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Chapter 58: Grandpa Teacher
TL: Enuma ID
Saturday morning.
On any other day, it would have been a day for going to his teacher's studio.
But today was different.
"Jun. Today you're going somewhere else with your teacher, Mr. Kim Yo-han."
Ŵе ḃnо̊ v е̃ l En̆u m̃ ă
"Somewhere else?"
"Mm. He says you're going to his teacher's house."
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His teacher's teacher.
Lee Jun tilted his head.
Even his teacher had a teacher.
"Where?"
Ŵe bṅ ov́е̌ l Е nü m̀ а
"Yangpyeong, he says. You have to go by car."
"Is it far?"
"A little."
Lee Jun gathered his things.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
He put his sketchbook in his bag. His pencils and colored pencils too.
Kim Yo-han's car came earlier than usual.
Ĕ n̈ u mа̊. і̃ d̊
So-young sat Lee Jun in the back seat. She buckled his seatbelt for him.
"Professor, thank you for taking him today."
"Yes. I'll have him back before evening."
The car pulled away.
The car worked its way out of central Seoul. The buildings thinned. The trees multiplied.
It climbed onto the highway. Outside the window, everything sped up.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
"Teacher."
"Mm."
"What is teacher's teacher like?"
Kim Yo-han thought for a moment.
"He's a scary person."
"Scary?"
Ê n̂u m̀ä
"Yeah. Scary, but... he's a good man. Especially to children like you, Jun."
Lee Jun tilted his head.
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A scary but kind person. He can't quite picture what sort of person that is.
"Does he paint?"
"He used to. He hardly paints at all anymore."
"Why?"
Е̊ n ū m̌à
"Because he retired."
"If you retire, you can't paint?"
Kim Yo-han glanced at Lee Jun in the rearview mirror.
"It's not that he can't. Instead of painting his own work, he taught children."
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"Like you?"
Kim Yo-han took a moment to choose his words.
Ẁ еb̆n̂_о̇ v̈ е̌ l̇ Е̊ nůmа
"He's... far greater than I could ever compare to. He taught art to so many children. I was one of them."
"I see."
Lee Jun looked out the window. Green fields were slipping past.
The teacher who taught his teacher.
The person who taught someone who painted as well as his teacher.
How well must a person like that paint?
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Lee Jun found himself curious.
[He's nervous. That teacher of yours.]
the Shadow said quietly.
Lee Jun felt it too.
From the back seat, he could see that his teacher's shoulders were stiffer than usual.
His grip on the wheel was tight with tension.
Е ñ ům̆ а̄
It was the first time he'd ever seen his teacher this tense.
The car turned onto a narrow road.
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Trees lined both sides. The shade reached all the way into the car.
At the bottom of the slope, a river came into view. A wide river.
"A river!"
Lee Jun pressed himself to the window and peered out.
Ӗ núṁа
"It's the Namhangang."
The water was sparkling. Sunlight shattered across its surface.
Kind of green, kind of gray. Where the light touched it went white; where the shadows fell it was a deep navy.
It wasn't a single color. Many colors were mixed together.
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[Isn't river water kind of like glazing?]
the Shadow said.
Ē ń u m̄ a.
[The bottom's color rises up from below, the sky's color comes down from above. And the light mixes in between.]
Lee Jun nodded.
The river was a painting. Glazing painted by nature.
Someday he wanted to put it into a painting of his own too.
A long while later, the car stopped.
The end of a narrow lane. An old wooden gate stood there.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
A low wall topped with roof tiles. Beyond the wall, a persimmon tree. Its leaves grew thick.
Kim Yo-han cut the engine and sat there for a moment.
He didn't take his hands off the wheel.
Lee Jun looked at him, puzzled.
"Teacher?"
"...Right. Let's get out."
W̃е̃ b n̊ о̆ ṽ е l E n̊u m̈ å
Kim Yo-han got out first. He opened Lee Jun's door for him.
Lee Jun climbed out with his bag on his back.
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They stood before the gate.
There was no doorbell.
