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Chapter 8: Reality
TL: Enuma ID
Two weeks had passed since he came to his aunt's.
Lee Jun's days were simple.
When he woke in the morning, he sat down in front of the canvas. And he painted.
When his aunt set out lunch, he ate. And then he painted again.
Ẅ é b̄ǹ о̇ v̆ еl Е ṅ ů m а
When his aunt set out dinner, he ate. And then he painted again.
At night, when his aunt told him to sleep, he slept.
Baca cerita ini hanya di situs resmi Enuma.id!
When he woke in the morning, he sat down in front of the canvas again.
The canvases with paintings on them were piling up.
The Starry Night. Water Lilies. Alley (the alley in front of the Sashimi Restaurant in Busan, painted from memory). Aquarium (also from memory).
Four canvases leaned against the wall.
Еn u̇m а́ ._і̃d̊
All of them were clumsy.
The paint hadn't been controlled, there were spots where the color had gone muddy, the brushstrokes weren't even.
They didn't measure up in Lee Jun's eyes.
Even the Shadow, who had always done nothing but praise him, was strict when it came to oil painting.
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But one by one, they were getting better.
In the fourth one, the Aquarium painting, the way the color shifted with the depth of the water had been rendered in that thickness particular to oil painting.
W̌e b̆ n о̊ v̆_е́l Ĕ n ũmа
Every time So-young looked at those canvases, her feelings were complicated.
The oil paint was disappearing fast.
The Ultramarine Blue was already more than half gone. This child used blue an unusual amount.
The Linseed oil was nearly empty too.
All four canvases had been used up. They had to buy more.
The supplies she'd first bought at the art supply store had been almost entirely used up in two weeks.
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"Oil painting really runs up the bills......"
So-young looked at her bank account.
The webtoon manuscript fee had come in, but after rent and living expenses, there wasn't much room to spare.
Just then her phone rang.
It was her older sister.
"So-young."
Ёn̈um а̇.. і d̄
"Hey, sis."
"Jun doing alright?"
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"Yeah. He's doing fine. Paints every day. He's already done four. When he finishes one I'll take a picture and send it to you."
A short silence.
"Your brother-in-law wired some money. Three million won."
So-young froze.
E ñû m̄ ä
"Says he'll send it every month from now on."
"Sis, I'm fine. I told you I'd cover the costs."
"You might be fine, but your brother-in-law isn't."
Jun's mother's voice was firm.
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"What kind of parents hand their own kid off to someone else and don't even send money?"
So-young couldn't answer.
Е̊ǹ u mа.id_
"Spend it where it needs spending. Buy Jun what he needs."
"Sis......"
"And don't tell Jun. The boy'll just go and worry about it."
The call ended.
So-young stared at her phone for a long while.
Three million won.
Baca cerita ini hanya di situs resmi Enuma.id!
Theirs wasn't the kind of household that could fling that kind of money around so easily.
Take that much out of what the Sashimi Restaurant brought in, and her brother-in-law and sister's life would get tight.
When she'd gone down for the holidays, the lettering on the sign had been faded. The fish-tank motor had been making a strange sound too.
That money ought to go toward fixing up the shop.
So-young closed her eyes.
This wasn't what she'd taken him in for.
E n ú ḿȧ. і̂d̆
She hadn't taken him in to load the burden onto his parents.
But it was reality.
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Oil paint was expensive. Canvases were expensive too.
The Linseed oil, the Turpentine.
At the rate Lee Jun painted, art supplies alone could run to several million won a month.
The manuscript fee of an unpopular webtoon artist wasn't enough.
W е́ b́n̂ оvе l Ẽnúm̆ а
So-young confirmed that the three million won had landed in her account.
After staring at the screen for a long while, she put on her coat and went out.
She headed for the art supply store.
A little while later.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Lee Jun looked at what his aunt had gone out and bought.
Oil paint. This time it wasn't the basic twelve colors.
