Chapter 108 (2) - The Mysterious Art Museum
Ban, Ban! Open your eyes.
Leas voice.
I still can't open my eyes, feeling dizzy as if I have motion sickness. Does a baby not get motion sickness? Why does Lea seem so unaffected? I slowly open my eyes and take in the faintly visible surroundings.
Most of my dreams unfolded in the city, but for the first time, I saw endless farmland stretching before me. In the distance, a group of people seemed to be heading to the fields.
"Ban, Ban! Do you understand me now?"
Looking down, I saw Lea's face, clutching and shaking the hem of my clothes. I smiled gently and hugged the child.
"Yes, I understand now."
"Hehe, I like this. Talking with Ban."
I stroked Lea's hair and said,
"I like it too."
"Hehe."
"But Lea,"
"Yes?"
"Are you drawing in front of the house to show your brother?"
Lea pondered for a moment before replying,
"No."
"No?"
"Yes, I'm not just drawing for my brother to see. Mom, Dad, and the neighborhood kids also come to see my drawings. When the kids are happy seeing my drawings, I'm happy too."
"................"
My thoughts were right.
To me, it seemed like mere scribbling, but perhaps among the neighborhood kids, Lea was considered a pretty good artist. Drawing pictures that the children liked, their happiness fueled Lea's energy.
The most ideal life of an artist.
And it existed not in the life of an artist like me, but in a little Italian village girl's life.
I stroked Lea's hair again and said,
"You're kind."
"Hehe."
Lea, nestled in my arms, turned to look around.
"Where are we?"
"I don't know, let's find out."
"Let's ask those people over there! Oh, can they not see us?"
"Let's check."
"Okay! I'll do it!"
As I put Lea down, she ran off like a dog out for a walk. I worried she might fall, but falling in a dream wouldn't harm the real Lea.
Surrounded by farmland on both sides, Lea ran to the men carrying pitchfork-like farming tools on their shoulders and circled around them, laughing and teasing.
"Mister, can't you see me? Here! Here!"
They couldn't see her. Enough, Lea.
I followed quickly and clapped my hands.
"Lea, they can't see us. Come back here."
Lea ran back and took my hand, asking,
"Where do we go now?"
"................"
I didn't know either. But why did the museum send me to farmland? There must be a reason.
"Let's follow those men."
"Okay!"
The three farmers.
One of the men, walking silently, turned his head and said,
"Did the real city planner really die?"
I raised my eyebrows in thought.
'A city planner? Who in a French rural village would be known as a city planner? Le Corbusier? Who else? Ah, Gustave Eiffel. The man who built the Eiffel Tower in Paris that we know.'
Another man tapped the questioner's shoulder and said,
"They said it's not certain he's dead."
"No, his wife went to the city and heard the nobles talking about it."
"I heard something similar too."
"Really dead? What happens to Paris now? Damn! I was hoping to earn some money in his next construction project."
"There were many jobs in the entire Paris renovation project. But the nobles were fussing about spending too much tax money."
"What does that have to do with me? I just work and get paid. My kids are starving right now. I just hope the Paris renovation plan doesn't get canceled."
I listened to their conversation and confirmed the era.
'The Paris renovation plan. They're talking about Georges-Eugne Haussmann.'
If what that man said was true, then this is 1891.
The city planning named after the Second Empire's Paris renovation was conducted by Napoleon III and led by Haussmann. It involved rebuilding roads, avenues, building orientations, parks, road facilities, drainage, water supply, and amenities in Paris, from the city center to the suburbs.
What was Monet doing during this time?
As I pondered over who I should be looking for, one of the farmers spat out his contempt.
"Living the life! While the country struggles to keep up with development, we don't even have food for a day. Good life, just drawing pictures."
Another farmer elbowed him and said,
"Watch your mouth, the village chief said that man is a very famous painter from Paris."
"Famous, my foot! That man has been there for three years, you know? What kind of painter paints the same scene for three years? He must be a swindler."
"You fool, what's there in our village to swindle?"
"Anyway! His drawings are weird too. I sneaked a peek while working, and it was a bizarre painting. Painting the same scenery for three years. I couldn't do it, I'd go crazy. That gentleman must be insane."
The murmurs of the people. At the end of their suspicious glances, there was a middle-aged man.
He sat at the edge of the field, unfolding a chair and painting.
Monet.
Hearing my murmur, Leah, who looked up at me, asked,
Monet? The man we saw before? No, thats an old man.
Right, Leah.
Thats him, around 50 years old.
And if my memory serves me right.
Its the birth moment of the Haystacks series.
Monet spent 3 years painting 25 different versions of the same landscape, observing the changes in light.
One of those paintings was sold for 131.6 billion won at a Sotheby's auction in New York in May 2019.
"I have arrived at the moment of the birth of art that will adorn a page in history."
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