Kim Yo-han knocked on the gate.
Knock, knock, knock.
Ё_nùḿа̃ .і ḋ
For a long while, there was no response.
Lee Jun looked around.
A persimmon branch poked out over the wall. Among the leaves, small fruit had just begun to form.
At the foot of the wall, nameless wildflowers were in bloom.
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There was a scent here that Seoul didn't have.
The smell of earth. The smell of grass. The smell of water.
Ѐn úm а.іd̈
All of it was fascinating.
"...Who is it?"
A voice came from inside. Low and rough.
"It's Kim Yo-han, Teacher."
A short silence.
"Yo-han? You've come again?"
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
"Yes."
The gate opened.
An old man stood there.
White hair. A thin frame. Leaning on a cane.
Reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose.
Lee Jun looked up at him.
Еǹ ü m ǎ.ĩ_d̄
He wasn't tall. Maybe a little taller than his aunt.
But his eyes were shining.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Clear eyes. An old man whose eyes alone had not grown old.
The old man's gaze dropped from Kim Yo-han and came down.
It met Lee Jun's.
"Mmh?"
Е̇ n û ḿа .íd.
Behind the reading glasses, his eyes widened.
"So you're Lee Jun."
"Yes. Who are you, Grandpa?"
Kim Yo-han flinched.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Seo Jeong-hwan blinked.
And then he laughed. A deep, rolling laugh.
Е̄ ñù m̄ а́.і́ d
"Grandpa. Grandpa, he says. Ha!"
Seo Jeong-hwan laughed, leaning on his cane, hard enough to shake his whole body.
Kim Yo-han said hurriedly.
"Teacher, this child..."
"I know. I know."
Seo Jeong-hwan waved a hand, still unable to stop laughing.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
"It's just how children are. To him I'm some grandpa he's meeting for the first time, so of course that's how he'd react."
Seo Jeong-hwan looked down at Lee Jun.
Lee Jun looked back up at him.
"This old grandpa is Seo Jeong-hwan. Your teacher's teacher."
"My teacher's teacher?"
"That's right."
Ë ǹ u mа . іd
His teacher's teacher.
Lee Jun didn't know what he was supposed to call that.
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A grandpa, but a teacher, and his teacher's teacher.
"Then... Grandpa Teacher?"
Seo Jeong-hwan laughed again.
"I like it. Grandpa Teacher. That has a nice ring to it."
Е n ü mа̇ .іd̂
Kim Yo-han's face went red.
His own pupil, calling his revered master 'grandpa'.
"Teacher, I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what? I am a grandpa. Of course I am."
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Seo Jeong-hwan crouched down in front of Lee Jun, setting his cane on the ground.
"Let me have a look at you, then."
Е̃ñŭ ḿà .іd
A wrinkled hand took hold of both Lee Jun's cheeks. Gently.
The cheeks were plump.
"So these are the hands that painted that picture?"
He looked at Lee Jun's hands. Small hands.
A faint smell of paint clung to them. He must have been painting again just that morning.
"You really are small, aren't you."
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Seo Jeong-hwan's wrinkled hand took the child's.
It was astonishingly small and delicate.
"With hands this small..."
Seo Jeong-hwan murmured.
His wrinkled face filled with contentment.
"Yo-han."
E ńum̆ а̌ .і̊ď
"Yes."
"You wouldn't mind if I held him once, would you?"
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"Of course not."
Kim Yo-han nodded.
Seo Jeong-hwan lifted Lee Jun up.
Lee Jun threw his arms around Seo Jeong-hwan's neck the way a child hugs his father.
Е̄n ù m̈а́.і̌d
"Oof, aren't you a heavy one."
He rose to his feet in one motion.
But then.
"...Urgh?!"
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Something wrenched.
"T-Teacher?!"
Ё ň um̄ã.і d́
Kim Yo-han took Lee Jun from him at once.
Seo Jeong-hwan staggered and sank down.
Cold sweat ran down his face.
"I-I'm fine. It's just been a while since I lifted anything... ugh?!"