Wѐbn ӧ vе̌l̈ En̂ u m а
A large tube of Ultramarine Blue. A large Cadmium Yellow. A large Titanium White.
She'd bought the three colors he used most in big tubes.
Three size 6 canvases. One size larger than before.
A medium Linseed oil. A medium Turpentine.
Two more brushes.
"That's a lot."
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
"Because you've got a lot to paint."
So-young smiled. It was a smile that came out a little more forced than usual.
Lee Jun didn't notice.
[Whoa! Big tubes! Now you don't have to ration the blue anymore!]
The Shadow danced.
Lee Jun picked up the large tube of Ultramarine Blue.
Ẃе bn̆o v el̇ .Ẽ n̄ u m̆ а
It was heavy. At least three times the amount of the one he'd been using.
The canvases were big too. Size 6. Forty-one by thirty-two centimeters.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Wider than a size 4. That much more space to paint on.
Lee Jun stood up a new canvas right away and squeezed out the paint.
What should I paint this time?
The negative space of the Korean painting he'd seen at the art museum came to mind.
Е̊ nû.m̄_а̀.і̃ d̀_
Could negative space be done in oil paint.
Lee Jun thought.
And he took up the brush.
[Oil painting done like Korean painting? Now there's an interesting idea.]
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
The Shadow laughed.
[Oil paint is meant to be laid down. You fill the canvas without leaving a gap.
Én̊uṁ а̄ . іd̃
And you want to make a place you don't paint?]
Lee Jun nodded.
[Korean painting is done with ink, right. On rice paper.
The rice paper is white, the ink is black. The unpainted parts stay as the white paper itself.
That white becomes the negative space.
But an oil canvas has gesso on it.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
If you leave it unpainted, the white of the gesso stays as is...... can that become negative space?]
The Shadow was mulling it over seriously.
Then its tone suddenly changed.
[This is going to be a new challenge for me too, isn't it?]
There was anticipation mixed into the voice. Not excitement, something more like curiosity.
[I've never used such a thing as negative space.
E̊ñ ũ m̄а̃. i d
I always filled the canvas completely. Painting in the background too, leaving no empty spot.
That not painting could have meaning...... I'd never thought about it.]
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Lee Jun took up a pencil and began laying out the composition in his sketchbook.
A mountain.
He recalled the ink landscape painting he'd seen at the art museum.
A mountain rendered in the ink's tonal gradation. And the negative space beyond it.
Ẇеḃ nо ṽ ѐ l̄ Ёn um а
Paint the mountain in oil, but leave what lies beyond the mountain unpainted.
The white gesso of the canvas stays as it is.
Could that become mist. Could it become sky.
[Let me see the sketch.]
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
The Shadow peered in.
[Hm. So you put the mountain on the left and leave the right empty.
Е̌numȧ
But there's a problem. Oil paint isn't like ink.
Ink mixes with water so you can adjust the gradation. Dark, or light.
Oil paint can't do that. The paint itself is opaque.
How are you going to handle the boundary between the mountain and the negative space?]
Lee Jun thought.
Ink soaks into the paper and blurs naturally.
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Oil paint doesn't soak in. The boundary between painted and unpainted becomes sharp.
He had to make the boundary turn natural.
"What if I make the paint thin?"
[Mix in a lot of oil and it does get runny and turn transparent.
But it'll be different from the way ink bleeds.
It won't flow like watercolor either.]
Е̇ ǹ û m̈ а .і̂d
"I'm still going to try."
[Alright. Let's try it. It's my first time either way. We're experimenting together.]
Baca cerita ini hanya di situs resmi Enuma.id!
The Shadow laughed.
It wasn't the usual excitement.
It was the joy of coming to know something unknown.
Lee Jun squeezed paint onto the palette.
Е̂n̂u mа_. іd̂
Burnt Sienna. Olive Green. Ivory Black. Ultramarine Blue. Titanium White.
He had to make the color of the mountain.
The mountain in Korean painting was rendered with ink alone. From dark ink to light ink.
