The exhibition hall that’s been opened to commemorate the crown prince’s birthday was, surprisingly enough, quieter than expected.
Was it because it had been open for a long time now, or was it because only a few people wanted to build their artistic literacy? Then again, maybe she was just lucky.
It was thanks to this that Violet was able to stroll through the exhibit more leisurely than she initially anticipated.
The paintings on display throughout the hall gave her a pleasant shock.
Even if she saw paintings every day in the first place, looking at other people’s works was a vastly different experience compared to looking at just one’s own.
If Violet’s pieces contained raw emotions, the paintings on display here exuded beauty and the artists’ technique.
Given that Violet had lived not only as a noble but as a duke’s daughter, she had seen many paintings in her lifetime. Her family had several valuable paintings, and many artists had been invited to paint Violet’s likeness for portraits.
The artists of these paintings brought out such vivacity in their work with the way they wielded colors and light. And with delicate strokes, details were masterfully portrayed.
Unlike Violet’s paintings, which depicted only abstract things, the paintings in this exhibition hall displayed only the beauty found in this world.
Thus, therein lay the artist’s spectacular career.
Violet had a sinking feeling.
She had come to this exhibit in hopes of finding clues to end her slump, but it felt as if seeing all these pieces would just make the slump last even longer.
In a world where cameras had been developed, what followed was the artist’s pursuit of abstract beauty instead of elaborate and realistic depictions.
Cameras were widespread in the world where Yoon Ha-yeon had lived.
However, the cameras of this era were still the exclusive property of the wealthy nobility. Thus, the paintings admired by all tended to capture beauty in the most detailed and realistic manner.
With even the sun’s rays perfectly depicted in the piece before her, Violet thought that it’s as if the canvas itself carried a piece of nature within it.
People say that the world was God’s most beautiful creation.
As someone who had lived as a ducal lady, Violet never once tried to capture the beauty of God’s creation.
Whether it was the city during nighttime, whether it was the sunset, or whether it was someone’s portrait—they were all beautiful, too.
Paintings showed traces of the era in which the artist lived and all the concerns they had, all intact. As a painter herself, Violet was also aware of this fact.
“Wow, we have this painting at home, too.”
“Ohh, really?”
“You’re a maid of House Everett, aren’t you? It’s hanging in Father’s office.”
“Ack, but I’m Milady’s exclusive maid, so why I’ve… I’ve never been in His Grace’s office!”
Mary and Cairn, who didn’t have much of an eye for art, only talked about things that weren’t related to the paintings.
If there were more people in the exhibition hall, someone might have hushed them.
Leaving them behind as she appreciated the paintings here, Violet realized her arrogance. With the kind of troubles she had, she was just whining.
As a ducal lady, her life could be considered unfortunate, but by no means was her life the most unfortunate there was in the world.
Her troubles were insignificant compared to that of the painters who created the paintings here.
The more she thought about it, the more Violet was humbled. Self-pity does nothing.
Why did they take up the brush? Why did they paint such sceneries? How did they feel as they painted?
Questions upon questions followed one another. As she was aware of the painting techniques she could do and those that she couldn’t do, Violet was in awe as she looked at the pieces.
At the same time, she wanted to know.
What kind of lives had they lived that they pursued art and became painters?
“Milady, you look like you’re in a good mood.”
“Do I? …I look like that?”
“You’re very focused. You have that same expression whenever you’re painting, too.”
In Mary’s eyes, the ducal lady who was painting was like a painting herself. With sunlight streaming through the windows and shining upon her, the viewer would feel as though they couldn’t dare approach her.
Unable to bear keeping his mouth shut, Cairn spoke coldly towards Violet.
“But aren’t all these paintings the same? Why’re you even reacting like that.”
“Anyone who doesn’t know how to wield a sword will say the same thing about your swordsmanship skill. You’ll only be able to see what you already know.”
“No but, are you seriously lumping together art and swordsmanship? Isn’t art just art? You can just pay artists money and ask them to paint whatever.”
“…The third young master is such a fool.”
“I fully agree.”
The paintings on display in this hall were in the imperial family’s collection and were thus invaluable. It’s impossible to put a price on any of them.
Even Cairn’s way of appreciating art was simplistic. He had not been blessed with even a single strand of artistic refinement.
Without saying anything, a single question could be read clearly from Aldin’s eyes.
‘Is he really the son of a noble, this brute?’
Mary similarly replied with a sigh.
‘I don’t know either…’
* * *
Right then, while the group was idly discussing different ideas…
“Oh?”
Mary caught sight of a tremendously splendid person.
