Chapter 97. Central Park Street Vendor

The problem is that there are places to invest, but I don't have the money.

What can I do to make a lot of money as quickly as possible without much capital?

I thought for a long time and muttered to myself.

"Hmm, even I sound like I'm talking nonsense."

If there were such a thing, everyone in the world would be rich.

Even if I can go back in time, the world isn't that easy to handle.

"Did I aim too high?"

If I had just planned to make about 10 trillion won and live comfortably, I wouldn't need to push myself this hard. But because my goal is so big, it's a bit too much.

"Well, it'll work out somehow."

I decided to take a walk to clear my head.

Throughout the park, there were licensed street vendors. Some sold food, while others sold jewelry and simple souvenirs.

As I was looking around the vendors, I saw a small argument breaking out at a distant vendor. I couldn't see the faces clearly due to the distance and position, but it was a well-built white man. In front of the vendor, an old man with a white beard was sitting.

The man laughed loudly, audible even from a distance.

"Hahaha! Is it really worth 60 dollars for a painting like this?"

The old man with the white beard replied.

"Why not?"

The man lectured.

"The first step in painting is the line. But this painting is by a mediocre artist who can't even draw a proper line. They're just imitating a professional, trying to look casual and pretentious, but in the end, it's just a scribble copying a famous artist's work."

"So what are you trying to say?"

"There are artists who look down on modern art, but this isn't art; it's just children's play. In any other city, maybe, but in New York, no one would be fooled into buying such a third-rate painting. It's not even worth 10 dollars."

The old man said gruffly.

"If you don't want to buy it, don't. No one's forcing you."

"You're free to sell your paintings, but remember that calling this an artwork is a desecration of true art."

"Got it, so stop your nonsense and be on your way."

The white man left without buying the painting, and the old man grumbled as he organized the paintings on the stand.

I found it interesting and approached the vendor while watching the man's retreating back.

The vendor had several paintings on display, and a large sign read, "Selling artworks at a discount. Don't miss this opportunity!"

"What's going on?"

The old man replied in an angry voice.

"I don't know. He came over and gave a lecture about true art and how the lines are poorly drawn. He said he works at a famous gallery or something. If he doesn't want to buy it, he should just say so. Tsk tsk!"

I tried to calm him down.

"You must be upset. Anyone would be angry if someone talked about their work like that."

The old man's expression softened as he shook his head.

"Well, not really. I didn't paint them."

"Are you not an artist?"

"Haha! I don't even know what these paintings are. I just get paid to sell them."

"I see."

The old man looked at me and asked.

"You don't seem like a New Yorker. Where are you from?"

"I'm from Korea."

"Oh! Korea! My cousin fought in the Korean War. He still talks proudly about it when we meet. What's your name?"

"My name is Han Miru."

"I'm Jackie Bailey. Just call me Jack."

"Sure."

I chatted with the old man for a while.

"So, who painted these?"

The old man chuckled.

"I don't know. You probably wouldn't recognize the name even if I told you."

"Probably not."

Since I'm in New York, should I buy one as a souvenir?

I looked at the displayed paintings. Even a quick glance made me understand why the man had said what he did.

The paintings included oil and watercolor paintings, as well as prints and graffiti, and there were sketches and drawings. At first glance, they seemed hastily done, and they were of various sizes.

Unlike classical art, where even a layperson can roughly tell if a painting is good or bad, modern art is hard to judge without a discerning eye.

I pointed to a painting of a girl reaching for a heart-shaped red balloon.

"How much is this one?"

The old man replied.

"60 dollars each, regardless of size."

"Hmm..."

It's not a cheap price. How many people would buy an unknown artist's painting from a street vendor at this price?

"How many have you sold today?"

"Three in four hours."

Three paintings for 180 dollars. Considering the cost, it seems like a good profit.

I was about to leave but hesitated.

The style of the paintings seemed familiar. I've seen similar ones before. Where did I see them...?

Then, a memory came to mind.

Central Park street vendor.

A sign advertising cheap artworks.

And this very painting!

Could it be...?

"How many paintings are left?"

The old man tilted his head at the sudden question.

"Let's see, about ten or so."

"I'll buy them all."

The old man was surprised.

"You want to buy them all?"

"Yes."

I took out my wallet to check how many dollars I had left and asked the old man.

"Do you accept credit cards?"

* * *

Banksy.

