“The Resurgence of Tulips” was the centerpiece of the day, a painting executed entirely in oil, showcasing brilliant and ever-changing colors, with minutely detailed and vibrant imagery. It was included in the auction, with a starting bid of 500,000 dollars and a requirement that each subsequent bid increase by no less than 20,000 dollars. York Brimstone confidently expected that this piece would fetch at least over 1 million dollars.
At this moment, a number of masters of the art world were gathered around York Brimstone. His work was displayed in a designated area, encircled with ropes, with two sturdy security guards stationed by the barrier.
William glanced at the painting on the wall and nonchalantly commented, “It’s not bad.”
“Not bad?” York Brimstone nearly burst into laughter.
The surrounding artists also displayed mocking smiles.
“Mr. Brimstone, you shouldn’t take a young person too seriously. For those who don’t understand art, they might just say it looks not bad,” someone chimed in.
“Exactly, do you expect him to pinpoint what’s not good about it?” another added.
“Young man, you shouldn’t think you know everything,” yet another voiced.
…
The group of masters were busy flattering York Brimstone while looking down on William, exhibiting classic sycophantic behavior.
Bella gently tugged at William’s sleeve and then said to York Brimstone, “Mr. Brimstone, William is just a freshman in college, and he’s not studying art; you shouldn’t make it difficult for him.”
William was indeed good-natured. His earlier remark was actually giving face to York Brimstone, and he didn’t want to be too ostentatious.
But now they were telling him “young man, you shouldn’t think you know everything”?
A smile crept onto William’s face as he said, “I’m sorry, I take back what I said earlier.”
“Oh?” The smile on York Brimstone’s face intensified, seemingly expecting to hear a series of compliments coming from William shortly.
Shaking his head, William spoke, “This painting, it’s really bad.”
The room first fell into a stunned silence, followed by a surge of uproar.
“You outsider, what do you know?”
“A freshman dares to claim that Mr. Brimstone’s painting is bad?”
“Don’t pretend to know when you don’t! If Mr. Brimstone’s work is considered bad, I really don’t know whose painting can be considered good in this world.”
The crowd around them burst into a frenzy of discussions, hurling nothing but ridicule at William.
William remained calm and collected, the smile still present on his face.
He chose when to keep a low profile, and when he decided to make a stand, who dared to object?
In the past, anyone who dared to speak to William in such a manner would have been erased with a simple wave of his hand.
But now, living in a peaceful era and a society that abides by the law, William couldn’t be bothered to argue with them.
York Brimstone raised a hand to calm the crowd, saying, “Let’s all calm down.”
Following his words, the people around gradually quieted down. However, they were all glaring at William with unfriendly eyes.
Alice was standing not far behind, witnessing the crowd surrounding and accusing her master, she was far from happy. Yet she did not step forward, believing William could handle the current situation.
Evelyn couldn’t help but say, “Alice, it seems like William is in trouble.”
“You don’t worry, it’s nothing,” Alice replied. Though she had never seen William paint, his magical inscriptions were already as beautiful as they could possibly be. Considering the mysterious aspects of her master, what could a group of old men do to him?
If earlier David had gone up to embarrass himself, then this group was collectively seeking humiliation.
The smile had disappeared from York Brimstone’s face, as he frowned at William and demanded, “Young man, do explain, what exactly is lacking in my painting? If you can’t provide a satisfactory explanation today, I will have no choice but to have you removed, without any regard for courtesy.”
William chuckled, not even looking at the painting as he said, “Actually, when I said it was ‘not bad’ earlier, I was trying to save your face. But since you insisted on asking, why are you doing this to yourself?”
“What do you mean by that?” York Brimstone asked, furrowing his brow.
Calmly, William elucidated, “When utilizing oil painting techniques to portray tulips, one should focus more on the handling of color and light to offer a deep visual impact. However, the color on the two petals on the left side of your piece is clearly too heavy, disrupting the overall harmony. Not to mention, during the creation process, I can discern that you paused three times while painting the petals. The direction of the corolla, the distribution of the petals, and the shape of the leaves are not harmoniously coordinated. Do you not think that this weakens the fluidity and the overall sense of the painting? Do you truly believe this is a good piece of art?”
York Brimstone was shocked, scrutinizing his painting again to find the facts just as William had described. What surprised him the most was how William managed to pinpoint that he had paused three times while painting the petals.
He stared intently at his artwork, involuntarily swallowing hard, unable to find the right words to counter.
Before this, no one had mentioned these issues; he had always believed his painting to be perfect. But now, under William’s guidance, as he reevaluated his work, what he had originally considered a masterpiece suddenly appeared unsightly.
The feeling was extremely painful, like seeing what one believed to be a perfect work suddenly appear tattered and torn under someone else’s guidance.
York Brimstone fell silent, and the people around him did not dare to speak casually. From his expression, it was clear that he had plunged into deep self-doubt. Even some established art masters began to notice the various problems in the painting from William’s pointers.
William had no intention of stopping there. He chuckled lightly again, saying, “You attempted to demonstrate your artistic temperament through this painting. Unfortunately, what you lack is not only painting skills but also a heart that truly loves art. Your work is merely a shell of an oil painting, lacking a real soul.”
These words seemed to break some kind of balance, becoming the last straw that broke York Brimstone.
York Brimstone’s eyes widened enormously as he stared blankly at “The Resurgence of Tulips” hanging on the wall, his breath becoming rapid. He began to mumble unclearly, no one could understand what he was saying, perhaps not even he knew. 𝚍ｎ𝚘ｖ𝚕．𝚘𝚛𝚐
Suddenly, he let out a piercing scream, frantically rushing into the display area and tearing the painting from the wall.
Security rushed to try to restrain him, but he roared, “Get away!”
Then he threw the painting that he had previously believed could sell for millions of dollars on the ground, and began stomping on it frantically.
Everyone around was stunned, their mouths agape.
People were wondering if York Brimstone had been driven insane by rage.
Bella was also stunned. Was this what William referred to when he said he “knows a bit about” art?
This was a bit too horrifying.
Only Alice smiled at Evelyn, saying, “See, I told you there was no need to worry.”
William’s gaze swept over the crowd surrounding him, asking, “Are you all contemporary painters?”
This sentence was full of disdain.
Indeed, human technology has developed quickly, but it seems that much of the cultural heritage has nearly been lost.
If such a painting that William couldn’t even bear to look at could be praised so highly, and if everyone surrounding it were painters, then it truly would be a tragedy of this era.
With this question, no one dared to respond for a while.
Until Lucas rushed forward and yelled, “What’s the use of just talking, if you have the ability, paint one yourself!”