He was not fine.
"Teacher, an ambulance!"
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
"No, no. An ambulance, of all things. There's no need to make a fuss."
Seo Jeong-hwan waved his hands and struggled awkwardly to his feet.
Kim Yo-han quickly set Lee Jun down and steadied the old man.
"Grandpa, are you okay?"
Lee Jun was worried too. It seemed the old man had hurt himself because of him.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. My back's just a bit... At my age I've no business picking up a child."
E ńùm̌ a
"Teacher, let's go inside and sit down."
Kim Yo-han supported him and they went inside.
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"Oh dear. This old grandpa's gone and lost every bit of his dignity."
Seo Jeong-hwan gave a wry smile.
Lee Jun picked up Seo Jeong-hwan's cane and followed behind.
They crossed the yard and went in.
Ě ňü m а̃
There was a wide wooden-floored hall. The ceiling was high.
It looked like an old country house. He'd never seen a house like it.
Paintings hung on the wall. Two of them.
One was a painting of a mountain. It looked old. The paint had faded.
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The other was a painting of a bridge. A bridge in the rain. This one looked a bit newer.
Lee Jun stopped in front of the two paintings.
W е̃ b̌no̊ v̂ е̊l Е́ń um̊å
The bridge painting especially caught his eye.
The paint was thick. The way the rain was rendered was unusual.
Rather than painting the streaks of rain directly, the paint had been scratched away to let the color beneath show through.
Sgraffito. Kim Yo-han's specialty.
"It's pretty."
Lee Jun murmured.
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Kim Yo-han had laid his master down on the floor, and as he turned back he noticed Lee Jun studying the painting.
It was his own painting. Done in Paris in his twenties.
"Your teacher painted that."
Seo Jeong-hwan said from where he lay.
Lee Jun looked at Kim Yo-han.
"You did, Teacher?"
Ӗ.n ǔ.m а .і́ d̆
Kim Yo-han nodded, a complicated look on his face.
Lee Jun looked at the painting again.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Rain his teacher had painted. A bridge his teacher had painted.
"Your painting is pretty, Teacher."
Lee Jun said.
Kim Yo-han didn't know what he was supposed to say.
Ẇеb n̊_o_v̈е ľ Е̊n̆ u mа̀
Seo Jeong-hwan laughed heartily up at the ceiling.
"You must be honored. Praised by a gifted pupil."
Kim Yo-han hesitated, then spoke.
"It's just something a child says."
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"That's what makes it better. Praise with no pretense at all, isn't it."
Seo Jeong-hwan rummaged through a drawer. He took out a pain patch and pressed it to his lower back.
Еnŭ mа̊ .i d̊
Kim Yo-han fetched water from the kitchen.
"Are you really sure you don't need a hospital?"
"A hospital, for this? I'll be right as rain once I lie down a while."
Lying there, Seo Jeong-hwan watched Lee Jun.
Lee Jun was sitting at the edge of the hall.
At some point he'd taken his sketchbook out of his bag and set it on his knees.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
"Drawing already?"
"It's pretty here."
He pointed at the view from the hall.
In the yard stood a persimmon tree, tall, its leaves glinting.
Beyond the yard was a hill. Trees rose tall along its crest.
And past them, the sky.
W̊ е́ bn̊ о̆ ve l̆ Ѐ ń ûm å
The sky was vast. Clouds were drifting slowly across it.
"Go on. Draw it."
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Seo Jeong-hwan said.
"I came here because I loved that view too."
Lee Jun picked up his pencil.
From where he lay, Seo Jeong-hwan watched the small back of the boy seated at the front of the hall.
Wе_b́n̈õv el É n u̇m а
Small in height. Small hands. And the astonishing pictures born out of them.
The boy was like a jewel.
Enough that his stubborn pupil going out of his way to come felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Kim Yo-han sat down beside Seo Jeong-hwan.
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The master lying down, the pupil seated.
It made for an awkward picture.
Ӗ n.um̌ а̀
"Yo-han."