He called himself an art terrorist. His artistic activities could be considered eccentric.

He infiltrated places like the British Museum and the Louvre, displayed primitive figures pushing shopping carts, and fled. He also secretly painted graffiti on walls at night and ran away.

Strangely, the more he expressed his disdain for the existing art world, the more his reputation grew, and his paintings became more expensive.

He was hailed as the 21st century's greatest artist, a street artist, a creative destroyer, and a genius who opened new horizons in modern art.

Art critics and media praised his artistry.

People who used to report and erase his graffiti tried to preserve it after he became famous, and some even tore down entire walls to sell them.

A mobile home he painted sold for 500 times its original price, and his earlier works sold for over 500,000 dollars each at auctions.

Unhappy with this situation, Banksy submitted a painting to a Sotheby's auction and immediately destroyed it when the buyer was determined.

Despite this, the buyer was willing to purchase it. The destruction itself was seen as a form of performance art, driving the price even higher.

In the art world, reputation is money.

No one sees a painting for what it is.

Whether it's the public or experts, they pay based on the artist's fame, not the painting itself. They store the paintings in warehouses, hoping their value will rise.

Banksy wanted to criticize this illusion in the art world. So he planned a performance to sell his paintings at a street vendor in New York's Central Park.

No one would think a 60-dollar painting from a street vendor could be a genuine Banksy.

He hired an old man from a job site to sell the paintings for him.

New York is a global financial and cultural center, and New Yorkers are very proud of this.

'But how many of them can truly recognize the value of my paintings?'

It's a funny thought.

A painting that sells for over 500,000 dollars at Christie's or Sotheby's is ignored when sold for 60 dollars at a street vendor.

'In the end, the public's discernment is just an illusion. There are very few people in the world who can truly appreciate art.'

As the sun set, Banksy leisurely headed to the park.

'I wonder if he sold a few?'

The old man was still sitting there, but surprisingly, the stand was empty. None of the paintings he prepared were left.

The old man said to him.

"You're finally here. I've been waiting."

He asked, confused.

"Where are the paintings?"

"They're all sold."

Banksy was shocked.

"All of them?"

The old man replied.

"Three different people bought three each, and a young Asian man came and bought all the remaining ones."

He had prepared 15 paintings in total.

Some took only 10 minutes to paint, while others took a month of effort. But none lacked his artistic soul.

All but three were bought by one person?

At 60 dollars each, 12 paintings would cost 720 dollars. It's a huge amount for an unknown artist's work.

"Who was he?"

"He was a Korean tourist. He seemed to like your paintings."

Banksy couldn't shake off his shock.

'He recognized the value of my paintings from a street vendor? He could appreciate the art without the artist's fame or the trust of a gallery? There are such people in the world?'

The old man patted the stunned Banksy's shoulder.

"Haha! You seem surprised that all the paintings sold. Sometimes you get lucky. Don't give up on your dreams and keep working hard. Even if you're selling paintings for 60 dollars at a street vendor now, one day you might be a famous artist selling for hundreds of thousands of dollars at Sotheby's."

"..."

* * *

Back at my accommodation, I opened my laptop and searched for Banksy's paintings.

I'm not sure if it's related to my job at a game company, but Seonwoo was very interested in design and art.

So, he often dragged me to exhibitions, and thanks to him, I had a chance to see famous paintings.

I bought them all because of a story Seonwoo told me, but...

"Are these really Banksy's paintings?"

Banksy is a modern artist whose real name and face are unknown.

However, no one in the art world doesn't know his name, and his eccentric actions made him famous even among the general public.

One of his eccentric actions was selling his paintings for 60 dollars each at a street vendor in Central Park.

Banksy is a superstar in the art world.

Even 10 years from now.

But because of his anti-authoritarian stance and his criticism of the commercialization of the art world, he rarely submits his paintings to auctions.

Due to the limited supply and high demand, his paintings sell for astronomical prices whenever they appear at auctions.

A painting that appeared at Christie's recently sold for 1.5 million dollars.

"So, how much are these worth?"

I bought 12 paintings.

If each sells for 500,000 dollars, that's 6 million dollars. I made 6 million dollars with just 1,320 dollars!

"How many times the profit is that?"

Of course, this is only if they are genuine Banksy paintings. If they are just imitations, I might not even get my money back.

As I was reveling in my happiness, I realized something important.