Chapter 685: Mediocrity_2

“You are the disciple of a great master of Chinese Painting in Asia, and Troy is a distinguished student of the North American pop art movement’s Name Family. You both became famous for painting flowers. You excel in integrating the national flowers into a ‘Hundred Flowers Painting,’ while she uses hundreds of color spots to create a constantly changing pop flower ‘Rose,’ which won a grand prize at the Chicago Biennial. By the way, do you still remember Louis Troy?”

“Troy… of course, we’ve never met, but there were years when people would mention that name to me so often that it’s hard not to remember.”

Tang Ning touched her hair: “Unfortunately, I heard that she—”

“Yes, her artistic path was not smooth. The ‘Hundred Flowers Painting’ was merely the beginning of your artistic career, while the Chicago Biennial award was the artistic pinnacle throughout Troy’s life.”

“That might sound a bit harsh on Troy, but objectively speaking, looking back, your careers as these pair of heroines were actually not two mirrored replications envisioned by the media. You only had a brief intersection at the age of twenty, then passed by each other, gradually moving further apart.”

The reporter looked up, staring into Tang Ning’s eyes, and said word by word, “According to Chicago police reports, Louis Troy was sentenced to 121 years in prison in the early part of last year for charges of illegal possession of weapons and illicit drugs, as well as first-degree murder related to a shooting case, without the possibility of parole.”

“Yes, I saw it in the news at that time, it was truly terrifying.”

Whether genuinely heartbroken or performing for the camera, Tang Ning covered her mouth, gently sniffing: “I lament her downfall.”

“Crime, drug addiction, money laundering, and even shootings… I hate to say it, but in our art circles, this isn’t a rare case, right? Even Damien Hirst has been to jail.” The reporter said sharply.

“Both known for painting flowers, these two individuals who were once so similar. Twenty years later, your Chinese Painting flowers are hard to come by. I heard that even Superman Li, who has always been cautious in art investment, has been repeatedly photographed during interviews with your Chinese Painting flowers hanging in his study.”

“And Troy, on the other hand, used a shooting incident to create a blood-stained flower of death for her career. Miss Tang Ning, what do you think caused such a difference? And what would you like to say to young art practitioners subscribing to our magazine as a senior artist?” he asked.

“First of all, as a public figure, I feel pained and confused about Louis Troy’s case. However, I must clarify one thing: from the very start, there was no similarity between our works. Our differences were significant from the beginning.”

Tang Ning crossed her hands and placed them on her raised knee.

“How so?”

“My ‘Hundred Flowers Painting’ is filled with emotions, each flower contains precious charm and soul. Her ‘Rose,’ sorry but using thousands of color dots to form the rose’s petals might seem dazzling, but the petals themselves are hollow, lacking sufficient emotional support. A flower with a soul and one without, anyone truly understanding art will know where the difference lies.”

“Anyone with perseverance and patience can train in designing intricate and complex images.”

“However, capturing the essence of that one-thousandth of a second when a flower blooms, and imbuing it with unique character, well, friends in Europe prefer to call it the language of flowers, requires one-in-a-million spirit. That’s the difference between me and Louis Troy, and also the difference with many ordinary mediocrities.”

Tang Ning proudly raised her chin: “I am not here to gloat over Louis Troy’s imprisonment; even if her work sells as expensively as mine today, I would still point out the differences. Mediocrity—many will find this word harsh. But my character is frank and keeps it real.”

“Sometimes, my senior brother would tell the kids in the studio, work hard, and if you truly apply yourself, you’ll get rewarded, and someday he might become a very successful artist. I would never say such things. Since the birth of the art concept, no more than three hundred painters have been able to sell a single work for over 1 million USD. The fact is not that just working hard will make you an outstanding painter.”

“The truth is, the vast majority of people are destined to be mediocrities. They can’t just work hard and become me. No, no, no, do not entertain such misguided thoughts. They are destined never to become me.”

“Giving a false smile to children is a very hypocritical thing, and instead gives them some unrealistic ambitions.”

“When they realize their position, they will collapse. Maybe it’s shooting others, or perhaps it’s putting a gun to their own head,” Tang Ning said meaningfully. “You know this truth, don’t you? It’s just that very few people say it so openly.”

The reporter shrugged noncommittally.

Such cold remarks are reminiscent of a tyrant.

If a teacher in a school were to say such socially Darwinian things, they would face a flood of complaints from parents by tomorrow. But being cynical is an artist’s privilege.

That’s their style, or you could say their persona.

No one can say Tang Ning was wrong.

“Of course, comparing me to Louis Troy wasn’t her fault, or even the public media’s fault. Often, distinguishing between a ‘seemingly excellent painter’ and a ‘truly excellent’ painter was never an easy task.”

“Especially so for young painters, the public often mistakes a momentary spark of creativity for their true nature. I think that pop Name Family took Troy into his studio as his student, only seeing her intricate brushwork, overlooking her hollow pale soul. In fact, even a great artist like my teacher can make such mistakes.”

Tang Ning playfully smiled.

However, she didn’t expand on this topic, but instead continued with the reporter’s question.

“You were just asking me, what advice I have for young people. The best advice I can give them is—be practical. Whether it’s designing your own artwork or planning your career, don’t aim too high, and don’t imagine having too much that isn’t destined for them. This way, they won’t be defeated by reality.”

“I remember you are from Singapore, right? This fall, Singapore will have an art biennial?”

“Yes, at the National Art Center, our great art event, at the end of August, ‘Oil Painting’ should also be covering it, will you be going to Singapore?” the reporter nodded.

“We’ll see. I mentioned this because recently, I heard about a kid wanting to combine oil painting and Chinese Painting styles to create a Fusion Painting to participate in an exhibition.”

“Wow, I think it’s bold, but also very creative.”

The reporter imagined it, his eyes lighting up.

As a local from the Lion City, he immediately felt the brilliance of this idea, combining Eastern and Western styles is inherently beautiful.

Moreover, the organizer just happens to be Singapore, a city-state under mixed influence from both the East and the West.

He could imagine that a lot of effort went into this thought, indeed an interesting idea.

Such a wonderful idea.

Unexpectedly, Tang Ning just mentioned it publicly.

“Perhaps for some mature painters, it is. I brought this up not to praise him like some elders do, but rather I find it quite amusing. Trying to run before one can walk, he hasn’t even understood oil painting and Chinese Painting, yet wants to combine the two. This is a very opportunistic decision, and the outcome is destined not to be good.”

“To the vast majority of young painters, painting genuinely well is more useful than opportunism or currying favor with some judging committee. Practicality is very important for all young painters.”

Tang Ning turned her head to look at the camera.

“Feeling fragile and want to cry? My words are unpleasant, but I won’t apologize to those who feel offended because I’m merely stating the truth.”

“Hey, not convinced? My ‘Hundred Flowers Painting’ is right there; anyone is welcome to try painting it. Reality will tell you the difference between mediocrity and genius.”

“Remember, I was only 20 when I completed this painting, just a young painter like you.”

Tang Ning crossed her legs and gave a playful smile to the camera.

“Little one, you know I’m talking about you.”