As spring passed by, another twelve pages of the calendar turned one by one.
A year where special moments became routine and familiarity set in.
Enough time had passed for a new year to become part of the past.
And yet, another new year had arrived.
I had become a second-year middle school student.
*
On the terrestrial broadcasting channels, the cultural and arts program The Window to Art began airing.
The opening theme, rearranged with classical music, reflected the effort put into the program, from its music to its large studio, fitting for a public broadcaster.
Of course, the viewership ratings weren’t great. Except for a small group of people especially invested in cultural life, the program wasn’t widely watched.
However, it had a long history as one of the few pure educational shows, which gave it credibility over less polished cable programs.
In fact, clips from The Window to Art were often used in other shows like variety programs or news when they needed to reference art-related content.
With artists increasingly in the media spotlight these days, this trend became even more pronounced.
On the TV screen, a man and woman dressed neatly stood together—the hosts of The Window to Art.
“Good morning, viewers. Welcome to The Window to Art, a cultural program that brings exhibitions right to your home. I’m Hong Yohan, an exhibition guide.”
“Hello, everyone. I’m Gu Dami, a former curator.
For the first week of March 2006, we’re here to share the latest cultural and artistic news with you, along with details about some wonderful exhibitions.”
“Dami, isn’t there some exciting news in the art world lately?”
“Well, there’s been so much great news recently, I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
As soon as she finished speaking, the screen behind the two hosts came alive.
A flood of newspaper articles appeared, displaying the faces of two prodigies who emerged in 2005: Go Hana and Han Mari.
The articles were in English, Japanese, and Chinese, all buzzing about the young girls who had produced unbelievable works of art at such a young age.
[Modern-Day Matisse and Picasso Dramatically Meet Through a Competition.]
[Two Geniuses Sharing a Unique Worldview.]
[Two Girls Overcome Death and Poverty to Achieve Greatness.]
[Korea’s Version of the Royal Academy of Art? The Reasons Why So Many Geniuses Gather Here.]
“Did you know that the story of these two young prodigies, who took Korea by storm last year, has now been featured in international documentaries?”
“Oh, of course. Their story has once again drawn the attention of countless collectors and curators. Thanks to this renewed interest, I heard the exhibition period for Go Hana’s special exhibit at the AZ Museum has been extended.”
“Originally scheduled to end on April 2, the exhibit will now run through May 12 to coincide with Family Month. So, viewers who haven’t had the chance to visit due to busy schedules, we highly recommend you take this opportunity to go. The exhibit is The Birth of a Moment by Go Hana, located in the special exhibition hall on the first floor of the AZ Museum in Jongno.”
“And speaking of Go Hana, we can’t leave out her rival…..Han Mari, who has overcome immense hardships to return to us. Han Mari’s Every Day, 1 and 0 exhibit is being held at the City Art Museum near the AZ Museum, so please make sure to check it out as well.”
After a brief promotion, the program host Gu Dami spoke with admiration.
“It’s truly amazing. In the field of art, simply ‘drawing well’ isn’t enough to capture attention. Artists need a kind of star quality that draws people in, and for them to possess such talent at such a young age… It’s like seeing the very seedlings the Korean art world has been waiting for.”
“However, there’s some criticism too. Some say it’s premature to spotlight these unproven young girls on television or accuse Hanul of assigning ghostwriters to help them, making ‘idol artists essentially’”
“That’s impossible. Absolutely impossible. All of their works have undergone rigorous verification. Even critics and artists who study and critique such cases have acknowledged them…”
“…Acknowledged them, and that’s why they’re finally being treated as true prodigies?”
“Exactly.”
“And there’s another remarkable aspect, isn’t there?”
“That’s right! Both artists have such captivating backstories that it’s hard to look away…”
In a paint-smeared studio, I sat alone, gripping my phone tightly as I spoke.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I don’t have any plans to make a formal appearance on an entertainment program.”
“Oh no…”
On the other end of the phone, I heard the disappointed voice of a PD. He was in charge of a reality-variety program and had invited me to an artist-themed special episode once.
Since then, he’d occasionally called, asking, “Are you sure you don’t want to appear again?”
It had been rewarding to talk about art among the industry giants, but the aftermath was exhausting. People wouldn’t stop speculating that I was aiming for a career in broadcasting.
The reality-variety program’s artist special.
A quiet elementary school student (though I was actually in my first year of middle school, they kept calling me an elementary student for the drama of it) sitting demurely among a group of adults….it must have left an impression.
My face was used frequently for scene transitions as the “cute one.”
As a result, I was bombarded with proposals to pursue a career as a “smart idol with a cute image.”
– Go Hana, are you sure you’re not thinking of joining the entertainment world?
