Van Gogh Reborn!

Chapter 275:


The Preliminary Battle (5)

Since the announcement, the interest in the France-Korea joint exhibition hall has grown day by day.

On the first day of receiving applications, September 19th, they said 1,400 people sent emails.

Bang Tae-ho also hired some staff as he expected, but he seemed to have a hard time for a while.

He was pitiful, even having to rush through his dinner, which should have been comfortable and happy.

“Then I’ll get up first.”

“I’m worried you might get sick.”

“I can’t do it roughly. I’m going to rest well after finishing this job.”


Grandfather nodded.

If you work by reducing your meal time and sleep time, you will lose your health.

He knows best because he feels it in his body, but the reason he willingly steps forward is one.

He knows how desperate the opportunity of the France-Korea joint exhibition hall is for the artists.

“Director Bang, you seem to be pushing yourself too hard.”

Kim Ji-woo also looked worried and sighed.

“Is there any way I can help?”

“It would be nice to do it together, but the selection process has to be fair.”

As grandfather said.

I would like to help him right away, but I can’t mix any other intentions in the selection process.

That’s the same for me, grandfather, and Jang Mi-rae.

He is wary of the unfair group becoming another power group.

“Can’t I help with the classification? Like painting with painting. Or get rid of the ones that don’t fit the style.”

Kim Ji-woo’s words also made sense, and grandfather nodded.

“That would be okay. Let’s eat and try it.”

We ate dinner quickly.

While grandfather and Kim Ji-woo were cleaning up, I looked for Bang Tae-ho.

He set up a temporary office and hired some staff, but he had to work at home every day because it was hard to handle within working hours.

“Have a drink.”

I put apple juice next to him.

“Ah. Thank you.”

“I’ll help you with the classification.”

“No. I’m fine.”

“It’ll be much faster if we do it together.”

He hesitated for a moment.

“I’ll just sort out the ones that don’t fit the style. I can do that much.”


Bang Tae-ho smiled.

He looked more pitiful when he smiled like that with a tired face.

“Leave this to me. You have your own work.”

I would be fine to help him for a day or two, but he refused.

But I understood his feelings.

The Venice Biennale France-Korea Pavilion must succeed for more opportunities like this to come in the future.

The way of hiring artists for national pavilion exhibitions will also be more fair, and that’s what I, grandfather, and Bang Tae-ho really want.

Bang Tae-ho has to work hard on planning from selecting artists.

I have to do my best for the works that will be exhibited in it.

He smiled lightly and looked at the monitor as I nodded.

“Director, I’ll help you a little.”

Kim Ji-woo came in.

He said something similar to me, and he cautiously reached out to Kim Ji-woo.

“Uh… Then can you look at this and divide it? Make folders and separate the ones that fit the style and the ones that don’t.”

“Leave it to me!”

Kim Ji-woo clapped his hands and took his seat.

Kim Ji-woo and I both wanted to help, but we didn’t need to know more about this job.

We shouldn’t know.

As grandfather said, it has to be fair, so we have to do simple work.

Kim Ji-woo connected to Bang Tae-ho’s server and downloaded the folder of the unfair applicants.

He didn’t like the name unfair, but it seemed easier than the long name like France-Korea joint exhibition hall.


Kim Ji-woo checked the number of files and was surprised.

I was surprised too.

I was surprised that 1,400 people applied on the first day, but the applications are over 4,000.

“Did you try to do this alone?”

“Haha. It’s because I’m doing it with the staff. It would have been easier to distinguish if I had received online support from the beginning, but I couldn’t help it because of the circumstances.”

Kim Ji-woo shakes his head.

“My goodness. It’s not that you can’t help it, it’s really ridiculous. How did you plan to do this?”

Kim Ji-woo scans the folders on the server and slaps his cheek.

Then he created folders for painting, installation, and sculpture under the form preparation folder.

“I’ll put the ones that don’t fit the format separately. I’ll sort the ones without missing content like this. Is this okay?”

“Wow. Thank you. I should pay you for this.”

“Buy me a meal tomorrow.”

“Sure thing.”

Kim Ji-woo opens the application.

He was curious who was participating and glanced at it, and the names and brief introductions caught his eye.

‘Kim Jinwoo.’

He was someone who stopped by our house briefly two years ago.

He was also a student taught by Jang Mi-rae, but he seemed to have been discharged from the military.

I don’t know if he is Kim Jinwoo, a graduate of Korea University of Arts, because his alma mater is not written, but the timing is likely.

‘Baek Seolgi?’

It’s a delicious-looking name.

Both of them left the room quietly as if they were focused.

“You said you’d help?”

“I have something else to do.”

Grandpa patted his head.

“Right. We have to work hard too.”

It was obvious.

While Bang Taeho was waging a war, Michel Platini was also suffering.

There were 580,000 artists registered in the French artist welfare system Antermittent.

Among them, there were some who could not apply for various reasons such as working on other projects, contract issues with their agencies, illness, etc., but there was no one who did not want to participate in the Venice Biennale.

The artists who gave up the national pavilion, which only a few could participate in, rushed to submit their applications, thinking that they would at least break even.

