Van Gogh Reborn!

Chapter 262:

Reborn Van Gogh 262

Admission (5)

I heard from Michel what kind of environment Rabani lives in.

He lives with his mother in a shabby one-room building without even wallpaper, and it’s full of mold.

He wants to find a better house because his mother’s health is not good.

Michel and I tried to help him, but Rabani and his mother refused, saying they couldn’t take on a debt they didn’t know if they could pay back.

Rabani got up quietly.

“I’m saving up, even though it’s small. Maybe someday I can go to a bigger place.”

“You will.”

Fabre supported Rabani.

Chashi-hyun, who could understand simple conversations, also cheered him on after sensing the atmosphere.

“Are you working already?”

Chashi-hyun asked awkwardly, and Rabani nodded shyly.

“Yeah. I’m cleaning at the Marso Gallery.”

“How old are you?”

“15.”

I told Chashi-hyun, who was weak in French numbers, that he was 16 in Korean age, and he was surprised.

They seemed to get along well, so I interpreted for them so they could have a good conversation.

“That’s cool.”

“Cool?”

“Yeah! I’ve never earned money before. That’s awesome.”

Rabani scratched his neck, embarrassed.

“It’s nothing. I pick up trash. I tidy up the flower beds. I hand out candy. I don’t do anything special.”

“No.”

Fabre stepped in.

“People who visit the Marso Gallery feel good because of that. It’s something special.”

Rabani pursed his lips between the two kids who said his work was cool and special.

“Yeah. Actually, I can buy pastels and sketchbooks now, and I don’t have to starve.”

Chashi-hyun and Fabre nodded at his modest bragging.

Maybe it was because he felt recognized.

Rabani gathered his courage and continued his story.

“This is just a dream. A real dream.”

“Yeah.”

“Someday, I want to draw warm pictures like Hoon or Marso.”

“You’re doing that already.”

“Huh?”

Rabani tilted his head.

“That’s what you’re doing.”

I pointed to the observatory that Rabani drew today.

“It’s warm.”

He uses pastels very well.

Maybe it’s because he used one material for a long time and handled it carefully, but Rabani’s pictures have a cozy sentiment that can be expressed with pastels.

“Time will solve the technical stuff. It’s not an important era for that.”

Fabre agreed.

Well-drawn pictures are not very important among art lovers these days.

Everyone can draw realistically.

A good work is one that contains one’s own emotions and thoughts, and how they are conveyed.

“Yeah.”

Rabani answered softly, and Chashi-hyun, who was watching quietly, asked me.

“I still want to draw well, though?”

“You’ll learn faster if you do. It won’t hurt.”

“You said before that you don’t need to go to art school.”

“I said that because I was afraid you’d lose your personality.”

There’s a big difference between having an advisor by your side or not.

Art school will definitely help Chashi-hyun and Rabani reach the level they want.

I also learned how to depict realistically from seeing the works of my grandfather, Jang Mi-rae, and Marso.

That also expanded the area I could express.

But the reason I said I didn’t need to go to art school was because I remembered the Royal Academy of the past.

It’s the same reason why my grandfather and Jang Mi-rae worry about college entrance art, I don’t need to lose my personality by jumping into uniform education.

It’s better than ruining yourself.

I conveyed that thought, and Chashi-hyun nodded.

“So you mean don’t follow what they teach you?”

“Right.”

“There’s a lot to learn. I wish Rabbani could learn too.”

Rabbani looked gloomy.

“…There’s no one who will accept me.”

As Rabbani’s expression worsened, Chashihyun urged him to translate. He was shocked to hear that he had been rejected because he was a Muslim.

“Why? Did he do something bad?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“I know, right?”

Rabbani and his parents were just trying to live their lives.

He wished others would recognize that, but it wouldn’t be easy as long as extremists like IS and Taliban kept carrying out terrorist attacks.

They should realize that they were hurting other Muslims because of their actions.

“Mr. Pusang will take you in.”

Fabre stepped in.

“Who is Mr. Pusang?”

“He’s the principal of Henri IV Middle School. He also teaches art.”

He had only met him once, but Marso and Fabre recommended him so highly that he must be a good teacher.

“I hope so.”

Rabbani muttered.

“You just have to go.”

“Huh?”

“There’s a scholarship system, so if you look into it, you’ll find a way. Even if you can’t enroll right away.”

He could easily help him with the tuition, but he didn’t want to receive one-sided support from Michel either.

He had a strong sense of independence, so it would be enough to just find him a way to benefit.

He would do well on his own.

“But I’m too old.”

“Age doesn’t matter. There are people of different ages in the same grade. Right?”

He asked Fabre for agreement, and he nodded quickly.

“I’ll lend you a book to study for the exam. I have the one I used this time.”

He hesitated when he heard that he had a textbook that he used to prepare for the entrance exam.

He would have been fine normally, but he was so serious about wanting to learn.

“You can do it.”

Chashihyun cheered him on again.

