Chapter 91

091. An Artist's Inspiration (5)

Chairman Baek Hanguel opened his eyes.

His fingers, resting on the armrest of the wheelchair, still tapped rhythmically.

It was the most passionate dance he could perform.

Finally, the corners of his mouth, which had risen in satisfaction, twitched.

"Violin sonata. It's Wagner's piece, isn't it?"

At his words, I put down the violin and approached. I nodded as I sat on the opposite sofa.

"Yes. A musician who has been practicing with me recently was practicing this score."

"Thanks to that friend, I got to hear this piece? That's quite a favor. Did you let that friend hear this too?"

"No, I didn't have the chance."

"If so, you should definitely let them hear it. Since it gave the audience such inspiration, it must have given the performer even more."

I smiled and nodded at his words.

Just because Chairman Baek Hanguel used the word 'inspiration' doesn't mean he was going to make music.

It's nothing grand. It's not even that significant. Even the thought of taking a warm foot bath before going to bed tonight could be called inspiration.

In any case, Chairman Baek Hanguel's words were a good source of inspiration for me. They seemed like they would help Shin Soo-a.

"If the opportunity arises, I'll do that."

Instead of nodding, Chairman Baek Hanguel blinked and chuckled softly.

"Anyway, hearing the song of a great man made me feel good."

"Wagner?"

"Yes. He was a great man. In a different way from Mozart or Beethoven. From his family background, through his youth, middle age, and old age, nothing about him was ordinary. He had a truly tragic fate."

I nodded silently at his words.

It was all common knowledge, but I didn't know anything more than that.

After all, I only knew Wagner through books.

The fact that I never met him in person was a source of regret.

"He was closer to a philosopher who wanted to be a poet before he became a musician. Music was just a means. If he had picked up a pen, he would have become great just the same. In fact, he was known to be very interested in painting and had close friendships with many painters."

That could be true.

In reality, he was not known for enjoying or excelling at performing.

Compared to Franz Liszt, who dominated the social scene of his time, the contrast was stark.

He just wanted to express his thoughts through music.

But the music world was not easy.

Repeated failures. And the oppressive limits.

In despair, he suffered and eventually found the light.

"For him, opera must have been a breakthrough in expression. It was as if he finally had a canvas to paint what he valued."

"That must be it."

Thus, Richard Wagner, who created his compositions while reflecting on despair and hope.

His music seems to share similarities with Neil Houser's paintings and my compositions.

It was a pleasant time, discussing musicians with Chairman Baek Hanguel.

Talking about musicians I knew well brought back memories of Brinner, and those I didn't know inspired new ideas.

······And through it all, I was growing musically.

······

"Finally, it's complete."

As the two of them wrapped up their discussion about Wagner, Vice President Baek Sun-hwa, who had come to see her father, relayed the news.

"There's not much time left."

At Han Seo-ho's words, Vice President Baek Sun-hwa nodded seriously.

Listening silently, Chairman Baek Hanguel spoke bluntly.

"Do they think music can be made just like that?"

"Painting is the same. It can't be done just like that."

Han Seo-ho laughed and reassured him, and Chairman Baek Hanguel soon nodded, his expression softening. After a moment, Vice President Baek Sun-hwa, who had been watching curiously, returned to the main topic.

In any case, the painting needs to be hung.

So, music is also necessary.

From our perspective as the organizers, we could have gotten away with a plausible explanation even without music.

But Han Seo-ho didn't seem to have that in mind.

It wasn't about money or completeness. It was simply that the composer, Han Seo-ho, wanted the painting to be there.

"······What about the painting?"

"Here."

Vice President Baek Sun-hwa handed over a pad, and Chairman Baek Hanguel subtly moved his fingers to turn the wheelchair.

"···?"

"I won't look. I want to see it for the first time with the music at the exhibition."

Han Seo-ho chuckled and took the pad.

He looked at it for a long time.

"When will it arrive?"

"This Thursday."

"Indeed, I'll have to see it in person to get the feeling."

"Wouldn't that be too late?"

The exhibition starts next Friday, so he would have to compose the piece in just one week.

Despite Vice President Baek Sun-hwa's worried expression, Han Seo-ho smiled and shrugged.

"If it doesn't work out, I'll go and do an impromptu performance or something."

Chairman Baek Hanguel burst out laughing at this.

Vice President Baek Sun-hwa forced a smile.

The worry dissipated not because it was a light joke, but because the person who made the joke was Han Seo-ho.

#

A few days later.

I entered a space that was white wherever I looked.

Large frames hung on the walls, containing Neil Houser's paintings, which I had seen at the Guggenheim Museum.

