Rebirth of the fallen painter

Success is not achieved through hard work.At the age of 20, he gradually realized that his IQ was not enough to support him to complete his studies, and his low EQ was not enough to support him to have a smooth interpersonal relationship.

He is a total loser.

The only thing he can use to comfort himself is painting.

He paints crazily, killing his youth and dreams with colorful paintings.He also had expectations, hoping that he could become famous in one fell swoop and become a well-known painter.

He spent half a month's living expenses to buy a ticket for an art exhibition.He turned around inside, and then turned around again, until the museum was closed, and he walked out of the art exhibition silently.

Standing outside the art gallery gilded by the setting sun, he felt utter despair.

This is real art.

Monet's water lilies, Mona Lisa's smile, each one is a masterpiece.Each one bears a small sign stating its distinguished place in the history of painting.

Compared with these paintings, my own colorful paintings seem so out of place.

The catharsis of those emotions and inspirations, in front of these pictures, is just a meaningless mixture of colors.

He saw the painting grand prix posted on the wall, and used part of his salary to hand over a few paintings he liked.A month passed with no reply.Half a year later, he still hasn't received a reply.

He found a circle of painters online.He took his paintings with him.There, everyone displayed their paintings.All those paintings made Wu Bo feel far away.He nervously showed his paintings. After a moment of silence, one of them suddenly laughed, "Xiao Wu, did you bring your niece's graffiti?"

He was extremely embarrassed, but he still pointed at the painting and said, "Isn't this painting beautiful?"

Everyone seemed to have heard some joke and laughed.

One person said, "That's when I wondered if you were pretending to be a painter and came here to tease everyone."

Everyone laughed, not wanting to waste time on this painting, they went to comment on the "Girl with a Pearl Necklace" next to it, and then they were full of admiration.

Wu Bo went to the bookstore to buy painting books.Only then did he know that there are different types of painting, such as sketch, sketch, oil painting, watercolor, and gouache.And his own method of purely painting paint on paper is indeed no different from children's graffiti.

He began to draw according to the book.I first drew sketches for a month, and then slowly came into contact with watercolor oil painting and so on.The more he drew to the end, the darker clouds in his heart became thicker.

The paintings that he cherishes so much, these paintings that have been painted for more than ten years, may be nothing more than a pile of rubbish.

He threw all those paintings into the box and forced himself to draw according to the painting techniques written in the book.Pay attention to light and dark sides, highlights, character skeletons, color changes, etc.The technique seems to be improving, and his paintings seem to be leaning towards real paintings, but he no longer feels happy.When I get off work, my exhausted body doesn't want to have any activity.But if he doesn't paint, his whole life will be so painful.He didn't want such a humble and depressing life.Every day, he forces himself to continue painting.

Half a year later, he finally produced a painting he was satisfied with, and went to another circle of painters.

This time, everyone didn't laugh, but seriously mentioned their shortcomings.

"The structure is not right, and there are some problems with the composition."

"The three-dimensional effect is not strong enough, the color is a bit dirty, and the picture is not clean."

……

When he heard the last sentence, "The paintings are too rigid and have no aura", he actually found it funny. He didn't enjoy any moment of painting these paintings, nor did he pour any emotion into them.Just follow the rules in the book mechanically, one by one.If such a painting could have aura, he would be surprised.

He kept on drawing, and at first the lines seemed to be against him, and the colors were perpetually messed up.He couldn't find any fun in such a well-behaved painting.The mood of painting because of love seems to be getting farther and farther away from him.

When drawing a portrait sketch again, the messy straw-like lines on the man's hair caused his depressed grayness to burst out suddenly, and he slammed the pen heavily on the drawing board.He realized more and more clearly how long it would take him to draw the picture in the book.

He tore up all the paintings he had copied for a while, and stood among the shreds of paper, only feeling desperate.

Half a month later, he started to draw those pictures he liked before.Soon, he discovered the joy of painting again.As long as you immerse yourself in the unrestrained painting, you will feel better.It's just not as bright and hopeful as before, even if it is happiness, it is also gloomy.He knew this kind of painting, and no one but himself would understand it.

Of all the writers who saw the drawing, it was rated as 'like kindergarten doodles'.

He became more and more irritable.Occasionally, while painting, he would suddenly become angry and tear the drawing paper to pieces.His emotions became more and more uncontrollable, and finally one day at work, he angrily talked back to his boss, and was finally fired.

He didn't want to look for a job, but life soon became a problem.Without money, not only can't buy painting utensils, but even food and drink will be a problem.Living off my brother's financial support is fine, but it's shameless to spend it on art supplies.After all, his brother is just a small civil servant, not the second generation ancestor of a chaebol.

He changed jobs repeatedly, and each time he got into trouble because of his uncontrollable emotions.

Occasionally when he is in a good mood, he would think, maybe there is someone who likes these paintings just like himself?

He collected the names of many famous painters, and then sent the paintings one by one.It just never came to nothing.

He has rarely painted.Because he himself can't find a reason to draw a pile of garbage.It was only when his emotions broke down to the extreme that he would pick up the paintbrush and scribble on the drawing paper like venting.

Ten years passed like this.These paintings have still not been appreciated by anyone.He gradually understood that these paintings could only be his own entertainment forever.

These paintings that he cherished were really a pile of rubbish.

Another five years passed.Life hasn't changed a bit.He lay on the bed, looking at the piles of paintings in the room, feeling extremely tired.

Such a life without happiness is really tiring.

He didn't want to go on.

He is tired.

Just want to rest.

He bought a bottle of pesticide and drank it.

Then the ghost messenger said to him, "Your life is not over yet, I will give you a chance to live on."

He looked at the ghost messenger, "No, I don't need this opportunity."