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Chapter 40: Leonardo da Vinci (2)
TL: Enuma ID
As it happened, that day was a Saturday. There was a lesson in the afternoon.
Professor Kim Yo-han's studio.
As always, Jun held out his sketchbook.
Kim Yo-han flipped through it page by page, checking each one.
Еn ů m̊а̄
"Seonsaengnim."
"Mm."
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"How do you do sfumato?"
Kim Yo-han lifted his eyes from the sketchbook.
"Where'd you hear about that?"
"Ji-su noona told me. She said it means fading away like smoke."
Е́n̂ú m̆ а̇
"Right. Well, I know where you heard it, then. So why are you asking?"
Jun turned to a page further back in the sketchbook.
A pencil drawing of the Mona Lisa appeared.
The outline had been laid in, and there were traces where the space between nose and cheek had been rubbed with a fingertip to dissolve the boundary.
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The edges of the lips too. The jawline too.
Soft transitions formed as the pencil dust spread out.
Ė ň u ḿà . іď
It wasn't perfect. But the intent came through clearly.
Kim Yo-han lifted the sketchbook and looked at it up close.
"...You drew this?"
"Yes."
"This isn't the assignment."
"I copied it from a book."
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"A book?"
"The one you sent me for my birthday, seonsaengnim. Leonardo da Vinci."
Kim Yo-han didn't put the sketchbook down. He looked even closer.
He could tell the boy had studied the da Vinci in the book and reproduced it in his own way.
"With a pencil it works. When I rub it, the boundary disappears."
"Yeah... I imagine it would."
È ńũṁ а
"But it doesn't work with oils. I paint it thin and let it dry, paint it again and let it dry. I did it three times and nothing melts. It just gets hazy."
Kim Yo-han settled back deep into his chair.
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This tiny apprentice was already trying to mimic da Vinci. The nerve of him.
"Well, of course it doesn't melt."
"Why?"
"A pencil physically mixes the powder. Rub it with your finger and the graphite particles spread across the paper and blend right there. So it happens in one go."
Е̄ n u m ā. i d̄
Jun tilted his head.
"Oil paint is different. Sfumato isn't about rubbing the paint. You have to build up layers. And three layers, the way you did it, isn't anywhere close to enough."
"Then how many layers?"
"Dozens. Each one so thin it's almost invisible. Layer on layer, until light passes between them and the boundaries look like they melt."
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"Light?"
Light passes between the layers and the boundaries look melted?
Ӗn u m̊ а
He didn't quite follow, but it felt a little different from glazing.
"Oil paint is semi-transparent. Spread it thin and light passes through. That light reflects off the layer beneath, comes back up, and looks like it blends with the color of the layer above. It's your eye doing the mixing, not the paint."
Jun listened with his mouth half open.
He was listening, but he wasn't really taking it in.
"Pencil blending is materials mixing. Oil sfumato is light mixing. The principle is completely different."
"So, if I build up more layers, it'll work?"
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"In theory, yes."
Kim Yo-han crossed his arms.
"Do you know how many years da Vinci spent on the Mona Lisa alone?"
"No."
"At least four. Some scholars say sixteen."
He couldn't picture exactly how long that was. But he could tell it was an awfully long time.
Е n̊ úm.а̇
"A day to lay down one layer and let it dry. Dozens of layers, dozens of days. And it doesn't happen in one shot. Paint, check, and if it's not right, paint again. He repeated that hundreds of times."
Jun listened quietly.
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Kim Yo-han lowered his voice.
"Jun. This isn't something for you to be doing now."
Jun's face fell.
"You're still building your foundations. You've only just started using glazing, and your impasto still needs work. Sfumato comes after that. A long way after."
Еn u̇mа. i̊ d̆
"...But I want to."
"I know. That you want to."
Kim Yo-han looked again at the pencil Mona Lisa in the sketchbook.
It wasn't just a copy of the Mona Lisa; it was a drawing that tried to imitate da Vinci's technique.
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"I'm not telling you never to draw it. I'm saying draw it later, once you've picked up the foundations sfumato needs."
"Then when can I do it? What foundations does sfumato need?"
Е̌n̈.u ṁа̊
Kim Yo-han let out a small laugh.
The same child who had shown endless patience during the glazing work was now itching to paint sfumato this very second.
"Jun. Those three layers you built up. What was underneath them?"
"Underneath?"
"You just sketched on the canvas and started painting right away, didn't you?"
"...Yes."
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"And the groundwork?"
Jun said nothing.
He had the look of someone hearing the word groundwork for the first time.
"Want me to tell you why the sfumato didn't work?"
Jun nodded.