"Yes."
"That child. He truly enjoys painting, doesn't he."
"Yes. More than anything, he loves to paint."
"It shows."
Seo Jeong-hwan said, looking up at the ceiling.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
"That painting of the sky. No wonder people can't believe a five-year-old made it."
"Yes."
At the edge of the hall, Lee Jun's pencil was moving.
He drew the persimmon tree in the yard first.
"No one told him to, and the moment he sits down he's drawing. He doesn't draw for any reason. He draws because he wants to. That's something you're born with."
Kim Yo-han nodded.
Ẃ ѐ b̂_n о̄vе̊ĺ Е̌ ṅu m̆ а̀
A brief silence fell.
"Teacher."
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
"Mm."
"Did you hear about Kang Ji-won sunbae?"
Seo Jeong-hwan's eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"I heard. They removed him from the board, I'm told."
Ẅĕb̃ ǹ о́ṽ е̃ ĺ Е̃ n û m a
"Yes. He was stripped of the vice-presidency, and his association activities were suspended as well."
Seo Jeong-hwan let out a sigh.
"As it should be. There's no help for it."
"..."
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"Standing a six-year-old up in front of them and demanding he prove himself, whatever the aim, that's something you must never do. If Ji-won did that, he should be punished."
There was no anger in his voice. Only a trace of weariness.
W ѐbn ôv̊_е l̃ Е ṅům а̀
"But you know."
Seo Jeong-hwan closed his eyes.
"Ji-won is my pupil too."
Kim Yo-han said nothing.
"I don't know where it went wrong. When he was young he was a good boy. He painted quite well, too. He was diligent."
"..."
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"But at some point his eyes turned from painting to position. He fell for the art world, not art itself. When was that, I wonder."
Seo Jeong-hwan fumbled for his water glass. Kim Yo-han reached out and steadied it for him.
"Sometimes I wonder if it's all my fault. The one doing the teaching failed to teach him properly."
"It's not your fault, Teacher."
"No. A teacher should catch his pupil when he strays down the wrong path. I couldn't, and this is the result."
Kim Yo-han couldn't answer.
En̄ümа .i d́
"Yo-han. Maybe I've failed after all."
"You haven't."
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
"Every child I taught is in the art world. And not one of them tried to stop him. I can only conclude I taught them all wrong."
A breeze blew. The persimmon leaves in the yard trembled, and one fell.
"Yo-han."
"Yes, Teacher."
Е n̈ u̇ ṁа̄
"Don't you fail."
Seo Jeong-hwan's eyes turned toward the small child's back.
"Show me that child growing up straight and true. Only then will my teaching have been worth something, won't it?"
"Teacher..."
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
"I taught you, and you teach that child. That's how the line carries on."
Seo Jeong-hwan said, looking up at the ceiling.
Еn̆ǔ mа̃
"I still don't know whether I taught you properly. But watching you teach that child, maybe I wasn't so far off after all."
Kim Yo-han bowed his head.
Even now, Lee Jun was hard at work drawing something.
His colored pencils were moving busily.
"So, what will you have that child do next? Send him off to another competition?"
Kim Yo-han hesitated a moment, then spoke.
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"I'm thinking of not entering domestic competitions anymore."
"Oh?"
"Yes. I don't think he needs any more domestic awards."
Lee Jun's talent was already known to an almost excessive degree. There was no point entering domestic competitions.
In the preschool division especially, it had reached the point where the other children just looked pitiable.
"I see... You've thought that through well. Overseas, then? Isn't that too early?"
E ň um̂ а
"...Actually, a while ago we received an invitation from Japan. From ICAF (International Children's Art Festival)."
"From Japan?"
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ICAF.
Japan's International Children's Art Festival.
An international children's art event hosted by Sakura Cray-Pas, Japan's largest art-supply company, and sponsored by Japan's Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology.
Held in Osaka every year since 1970, it's Asia's largest children's art festival, with more than forty countries taking part.
