I am a Big Player
Chapter 350 - 348, A sketch that can make people vomit (First Update)_1

Chapter 350: 348, A sketch that can make people vomit (First Update)_1

The morning sunlight in New York turned the glass on the skyscrapers into huge mirrors, giving off the feel of a blockbuster commercial. Ren He cycled with his drawing board on his back on his way to Columbia University.

In the Juilliard School of Music, he was the up-and-coming young professor. But once he left the Juilliard School of Music, he was just an ordinary fine arts undergraduate student from Columbia University’s class of ’06.

Life seemed to have returned to its peaceful state, and Ren He’s heart had also gradually calmed down.

Cycling through the congested city traffic, he experienced a sense of freedom and exhilaration that driving a motor vehicle simply couldn’t provide.

This bicycle was a custom-made road bike crafted for him by TK, working overtime after he contacted An Si. It was slightly less efficient at shock absorption, but provided a very smooth acceleration.

In fact, different types of bicycles are meant for different environments. Up to now, Ren He had changed bikes twice, but fortunately, the subsequent bikes were all provided to him free of charge by TK.

To this day, Ren He was TK’s most valued external relationship. Indeed, after Knight’s two ascents and ski descents from Mount Everest, TK’s sales for the quarter had risen by 27%, an astounding figure given their already substantial base.

Even many customers would directly ask for the same model of bike used by Knight!

It wasn’t because they were chasing celebrity endorsements but because they thought if a bike could withstand Knight’s antics without incident, it must be exceptionally sturdy...

After Ren He rode into Columbia University, he went straight to the art office at the far end. He knocked and then entered, just as Arthur had mentioned to him yesterday. Richard generally ignored people, so it was best to just knock and walk in.

Ren He chuckled as he saw how tidy the office was. Richard, hearing his laughter, walked out with a frown, "What are you laughing at? To reach a higher level of spiritual enlightenment, you must learn to ignore external distractions, understand? Focus on the essence of your heart."

"Right, right, you’re absolutely right. You’re on a higher plane," Ren He laughed and said, "When do I usually come here for lessons?"

"Come here every day and draw earnestly. Draw whatever you want, and show it to me when you’re done," Richard answered and then retreated back into his room, apparently preoccupied with his own work. In fact, his interest in Ren He had grown even more. Richard was very curious about Ren He’s actual level of skill or, to be precise, what he excelled at the most.

So it was actually better for him to let Ren He play around freely to see what he could create on his own.

In the afternoon, when Richard stepped out of his room, he saw a sketch nailed to the easel outside. Another sketch? Shouldn’t he be experimenting with watercolors or oil painting? Why did he have such a passion for sketching?

Richard took down the sketch, which, as always, was a realistic portrayal of the office. But Ren He had applied his own treatment to the lines.

On the paper, the clear sunshine streamed in from the window, the interior was bright and clean, and everything was neatly organized, creating a particularly comforting feeling.

After viewing the sketch, the previous unpleasant sensations suddenly vanished. Both drawings revealed mastery in the subtleties, something ordinary realistic sketches couldn’t achieve. Impossible.

Richard smiled: "Clever kid."

He realized that Ren He had deliberately drawn this today; the two sketches gave a vastly different impression. The first one induced discomfort while the second brought comfort. After seeing the second one, if one looked back at the first, the feeling of discomfort intensified...

Richard was also amazed; he had lived a disheveled life, painted his whole life, and yet he was cured by a younger man’s two sketches...

Hey, Richard suddenly noticed something: the two drawings had the exact same perspective!

He placed the two sketches side by side on the table to observe them closely, and indeed they were identical. The naked eye couldn’t detect any difference in the angle and geometric structure of the two drawings. Perhaps this was another of Ren He’s talents? An incredibly consistent and almost unnaturally stable compositional ability embedded in his memory!

This was actually quite interesting. Richard had already put away yesterday’s painting, and with no stable reference point for Ren He, in theory, he shouldn’t have been able to do this. But he managed it anyway, and even Richard couldn’t find any fault with it. That was truly magical.

At that moment, a young man in his twenties with golden blonde hair walked in: "Teacher."

Seeing him, Richard smiled and said, "George, I’ve heard from others at the school; your art exhibition was very successful."

"Ha-ha, of course," George laughed. Americans are usually unabashed, it’s a habit; if something is well done, there’s no need to be modest about it. He then saw Richard holding two drawings and chuckled, "Teacher, you still find the time to sketch? Can I have a look?"

Richard was momentarily taken aback. The man thought these were his drawings and wanted to see them. Unsure why, he handed over the second drawing to George first.

After taking the drawing, George exclaimed, "I hadn’t anticipated your sketching to remain so exceptional, but it’s rare to see you draw something so realistic anymore. How about the other one?"

Richard handed over the first drawing Ren He had done - the one so chaotic it was nauseating. Unlike Richard, George first saw the comforting drawing, and then he was handed the disgustingly messy sketch...

"Urgh!"

George vomited... He really did throw up...

When Richard had looked at that painting yesterday, he had only felt nauseous, but the strong contrast did not have the same effect on him when he looked at it again.

But George was different. The second drawing had given him a very comfortable feeling, and then, looking at the first in contrast, that disparity... As he stared at the first painting, he found the lines exceedingly bizarre, growing increasingly restless as he looked on, culminating in... vomiting.

Richard, too, was stunned; he had not expected George to throw up...

Visual arts? Indeed, many images in this world can nauseate a person to the point of vomiting, but few can depict that effect through sketching. Vision is a fascinating thing. Some images, although still, seem to move when you stare at them.

Who’s to say there aren’t deeper aspects to explore, such as things that could lift people’s spirits just by looking at them?

Now, Richard was astonished to find that Ren He’s two drawings had such immense power...

They could actually make someone throw up! What a bizarre sense of humor!

Wiping his mouth, George said with astonishment, "Teacher, have you started researching this sort of thing? When I walked in, I felt something was different, and indeed, your office is much cleaner!"

"It wasn’t me who drew them," Richard said with a touch of melancholy: "A new student, only 16 years old. The messy one was drawn yesterday; it compelled me to clean up my slovenliness, the clean one was drawn today; it cured my sense of disgust..."

"You’re joking, right?" George said in surprise: "Not to mention the composition and higher-level elements in the painting, but just the lines alone... they’re not something a child could handle!"

"Mm, he’s a prodigy," Richard picked up the two drawings, "Didn’t you notice? Without any reference, he made the composition of both drawings almost identical, imperceptible to the naked eye."

It was then George realized the issue, something he had not noticed without a close look: "Indeed!"

He then looked up suddenly, "A 16-year-old boy drew these?"

"Yes, right in front of me," said Richard, "but I’m still not clear on what else he excels in besides sketching."

"May I take photos of these two drawings?" George asked, "When I was 16, my sketching was nowhere near his level. No, wrong, even now, just the feelings hidden within these two sketches... I don’t compare to him."

...

Let’s have some food; we’ll continue in the evening.