Although ladders and other equipment were scattered around as the exhibition was still being set up, I didn't mind and admired the works again.

"···Still intense."

The paintings, capturing the moment when light and darkness meet, left a lasting impression.

I played the pieces I had composed in my head as I slowly walked through the exhibition.

Would the music make people focus more on the works, as I had imagined?

Would it enhance Neil Houser's intentions?

I checked these points, feeling satisfied as I walked through the exhibition.

I stopped at the final section.

A long frame, like a window, was mounted on a wide wall.

Beyond it lay Neil Houser's world.

It wasn't the moment the sun rose, nor the moment lightning struck.

Just a single light dropped on a black background.

Complete darkness with vivid light.

The stark contrast evoked a variety of feelings.

It was full of inspiration. Not just a musical idea, but something that made me want to pick up a brush and paint.

But, as always.

I am happy when I express myself through music. And only then can I properly express everything I want.

"···I don't need to do an impromptu performance."

Even before I transferred it to sheet music, the performance was already playing in my head.

#

······The morning of the exhibition day arrived.

The tension was as taut as violin strings, and the venue was filled with the clatter of keyboards.

There was still time before the exhibition opening.

While catering and other preparations were being set up, someone took their first step into the exhibition.

Neil Houser, who had shaved his unkempt beard, scanned the interior with tired brown eyes. He had already checked the frames' positions meticulously through photos, but seeing them in person could be different, so he scrutinized his works with a sharp eye.

The exhibition manager approached at that moment. Neil told her he wanted to check the sound setup and hurriedly walked to the very end.

A section with only one work hanging.

"······."

Music was added to the painting.

──!

The black color made of paint became even deeper.

──!

The light, breaking and spreading in various colors, became even more intense.

'···He's crazy.'

The massive painting seemed to leap out, as if it would swallow a mere human.

The owner of the painting was so stunned that his mouth dropped open.

The music had already ended.

But the immersion it created continued, without a period.

If someone hadn't called him, he would have stood there until the opening.

"Hello."

A simple English greeting.

Neil turned his head unconsciously.

And, taken aback, he drew a breath.

There.

"Han Seo-ho."

The boy who had made his painting great stood there.

#

"Is it okay for the main character to hide like this?"

In a waiting room set up in one corner of the exhibition.

The opening was approaching, and the noise outside was getting louder. The venue was filling up with invited guests.

"If I'm already here, I might interfere with the preparations."

···That's true.

At social gatherings, the main person usually arrives late.

Thinking back to the parties he had attended in the past, Neil added.

"That goes for the composer too. You're very famous, after all."

"That's why I'm hiding like this."

He chuckled, and Neil smiled back. As he peeled a cookie, he said:

"I have some questions."

"Sure, go ahead."

"What was darkness to you?"

"···?"

"What made you express such a profound darkness? To be honest, I don't have that color on my palette."

He doesn't have that color on his palette...

I thought it was an interesting statement and reflected on my own palette.

What was the greatest darkness in my life?

I always thought it was illness.

Until I saw Neil's painting for the first time, I took that for granted.

But after seeing Neil's final painting, my thoughts changed.

The brilliant light in that large painting.

It made my heart ache. Why?

Looking back, what I regretted most as I neared death was...

"Seeing the light."

"Huh?"

"Just seeing the light. Being unable to approach it."

Did it sound a bit odd?

When I looked up, I saw Neil carefully pondering.

"Usually, darkness is described as the absence of light."

"To me, seeing the light but not being able to touch it... that was darkness."

A 17-year-old boy.

But Neil listened to my story with a serious expression and even asked a follow-up question.

"······Then, what was light to you?"

"Music."

"Music... That's impressive. But."

Neil's face was full of interest.

As if he found the story incredibly enjoyable.

"Wouldn't the moment of change come? My paintings will ask the same question 10 years from now, but the answer could be different, couldn't it? A person's value is always changing."

And from his question, I spoke about what I had been thinking about while making music.

"A mirror that reflects value."

"···!"

"Is that what your paintings are?"

What I believe is the true theme of Neil's paintings.

It could be money for some.

It could be hope for others.

A mirror that reflects each person's value.

Neil, who had been looking at me with surprise, soon broke into a wide smile.

"A mirror that reflects value... Many people have recognized my theme, but no one has called it that before. I really like that name."

And he asked again.

"So, what's the composer's answer?"

······Me?

I asked myself inwardly and smiled wryly.

"My answer will always remain the same."

Music.

Even so, music.

Then, and now.

Even 200 years from now.

Again, music.

······Neil, who had been staring at me blankly, said casually.

"I've met Classic (Classical music)."