The mountain in oil painting had to have color.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Lee Jun mixed a little Olive Green into the Burnt Sienna.
It became a dark greenish brown. The color of the mountain's shadow.
Е̌ n ŭ mӑ. і̆d́
Into that, just a touch of Ultramarine Blue.
It turned cold. Closer to the color of a distant mountain.
[Oh. That color's good. It's got a faint feel of the ink's gradation.]
Lee Jun loaded the brush with paint.
And then he mixed in a lot of oil. Thin. Almost like water.
He set the brush to the left of the canvas and drew the mountain's outline.
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The thin paint spread out half-transparent over the canvas.
[Oooh. It goes translucent. The white of the gesso shows through underneath.
This is like the feel of ink soaking into rice paper!]
The Shadow was thrilled.
Lee Jun painted the bottom of the mountain thick and went thinner toward the top.
Near the mountain's peak, he lifted the brush.
W е b n_ov̈ е.l̈ Е̊nú ṁа
The place where the paint ends.
Beyond that, white gesso.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
There was a boundary. But the paint was so thin that it didn't break off completely.
The translucent color thinned out little by little until it felt like it vanished into white.
[......Got it! This is it! This is negative space!]
The Shadow cried out.
Е̂n̊ u m̄а̌
[It's different from the way ink bleeds, but negative space in oil painting's own way has come into being!
The paint thinning out and disappearing! This isn't Korean painting and it isn't Western painting either!
What is this?!]
Lee Jun peered into the canvas too.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
On the left was a mountain. A dark, weighty mountain.
The mountain's outline thinned out more and more as it rose.
Ē n ũ mа̄ . i̇d
And the right half was empty, white.
It was empty and it wasn't empty.
It was like mist. It was like sky.
It was the same thing as the negative space of the Korean painting he'd seen at the museum, and it was a different thing.
Negative space made out of the materiality of oil paint.
[This is something new.]
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The Shadow said seriously.
[Korean painting does this with ink, and Western painting fills the whole canvas.
Even when it didn't fill everything, it wasn't that it made meaning out of the empty places.
But you made negative space with oil paint.
This...... I've never seen this either.]
The Shadow stepped back and looked at the canvas.
W̆ ѐb̀n̊ o vё l Е̇ n̊u mа̇
Two white eyes were glittering.
[Let's do more. What if we put water below this mountain.
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But we handle the water as negative space too.
Not painting the water with paint, but leaving it unpainted so it becomes water.]
Lee Jun nodded.
He didn't paint below the mountain. The white gesso stayed as it was.
Ẇе̃ b ṅоv́ӗ l̄ Е̊n u m а
The negative space above was mist and sky.
The negative space below was water.
The same white, but the meaning was different.
The upper part was light, the lower part was still.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
[......How is it that it's the same negative space but the feeling is different?]
The Shadow tilted its head.
Wеb̈ ñ о̌v е̊ l Ë n̂ům̄a
[Maybe it's because the mountain is making a boundary.
The white above the mountain is sky, the white below the mountain is water.
It's the same color, but since the context is different it looks different.]
The Shadow cackled.
[This is really fun!]
It was a laugh of pure delight, the first in a long time.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Not obsession, not desperation.
Just the joy of discovering something new.
[All my life I painted only people. The background I'd slap some color on and call it done.
Something like negative space, I never even thought about.
But this...... so not painting is painting too.]
Lee Jun took out a Conté and drew a single bird up above the mountain.
Е n.ú mа
One small dot. A black dot floating above the white negative space.
[......Incredible. That one bird completed the negative space.]
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The Shadow said quietly.
[Without the bird it's just an empty spot. With the bird, it became sky.
That whole wide white is all sky.
One dot made meaning out of the space.]
Е̃ n̆um̃ а̀
Lee Jun looked down at the canvas.
It was clumsy.
The form of the mountain was awkward, the paint hadn't spread evenly, the boundary between the negative space and the paint wasn't smooth.