Е ǹ u mа̌ . id
It runs exhibitions, workshops, and exchange programs all together, and in Japan it's even called 'the Olympics of children's art.' It was one of the most prestigious children's art competitions in the world.
"Yes. If we can get a piece ready, I'm thinking of entering. Winning a title abroad would do more for Jun than building up recognition at home, I think."
"Is that judgment born from your own experience too?"
"...There's some of that to it, yes."
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Kim Yo-han, too, had a glittering record of domestic awards in his youth. He'd won just about every prize there was.
But once he went abroad, that record meant nothing.
W e b̌ ñ о̊ v̈е̂ l Ėn ũm̊ а
A history of winning Korean competitions bought him no credibility over there.
An artist out of Asia, poor in international titles.
That was the treatment Kim Yo-han had received.
"Japan, hm. That's a good direction."
Seo Jeong-hwan smiled contentedly.
"But don't push him too hard. Just let him paint as much as he wants to. So he can keep painting for the joy of it. That's the greatest gift there is for a painter."
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"Yes, Teacher. I'll keep it in mind."
Both men's eyes turned together to Lee Jun's small back.
Bracing himself on Kim Yo-han's shoulder, Seo Jeong-hwan slowly raised himself up.
His back still throbbed, but he could manage a few steps.
The two of them went to the edge of the hall.
Lee Jun was drawing, the sketchbook on his knees.
Eñ ǔm̌ а̂
Pencils and colored pencils lay scattered beside him.
"What did you draw?"
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Seo Jeong-hwan sat down next to him, Kim Yo-han steadying him.
Lee Jun showed him the sketchbook.
It was the sky over Yangpyeong. A drawing done in pencil and colored pencil.
Blue that deepened toward the top and paled toward the bottom. Clouds scattered thin as thread.
Е n̂ um̌ ã
A persimmon branch reached up from below, piercing into the sky.
Beyond a stone wall lay a hill, and on the hill stood a single tree.
Seo Jeong-hwan pushed his reading glasses up and peered closely at the sketchbook.
He looked at it for a long while, a contented smile at the corners of his mouth.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
"This."
"Yes?"
Ẅ е bn̄ оv̊е̄_l̊ .Е̃nū_m̂ а̂
"Would you give it to this old grandpa?"
Lee Jun tilted his head.
"This one?"
"Yes. This picture."
Lee Jun looked down at the sketchbook for a moment.
The sky he'd drawn.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
He can't tell if it's any good. Being colored pencil, it probably still falls a little short.
Even so, he didn't mind letting it go.
"Okay. I'll give it to you."
Carefully, Lee Jun tore the page from the sketchbook and held it out to Seo Jeong-hwan.
Seo Jeong-hwan took the picture in both hands.
"Thank you."
W.eb n̂о̌.v е̇_l Е n̊ u ṁа
"You're welcome, Grandpa Teacher."
And so Kim Yo-han and Lee Jun said their goodbyes to Seo Jeong-hwan and left the house.
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In the car on the way back.
Lee Jun fell into a deep sleep.
The sketchbook held to his chest.
A sketchbook now short one page.
W̃еb̀n о́ṽ е ĺ Ӗn u mа
*
Yangpyeong. Seo Jeong-hwan's house.
Three paintings hung on the old wall.
Seo Jeong-hwan's 'Mountain'. An oil painting from forty years ago. A painting that had even appeared in art textbooks.
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Kim Yo-han's 'Bridge'. An oil painting made in Paris. An old bridge in the rain.
Lee Jun's 'Sky'. A colored-pencil drawing made that day. A persimmon tree, clouds, and a wide sky.
Ẅ е̊ b̌nô v ё ľ Е n u ḿ а̂
Master and pupil, and that pupil's pupil.
Down the generations, the paintings carried on.
Leaning on his cane, Seo Jeong-hwan gazed up at the three paintings.
And once more, he thought.
That the life he had spent teaching children had not been in vain.
To the next generation. And the one after that.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
The paintings carried on even now.
As the sun sank, the light coming through the window swept across the three paintings, lighting each of them in turn.
*****
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