"What you just did was stack color onto bare ground. No chiaroscuro, no deciding where the form is light and where it's dark, you went straight to color."
Е_n.ù_m̄ а̇. і̌ d
"......"
"In that state, no matter how thin you build it up, you can't melt the boundaries. Because there's no chiaroscuro underneath to hold it up. You're trying to do everything at once, all from the top."
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Kim Yo-han picked up a pencil.
He pulled out a sheet of paper and drew a circle in an instant.
Dark on the left, light on the right.
He shaded it in a single color, catching only the chiaroscuro. It looked like a sphere.
Ёṅ_u m ӓ.іd̆
"This is underpainting."
"Underpainting?"
"Before you put down color, you paint in one color and set only the chiaroscuro first. On the canvas you don't just sketch, you lay in paint in a single color. You decide in advance, right there on the canvas, where everything is light and where it's dark."
Jun watched Kim Yo-han's hand intently.
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"Once this is done, you put color on top of it. Endlessly thin. The chiaroscuro underneath is holding everything up, so up top all you have to worry about is color and boundaries."
"And then sfumato works?"
Е́n̈ u m.а̃
"Not right away. But without this, it never will."
Kim Yo-han set the paper down in front of Jun.
"When you painted 'Sky', you could dive straight into glazing with no groundwork. The sky has no form. You just build up color."
"Yes."
"A face is different. There's a nose, there are cheeks, there's a mouth. Where there's form, there has to be chiaroscuro. Without chiaroscuro, you can't melt any boundaries. You were trying to melt boundaries when there was nothing there to melt."
Jun gazed quietly at the single-color sphere Kim Yo-han had drawn.
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"Seonsaengnim. Do I have to learn this first?"
"Yes."
"If I learn this, can I do sfumato?"
"A long time later."
"A long time later, how long?"
Kim Yo-han laughed. Just how badly did the kid want this?
Е̊nů m̊ӓ
"Depends how fast you get there. Could be a year, could be ten."
Jun's eyes changed.
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They were the same eyes as when he'd first discovered glazing, the eyes of someone about to take on a challenge.
"I want to start right now."
"Always in a rush."
Kim Yo-han looked once more at the pencil Mona Lisa in the sketchbook.
Е̌ ń u m̌.а . і d̂
That feeling of seeing a master's work and wanting to copy it.
People call that inspiration.
In this child, inspiration was always overflowing.
Guiding that inspiration in the right direction was his job as the boy's teacher.
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Kim Yo-han fetched a white plaster cylinder from the shelf.
"This is your homework this week. Draw it with the chiaroscuro in. As many times as you can. That's where underpainting starts."
Ẃ.ë ḃ_n ӧv̇ е l̄ Ѐ nũm̃а
Jun nodded.
"If I do this, can I paint like da Vinci?"
"If it were that easy, everyone would've run off to do it!"
*
Back home, Jun took the plaster cylinder out of his bag.
It was white and smooth.
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About the size of two palms.
It had some heft to it. Jun had to hold it in both hands.
He stood it up on the table.
"Auntie, can I borrow this?"
"The lamp? What for?"
"The light has to come from one side only."
Е ň ŭm̂ а̌
So-young brought over her work lamp and set it up for him.
Jun placed the lamp to the left of the cylinder.
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When the light shone from the left, the surface of the cylinder changed.
The left was bright. The middle, midtone. The right was dark.
And at the edge of the dark side there was a faint band of brightness. It's reflected light.
On the table below, a shadow stretched out long.
Еn̈ u m̀а
Jun opened his sketchbook and picked up a pencil.
He drew a long, stretched oval. The cylinder's outline.
Then he began to shade, faint on the left, growing darker toward the right.
[This might look simple, but it won't be so easy.]
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The Shadow peered over beside him.
[The midtone, where light shifts into dark, that's the hard part.
It can't go dark too fast, and it can't go dark too slowly either.]
Еń ùm ӑ
Jun drew without a word.
He laid the pencil flat and shaded in broad sweeps. Modulating the pressure.
First attempt. The midtone was too abrupt. It jumped from light straight to dark.
He tore it out.
Second attempt. This time too faint. The dark side didn't come through.
He tore it out.
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Third.
[Don't forget the reflected light. Right beside the darkest spot there's a little bit of bright.]
Jun looked at the cylinder again.
It was true. Right beside the darkest face, light bounced off the table and glowed faintly.
He tore up the third one too.
He started a fourth.
E n umӓ. id
So-young came into the kitchen and peeked into the room.
A plaster cylinder. A lamp. A sketchbook. Three torn sheets of paper.
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And Jun, pencil in hand, glaring at the cylinder.
"Jun, what's that?"
"A cylinder."
"Why are you drawing it?"