As he was brushing his teeth after dinner, Chashihyun said something remarkable.

“Rabbani is very poor, right?”

“Yeah.”

“But he works hard. And he has a dream.”

He must have felt something when he saw him taking the entrance-related textbook, even though he hadn’t looked into the scholarship system.

“Can he get in?”

He spat out the toothpaste.

“I’ll try to find out.”

“What if he can’t? What will happen to Rabbani?”

“It won’t matter.”

He rinsed his mouth with water.

“How can it not matter? Learning is important, you said.”

“I’ll keep trying. If I don’t give up, there will be a way. You and Fabre can help me too.”

“Dad said there are things that can’t be done with just effort.”

“There are.”

Not everything is possible.

He had struggled in the past, but he eventually lost the fight against the plague.

“But if you don’t try, nothing will change. No matter how much you, Fabre, and Michel want to help, it’s useless if Rabbani doesn’t want to.”

“True.”

“On the other hand, if you try hard, you can seize the opportunity that comes by chance.”

What if Rabbani hadn’t caught Michel’s eye?

He might have been in a worse situation than he is now, worrying about his meals.

He would have been harassed by the bad guys, and he might not have been able to draw pictures without money to buy pastels.

But he believed that someday a path would open up if he didn’t give up on his dream.

Just like Michel reached out to Rabbani, who wanted to draw and live a better life.

“…”

Chashihyun looked somewhat depressed.

“What’s wrong?”

“You, Rabbani, Fabre, and the other kids are all doing your own thing, but I feel like I’m not doing anything.”

“Why don’t you do anything? You’re good at studying.”

There were few people as knowledgeable as Cha Si-hyun, even among adults, let alone his peers.

Most Korean elementary school students had a high level of education, but Cha Si-hyun was exceptional among them.

“Not that.”

“You’re doing your best in your own way.”

He had to maintain his test scores, learn to draw, worry about how to improve the relationship between his grandfather and father, and deal with the wounds he received from his classmates.

He was already trying hard enough, but he felt guilty for not pursuing his dream.

“Everyone has different situations. You can’t just start working like Rabbani right now.”

He nodded after some thought.

It was true that Rabbani, who earned his own living expenses at a young age, was admirable and proud, but that didn’t mean Cha Si-hyun had to follow him.

They just had to do their best in their own circumstances.

“Maybe I’m jealous.”

“Of what?”

“I want to draw with you like Rabbani or Fabre.”

Cha Si-hyun mentioned the street paintings in the Dallida Square, unlike the mural he drew at the Bugrenelli Shopping Mall.

“I heard your story and saw the video, and I really wanted to do it. But I can’t live here.”

He took out a chocolate from the drawer.

“Didn’t you brush your teeth? You’re eating again?”

“It’s okay. It’s mint chocolate.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s similar to the taste of toothpaste.”

The taste of other foods would be weird after brushing your teeth, but mint chocolate was fine because it was already weird.

He put one chocolate in his mouth.

“Did it look fun?”

“Yeah.”

“Right. It was fun. I’ll do it again next year.”

Cha Si-hyun envied him.

“If you come during the vacation, we can do it together.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I can adjust that much.”

He raised his hand and smiled.

“You can do that much work even if you don’t live in Paris. How you draw is up to you.”

“Yeah…”

He could draw as much as he wanted, even if it wasn’t Paris.

“The reason I came to Paris is.”

“Because of Mr. Marso?”

“That’s one reason. I was curious about how the gap was developed.”

“Yeah.”

“Another reason is that it was the place where I couldn’t spread my dream.”

“Dream?”

He nodded.

At the end of the 19th century.

He had settled on the hill of Montmartre, following his dream of becoming a painter.

Paris was the capital of art then and now, and Montmartre was a place where people who were out of the mainstream gathered.

Just like now, there were Muslims, poor people, and poor artists.

But interestingly enough, the people who worked in Montmartre, which was full of weirdos in the eyes of the nobles, are now recorded in the history of art.

“Do you know? There were Manet, Monet, Degas, Vincent, Lautrec, Picasso, and Matisse in Montmartre.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

The great painters who represented the 19th and 20th centuries loved the not-so-great village.

“There were a lot of outsiders in Montmartre. They accepted even strange people easily.”

“I guess Van Gogh would have been like that too.”

“…”

“But? What does that have to do with it?”

Cha Si-hyun urged him to explain, and he continued his story, soothing his painful heart.

“It means that it was okay to try something different. In the center of Paris, people who were not recognized and ridiculed could show their works freely in Montmartre.”

Montmartre produced many beloved artists even now, just because different beings could coexist.

“Is that so important?”

“Yeah. It’s important. Because I can be myself.”

“I don’t understand well.”

“It’s easier to think of it as personality.”

“Personality?”

“It’s knowing who you are, and developing yourself by interacting with others. That’s why your work can only get better.”

Cha Si-hyun nodded as he listened to the story.

“Like you and Mr. Marso?”

“Right.”

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