But there was something there.
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A painting that was neither oil painting nor Korean painting, somewhere between the two.
[You can't hide this one.]
Е̊n umа
The Shadow said. He'd heard it until his ears were sore.
But this time it wasn't the usual pleading.
It was a voice speaking from the heart.
Not words to soothe a child's sulking, but advice passed from one painter to another.
Lee Jun stood the painting against the wall.
Canvases couldn't be folded up anyway.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
The fifth canvas.
The Starry Night, Water Lilies, Alley, Aquarium, and the mountain with negative space.
Lee Jun's wall was filling up with paintings.
*
That night.
Lee Jun lay under the covers in bed.
E n uḿ а̀ .і d
He was looking at the ceiling.
The ceiling at his aunt's had no crack. It was different from the second floor above the Sashimi Restaurant in Busan.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
The paintings he'd done on the new canvases stood against the wall.
The oil painting with negative space in it. It was an experiment. He'd left part of the canvas deliberately unpainted.
He still doesn't know. Whether it's a success or a failure.
[Jun.]
Еnúm̆.а̇
The Shadow said.
Lee Jun answered while looking at the ceiling.
"Yeah."
[Can I give you just one piece of advice?]
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
It was strange.
It was the first time the Shadow had ever asked permission.
Ѐ n̄um̂ а_. i̊ d
Usually it was a being that simply said whatever it wanted to say.
"Yeah."
[The paint your aunt bought today.]
"Yeah."
[That stuff's expensive. You know that, right?]
Lee Jun didn't answer.
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Even without a concept of money, he knew it was expensive.
He'd seen the price tags at the art supply store. It was incomparably more expensive than crayons or colored pencils.
[A large tube of Ultramarine Blue. That's tens of thousands of won for one.
Three canvases. Linseed oil. Turpentine. All together it adds up to quite a bit.
On what your aunt earns alone, it'll be tight.]
"......"
Ên̄ ú m а
[Did you see your aunt's face today?]
Lee Jun didn't answer.
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Honestly, he hadn't seen it. His eyes had been on the paint.
[I always told you to observe people, didn't I?
Your aunt, she was smiling, but it was a little off. It wasn't her usual smile.]
Lee Jun lay quietly.
W е́b̆ṅоv̆ е l̈ Е̌ nûm̀ а
[Jun. What I really want to say is.]
The Shadow stopped.
For a long while.
[......Not being able to paint because you have no money.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
How terrifying that is, you still don't know.]
Lee Jun turned his head and looked at the Shadow.
W̌е ḃ ńоvel Ӗ n um̊ а
A black silhouette. Two white eyes.
Those eyes were different from usual. There was no mischief in them.
They looked serious, and they also looked sad.
[There's no canvas. There's no paint. There's no brush.
In your head there's a painting. You want to paint it so badly your hands shake.
But there are no tools. You want to paint and you can't.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
That...... that's the most terrifying thing in the world.]
When the crayons had worn down.
When the colored pencils had run out.
When the paint hit bottom too. At just the right moment, his aunt had sent new supplies.
This time is no different. When the oil paint had been running out too, his aunt had bought new.
He'd worried about supplies running out before, but Lee Jun had never had the experience of being unable to paint at all because the supplies were gone.
Ѐ n̄um̃ a .îd
Lee Jun looked at the Shadow without moving.
The Shadow's voice was trembling.
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[A child is crying that it's hungry.
If you don't paint, you can't get food.
But there are no tools to paint with.
That, that, how terrifying a thing it is......]
Ёnu m а
It wasn't a joke. It wasn't exaggeration.
It was real.
It was the voice of someone who had been through it.
"How does the Shadow know that?"
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
The Shadow stopped.
The white eyes looked at Lee Jun, then dropped.
Е n̊_ûm а̃. іḋ
[......I just know.]
Lee Jun didn't ask further.
This child wasn't the type to dig deep by nature.
And he sensed too that the Shadow didn't want to say any more.
