The old man had a loud, clear voice, and when he shouted like that, all the parents in the room turned to look at him.
He wore a crescent-white Tang suit, his white hair and beard were neatly combed, he was slender but had a straight back, and his wrinkles around his eyes revealed his spirit.
Yu Yang's mother had sharp eyes. The moment she spotted the old man, her eyes lit up, and she grabbed Yu Yang and pushed forward, smiling broadly as she reached out her hand.
"Master Wu! It's great to finally meet you! I've heard so much about you!"
This elderly man is Mr. Wu's father, respectfully known in the industry as Master Wu.
So many people are enrolling in Mr. Wu's studio not only because they value Mr. Wu's skills, but also because of his reputation as a master.
Although Master Wu is now retired and in a semi-retired state, he is absolutely a towering figure in the entire Chinese art circle.
He comes from an artistic family and learned to paint from his family from a young age. He also studied at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris in his early years.
After returning to China, he became a professor at the Central Academy of Fine Arts, and was considered a pillar of the oil painting department, teaching many students who later became leading figures in the art world.
Most of these students are now professors at art academies across the country or famous painters; their influence is truly widespread.
In the Chinese art world, everyone respects Professor Wu; he is a universally recognized master.
Although he no longer teaches, sending your child to his daughter's art studio might just give them some "guidance" from a master.
That's what Yu Yang's mother thought, which is why she chose to come all the way to G City instead of the capital city's art studio.
She was so excited to meet Master Wu that her fingertips trembled. She quickly pushed Yu Yang forward and took another half step forward herself.
The old man was using a cane, which made things difficult for him. He didn't shake hands with Yu Yang's mother, but simply nodded kindly to the chubby boy.
At this moment, two young teaching assistants came out and quickly went over to help the old man down the stairs.
"Hey, sir, what brings you out here?"
The old man was clearly in a bad mood, and he said unhappily while tapping his cane.
"You're asking me what's wrong? You guys are taking an exam, making such a racket! I could hear you all from upstairs! It's keeping me awake!"
The female teaching assistant who had just been a model muttered something under her breath.
"Well, we didn't expect the old gentleman to still be sleeping at 11 a.m., isn't it said that older people don't need much sleep?"
Is this the important point?
The old man puffed out his beard and glared, his eyes darting around like a child.
But he wasn't really angry. He plopped down on the sofa and said, "Tell me! What exactly happened?"
Just as the female teaching assistant was about to speak, Yu Yang's mother came over.
"Master, some students' parents look down on you!"
As he spoke, he embellished the story, turning black into white, and recounted what had just happened.
The old man frowned as he listened.
"What an arrogant tone! How can there be such rude parents who bring their children to the exam and actually cause trouble?!"
Seeing that the old man was on the same page as her, Yu Yang's mother immediately felt closer to him and quickly added a few more words with great enthusiasm.
"That's right, she's just not convinced. She says her child is number one, and you, Master, are not as good as her child! She even said she's not as good as Leonardo da Vinci! And what about... Van, Van Nai, Mogao Caves? I've never even heard of them. I don't know if she made them up! She actually brought them up to compare with you!"
"What utter nonsense!"
The old man stroked his beard and shook his head, but when he heard "Van Gogh" and "Monet," his cloudy eyes suddenly lit up.
"Wait, is she talking about Van Gogh? Monet?"
It was the 1980s, and Western cultural information was limited. Among foreign painters, only Leonardo da Vinci was relatively well-known because he was introduced to China by Xu Beihong during the Republic of China period.
Impressionists like Van Gogh and Monet are only occasionally discussed by art professors; the average person knows very little about them.
Surprisingly, in a small city like G, some parents even mentioned that their children's paintings were just as good as theirs.
"interesting……"
The old man stroked his beard with his fingertips, then suddenly straightened his back.
"Bring me that child's drawing! I want to take a good look and see just how well her child draws!"
He gestured with his chin toward the teaching assistant, "Minmin, go and fetch them back."
Zhou Qiqi is still in the yard.
When the old man came down just now, he brought with him a gust of "magical wind" that blew the painting that Zhou Qiqi was carrying under her arm all the way to the second-floor balcony.
This was a painting Zhouzhou painted herself, and Zhou Qiqi couldn't bear to leave it outside. She was about to ask the people inside to help bring the painting down.
Hearing that Grandpa Wu wanted to see Zhouzhou's paintings and even used the word "please," she glanced around and nodded.
The teaching assistant ran back with the drawings in her hands, and spread the two sheets of paper out on the coffee table.
On the left, apple-colored blocks are piled up, while on the right, only two eyes fill the frame, with specks of colored pencil still smeared in the pupils.
The old man leaned closer, his reading glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose, and stared at the drawing paper for a full three minutes.
Taking the opportunity, Yu Yang's mother winked at him, and the chubby boy quickly placed his own drawing over as well.
The apple on the left has delicate lighting and shadows, while the portrait on the right even clearly depicts the mole on the model's earlobe.
Old Master Wu frowned even more deeply as he looked at the scene, then suddenly tapped his cane and spoke sternly.
"First place, and this is the level? You call this a painting?"
Yu Yang's mother immediately became smug, a smirk playing on her lips as she glanced at Zhou Qiqi.
"You're absolutely right! This can't even be called a painting! The apples don't look like apples, and the people don't look like people. It's a complete waste of paper!"
Upon hearing this, Old Master Wu actually nodded.
Zhou Qiqi pouted in disappointment.
"What a master! I came here because of Mr. Wu's reputation, but I didn't expect to come to the wrong place."
"I still maintain that judging the quality of a painting should never be based solely on whether it 'resembles' the subject. Rather, it should be based on whether it has 'soul,' 'emotion,' and 'unique expression'!"
No sooner had he finished speaking than Old Master Wu lowered his head and slammed his hand on the table.
Everyone thought the old man was about to lose his temper and waited to see what would happen.
Yu Yang's mother looked at Zhou Qiqi with smug satisfaction, wanting to see how embarrassed she would be.
Even Zhou Qiqi herself thought that the old man had been angered by her, so she quickly hugged Zhouzhou tightly.
Even if the other party is a master, she is not afraid in the slightest.
Unexpectedly, when Grandpa Wu raised his head, what shone in his eyes was not anger, but full of admiration!
"Excellent! Excellent! What a wonderful 'soul'! What wonderful 'emotion'! What a unique expression!"
"Well said!"
“When I was studying in Paris, my teacher said something like this to me!”
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