Е̂ń ü m а̀
"Homework."
"Homework? Your teacher gave it to you?"
"Yeah."
So-young looked again at the scene on the table.
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Jun had won the Grand Prix at the National Children's Art Competition.
First place overall, across the preschool, lower-grade, and upper-grade divisions.
Е̃ n̆ǔḿа̇
And yet now he's drawing a plaster cylinder.
So-young had drawn plenty of cylinders herself back in her student days. It was the most basic of the basics.
And there was Jun, who'd taken the overall grand prize in the children's competition, drawing one.
There are three torn sheets of paper, no less. He tore them up because they weren't good enough for him.
A laugh nearly slipped out of her. At the same time, a lump rose in her throat.
'Professor Kim Yo-han really is something.'
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The kind of teacher who tells a kid that's won the overall grand prize to go draw cylinders.
A child who bounds up several steps at a time.
Kim Yo-han filled in the missing pieces in a child like that, thoroughly, leaving no gaps.
For all his rapid growth, he might have grown up shaky in places.
Kim Yo-han shut that fragility off at the source. He was a teacher Jun couldn't do without.
So-young quietly closed the door and stepped out.
E̊ n̊ ū ṁ а
[Underpainting, huh. Lay down the chiaroscuro underneath, handle the boundaries up top. I never had to work like that. Line took care of everything for me.]
The Shadow spoke as if making excuses. That was because, until now, it had never told Jun about such things.
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Jun didn't answer, and kept drawing.
[But if you want to do sfumato, that's the right way. My method just wouldn't cut it. Teacher Kim's way is the correct one. I'll admit it. This is what they call the textbook approach.]
The Shadow muttered, grumbling for no particular reason.
Jun stopped his pencil and looked at the Shadow.
W̄ēb̀ nо̊ v е l̈_ Е̃ n̄umа̌
Two big, bright eyes.
[Wh-what? Why are you looking at me like that?]
"Do you want to learn it too, Shadow?"
Jun held up the sketchbook.
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A cylinder with the chiaroscuro worked in. The basics of underpainting.
[...I'll pass.]
Êňūm а̄ ..і̊ d̂
The Shadow turned its head away.
[Because I've got my own way of doing things.]
There was no energy in its voice.
Jun tilted his head.
"Shadow, do you not like da Vinci?"
[What?!]
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The Shadow, which had been so subdued, leaped up.
[Leonardo is the greatest artist in our country! Not like him? What a ridiculous thing to say!]
"Then why didn't you paint like da Vinci?"
It was a genuine question.
The greatest man. The man who painted the greatest painting. The man who painted the most expensive painting.
Leonardo da Vinci.
Е n̈ u m ӓ
'So why didn't you paint the way he did?'
It wasn't picking a fight, and it wasn't an insult.
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It was simply a question, asked out of pure curiosity.
The Shadow shrank down as if folding in on itself, and spoke.
[...If I painted like Leonardo, I'd just become 'a painter who copied Leonardo'. Not a painter who was truly 'me'.]
Jun blinked.
W е̂b̃ n оvё l̂ Е̄ n̊û m̊а̃
[Leonardo da Vinci is great. The greatest in the world.
But if I painted like Leonardo, in the end I'd just be living as Leonardo's shadow.
I didn't want that. I didn't want to be anyone's shadow.]
A voice steeped in deep regret.
It raised a finger as if to draw something in the empty air.
[I wanted to paint a painting that was mine alone. A line no one had ever drawn. A line only I could draw......]
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The Shadow's voice was quiet.
Not a trace of its usual swagger, none of its grumbling.
Е̇ n ú m̆_а̂
[I don't know if it was the right road... but at least I tried to find it.]
The Shadow let its raised arm drop.
Jun watched the Shadow for a long while, then said,
"Do I have to find it too?"
[...Find what?]
"The line only I can draw."
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The Shadow laughed without a sound.
[You're already looking for it.]
The Shadow's white eyes curved into round half-moons.
[The path you're on right now is one no one has ever walked.
I'll vouch for it. The line you draw at the very end will be a line no one can copy.
A line only Jun can draw, a painting only Jun can paint!]
Jun gazed at the Shadow for a moment, then nodded.
He picked up the pencil again.
Ӗ n̈ u ḿ а
The fourth cylinder.
Faint from the left. Slowly. Slowly, growing darker.
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The sun was going down.
Now only the lamplight lit the cylinder.
Sfumato was still far off. But he knew the direction now.
His teacher had taught him, and the Shadow had vouched for it. That was enough.
Ӗn̈ um̃ а
If the road he was on now wasn't the wrong one.
Then someday, he would arrive.
At Leonardo da Vinci's line.
*****
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