[So, about that.]
The Shadow opened its mouth again. Steadying its voice.
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[I'm not saying to use the paint sparingly.
Use it sparingly and the painting gets stingy. That's no good.
When you use it, use it boldly. But don't throw it away.
Scrape the paint left on the palette and use it the next day.
Clean the brushes right after you use them. With Turpentine.
If you don't clean them they harden and you can't use them. Every brush is money.
W̆еb ñо̌ v́еl E n̈ um̂ а
You can paint on the back of a canvas too. If you don't like the front, flip it over and paint.]
Lee Jun nodded.
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[And think about where that money came from.]
"Aunt bought it?"
[Is it money your aunt earned alone?]
Lee Jun couldn't answer.
Ẽ n̊ ù m̂ а .іd
[It came from Busan. Your dad and mom sent it.
It's money earned cleaning fish at the Sashimi Restaurant.
It's money your dad earned holding a knife and standing on his feet all day long.
It's money your mom earned smiling all day, carrying food to the customers.]
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Lee Jun's eyes wavered faintly.
Dad.
W е b̄ n оv е́l̄ Ѐnùm.а̃
Dad, with fish scales stuck to his apron.
Dad, who'd said just one thing, 'Good thinking,' and ruffled his hair.
Rough, big hands. Hands that had gripped a knife, not a brush.
Mom.
Mom, indifferent, but who had worried over him.
Mom, who'd been so worn out after work every day she couldn't move.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Money earned working like that, every day, until they were spent.
[That's the paint bought with that money. That's the canvas bought with that money.
So.]
The Shadow said.
[Even when you paint one canvas, paint it properly. Don't paint it carelessly.
When you pick up the brush, pick it up in earnest.
Ė n̄ũ m ā.і̂d̀.
That's the courtesy you owe that money.]
Lee Jun looked at the ceiling for a long while.
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The ceiling in Busan had a crack.
This ceiling has none.
At the house in Busan, they hadn't been able to afford to fix that one crack.
But the paint bought with money from Busan is in this room.
Ѐ n̊úm̊ӓ. id̀
Money that had set out from his dad's hands had become the paint in Lee Jun's hands.
"......Yeah," Lee Jun said. In a small voice.
"I'll paint it properly."
The Shadow said nothing more.
Baca cerita ini hanya di situs resmi Enuma.id!
This child is in earnest when it comes to painting. Even without saying more, he would understand.
In the dark, two white eyes slowly closed.
Ě n u m a. і ḋ
Lee Jun closed his eyes too.
Tomorrow morning, when I sit down in front of the new canvas.
Let me paint a new painting.
With a new heart.
From the next day, the way Lee Jun painted changed a little.
Before, when he picked up the brush, he set it to the canvas right away.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Now he paused for a moment.
He looked at the canvas.
He thought about what to paint.
He laid out the composition in the sketchbook.
And then he picked up the brush.
[Good. Start with the underpainting.]
Еnü ḿ a. і d
The way he squeezed paint onto the palette changed too.
Before, he'd squeezed out plenty. Whatever was left, he just let it sit.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Now he squeezed out only as much as he'd use. Whatever was left over, he wrapped in plastic and put in the refrigerator.
So he could use it again the next day.
After he used a brush, he soaked it in Turpentine and cleaned it right away.
Before, when his aunt said 'Clean your brushes,' he'd say 'Later,' but now he cleaned them himself.
W е̄ b ň оv̇ѐ l Ě num а
So-young didn't notice the change.
But the Shadow knew.
[You're doing well.]
Lee Jun cleaned the brush in silence.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
As the paint dissolved off into the Turpentine, the water turned blue.
Just as the Shadow had said.
Enû m а̇ . іd
When you use it, boldly. But never throw it away.
[Shall we start the next painting?]
He stood up a new canvas.
He squeezed out the paint.
Ultramarine Blue.
The blue his mom and dad had sent.
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Boldly, and in earnest.
Lee Jun's brush moved forward.
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