector.

I’m glad it’s on display.

“It’s complicated.”

Daniel Scott uttered a cryptic word and tilted his head, and Bang Tae-ho stepped in.

"It was a problem with the appraisal, right?"1

Daniel Scott nodded.

“The appraisal problem?”

“Before the Paul Getty Museum tried to buy the Irises, a man named Alan Bond owned it. How much did he sell it for?”

“$53.9 million. It was the highest price at the time in 1987.”

Martin Jansen, the director of the Van Gogh Foundation, quickly told him the transaction price.

It was still an astonishing figure.

Daniel Scott explained.

“Ridiculously, Alan Bond had a debt of $5 billion. He was a guy who had no ability but went around bidding at every auction house.”

“…He had a debt of $5 billion?”

I couldn’t imagine what he did to incur a debt of $5 billion in the 80s.

“No. But how did he buy it?”

I couldn’t understand his nerve to bid $53.9 million for the painting while he had a debt of $5 billion.

“New York Sotheby’s lent him $27 million.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“The auction house lent him money?”

“It was a trick to raise the price.”

“….”

“They tainted the noble message that Van Gogh left behind. Both New York Sotheby’s and Alan Bond.”

I was speechless at the absurdity.

Grandfather opened his mouth as if he remembered the incident.

“They weren’t quiet in the international art market either. They said the buyer and the auction house colluded to raise the price of the work.”

It was plausible enough.

“Ah.”

Bang Tae-ho stirred.

“Teacher. By any chance….”

Grandfather met Bang Tae-ho’s eyes and looked somewhat flustered.

“What’s the matter?”

“No. Nothing.”

Grandfather and Bang Tae-ho shook their heads as if they were hiding something and twirled the pasta in vain.

“So once the price went up, when the Paul Getty Museum tried to buy it again three years later in 1990, they had no choice but to pay the inflated price of $53 million.”

When Alan Bond, who was in debt, failed to pay the price of the painting, the unsold was resold at the same price as before.

The same price as the one they had borrowed money and set higher.

I couldn’t have imagined such a thing when they said there was a problem with the appraisal.

There were many loopholes in the 19th century, but the actions of those who tried to gain unfair profits were really creative.

“Despicable bastard.”

Martin Jansen cursed at Alan Bond.

“He eventually got sentenced for fraud after trading Manet’s The Stroll. His whole life was a fraud.”

I finally understood why Daniel Scott said the situation was complicated.

“Like Director Jansen said, the Irises that were tainted by those despicable bastards regained their honor today with your explanation.”

“Ah.”

“Thank you very much. Van Gogh would be grateful to you too.”

The man with a nervous expression smiled faintly.

I looked at him quietly and smiled back.

“I should thank the director too.”

I meant it.

1 Van Gogh’s ‘Irises’ appraised at $60 million, JoongAng Ilbo, April 10, 1990, p. 12.

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