Unlike Bang Taeho, who received applications online, he did not need to sort them one by one, but it was no easy task to check all the portfolios of tens of thousands with just ten people.

Michel Platini, who had been buried in a pile of documents for days, sighed deeply.

The fever rose and his head throbbed.

‘What time is it.’

Before 4:20 p.m.

He had an appointment at 4 o’clock, so he wanted to close his eyes for a while until then.

“Make it dark.”

The office control system, which recognized Michel’s voice, turned off the lights and drew the curtains.

Michel closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair for a while, and the intercom rang.

-Sir, Bang Taeho Chocolatier has visited you.

“Please guide him to the reception room. I’ll be there soon.”

-Yes. I’ll guide him.

Michel closed his eyes for a moment and got up and shook his head.

He tidied up his clothes roughly at the sink inside the office, and took the draft he had prepared in advance and walked out into the hallway.

He opened the door to the reception room.



Michel and Bang Taeho greeted each other and smiled bitterly.

They looked terrible.

They knew how much trouble they were responsible for, and they could only laugh at the dark shadows around their eyes and drooping shoulders.

“How is it?”

“It’s not easy. It’s hard to judge by portfolio alone.”

Michel nodded.

It was impossible to judge an artist by a few works.

But since there was no alternative, they had to compromise.

“But we have to do it.”

Michel handed over the documents to Bang Taeho and displayed a perspective drawing of the joint exhibition hall in 3D graphics on the screen in the reception room.

“I made a draft based on what we talked about last time.”

Bang Taeho looked at the building.

The exhibition hall, which was divided into two floors, was dome-shaped.

The ceiling of the first floor was open, so you could see the second floor when you looked up.

Conversely, you could also look down at the first floor from the second floor.

The railing on the second floor was installed in a circle, slightly away from the wall.

They had made an effort to reduce any factors that could obstruct the view, and the center of the dome was made of glass so that the sky was visible.

The concept of the Fireworks Exhibition Hall was landscape.

The works of artists from both countries were independent pieces when viewed up close, but they formed a single landscape when viewed from afar.

That’s why they needed to build a new exhibition hall.

“It’s nice. You mean we can see the sun here if we time it right?”

Bang Tae-ho pointed to the middle part of the glass ceiling.

“That’s right.”

“But can we find a suitable land that meets the conditions?”

They couldn’t tell what was there even if they found the time and place where the sun was exactly in the middle of the exhibition hall.

Depending on the situation, the cost could be quite high.

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

Michelle smiled faintly.

Money could solve anything for Henri Marso.


Bang Tae-ho looked around the exhibition hall again.

If everything went as planned, the visitors would be able to enjoy the landscape from anywhere in the exhibition hall.

If they looked at the pieces placed close by, they could appreciate one piece of art, and if they turned their eyes to the opposite side, they could view the second and first floors like the sky and the sea.

The Fireworks Exhibition Hall, which took as its motif, which was enjoyed inside the artwork, was itself a piece of art.

“Good. Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything more to touch. You’re really the best, President Platini.”

“It’s nothing. The important thing is how well you fill this place.”

Michelle’s remark resonated with Bang Tae-ho.

No matter how good the plan was, the artists were the ones who completed the exhibition.

They were going to select twenty people, ten from each country, and tell them the concept of the exhibition hall.

But it was uncertain how well they would digest the Fireworks Exhibition Hall.

“By the way, this is Hun’s request.”


“He wants to have some snacks at the entrance of the exhibition hall. Chocolate or candy.”

It could have been taken as a consideration for the audience, but Michelle Platini took it differently.

It was a chocolatier’s idea of enjoying art happily, and at the same time, it reminded him of Fernando Gonzalez.

“You mean 79kg?”

“That’s right.”

“I think it’s fine. Rather, it would be good to promote Chocolatier.”

“It would be fun to have snacks that sell well in France and Korea together.”

Being able to experience snacks from other countries could also be seen as part of the exchange.

“Good. And.”

Michelle signaled to ask how the work that Bang Tae-ho was in charge of was going.

“Yes. I thought about something like this.”

Bang Tae-ho showed him the document.

“It’s a hidden picture game.”

“A hidden picture game?”

“Since there are so many national pavilions, it might be hard to keep the visitors.”

Michelle Platini nodded.

“We’re going to put different elements inside the exhibition hall every day. It could be a piece of art or a display location.”

Michelle listened attentively to Bang Tae-ho’s suggestion.

“We’re going to give a small gift to the person who finds it, and Hun asked me what about the artists’ signatures.”


“At the Whitney Biennale, Hun drew sunflowers and got a good response. Something like that.”

Michelle chuckled.

He remembered the fool who burned himself with a senseless victory urge.

“If we have a separate signing event, it would be a burden for the artists, so if we do it this way, it would be a prize. And they’ll come back to look for it again.”

“That’s cool. How about changing one thing for each artist? You can get the signature of the artist who changed the element.”

It was a suggestion to add a collection element.

For fans of specific artists, it would be a special motivation to visit the exhibition.

Tip: You can use left, right, A and D keyboard keys to browse between chapters.