– I’m sorry, I’m not interested.
– This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!
– I’m sorry, really.
– Why won’t someone with your looks dream of becoming a celebrity?!
– I’m sorry.
Each time I heard their offers, I couldn’t help but think of my best friend, Juri, and her own difficult past with the entertainment world. (Though Juri herself had grown stronger and now viewed it as a meaningful experience.)
For me, however, it was impossible to accept. I had no desire to venture into broadcasting, to begin with.
Thus, I had long since firmly rejected all offers from the entertainment industry.
“They don’t want Go Hana, the artist,” I thought to myself, “they just want an obedient kid who can act smart and cute on screen.”
If I confused that distinction and mistook it for a genuine opportunity, it would only lead to regret.
Attention could indeed open doors, but relying on uncontrollable external forces could turn toxic.
Perhaps sensing my resolve, the PD sighed over the phone.
“That’s a shame…”
“Thank you for thinking so highly of me.”
“You know, if our program got picked up for a regular slot, there was even talk about making you a permanent guest. You know how people say our show looks cheap because it only features rookie comedians and male actors? When you appeared, people said it looked classier.”
“Haha… I think that’s thanks to you, the cast, and the guests, not me.”
“Oh, come on, now you’re just making me feel worse.”
“Haha…”
“By the way, aren’t you close with Han Mari? I saw in the news that they call you two ‘prodigies bound by fate.’”
“Well, we’re friends, but bound by fate… that’s a bit much…”
“Do you know if Han Mari has any interest in broadcasting? Has she ever said she wanted to appear on a show? I was wondering if you could persuade her; maybe we could arrange something for her.”
“…”
Han Mari, who technically should be in her third year of middle school, had repeated her second year due to a leave of absence.
Over the past year, Mari rarely showed up in her own classroom. Even when she did, it felt more like she was escaping to the infirmary rather than attending class.
Aside from our new hideout, the studio, and each other’s homes, she rarely ventured to crowded places.
‘She always struggled with group life, commuting from home instead of staying in the dorms.
But after she was discharged, it’s like she was completely disconnected from the outside world, except for me, Juri, and Mija…’
Naturally, she hadn’t made any appearances on broadcasts, either. As a result, more and more people started asking me about Mari’s current situation.
Of course, I never shared anything about her without permission.
I was her friend, not someone who’d exploit her name to inflate my own worth. So, once again, I politely answered the PD.
“I’m sorry. That’s not something I can speak on her behalf.”
“…I see. Got it.”
After my firm refusal, the conversation awkwardly shifted to pleasantries to save face for both sides. Eventually, the call ended.
I shoved my phone into the pocket of my school uniform and sprawled on the studio sofa. The ten-minute call had drained me.
‘Entertainment news is way too intense for a homebody artist like me…’
Thankfully, the quietness of the studio helped calm me down. It seemed like this was just my nature.
“Hoo…”
‘Ever since my face became somewhat known, I’ve been getting calls from industries that have nothing to do with me.’
I thought back on the past year, to the whirlwind of 2005’s first semester.
Clearing the condition to secure my personal studio (winning a competition).
Using the prize money to rent gallery space for my solo exhibition.
The media coverage that followed when word spread about an elementary student (technically a middle schooler) holding a solo exhibit.
The frenzy of journalists hyping me up with dramatic headlines like
“Is this the prodigy everyone’s been talking about?”
And before I knew it, I had been molded into a character straight out of a story:
The protagonist of a human ode standing against the genius who even defies God, Han Mari.
The narrative spun into something akin to a comic book plot:
A child, despite their difficult family circumstances, discovers art on their own, perseveres to enter Korea’s top gifted school, and even holds a solo exhibition, leaving countless artists and critics in awe.
“…”
Did they embellish it?
I don’t know.
Anyway, it seemed to tug at people’s heartstrings.
‘It contrasted perfectly with Mari’s background, so people exaggerated my actions even more. That’s how I ended up rushing from one place to another last year.’
For an artist, participating in entertainment isn’t necessarily a bad thing. You could aim for a strategy like Andy Warhol’s—half artist, half celebrity.
But it didn’t feel like the right time for me to handle that kind of spotlight.
“…”
More accurately,
I didn’t feel ready myself.
Still lying on the sofa, I turned my head.
“…”
There were paintings from my last solo exhibition all over the place.
They were oil paintings on tightly stretched canvases, depicting countless human figures like sound waves.
These were works I had conceptualized since the time I shadowed artist Oh Yujin .
They were pieces I had hesitated to create, lacking the confidence to show them, but I finally poured them out of my mind.
And these works caught public attention.
People who saw them called me a genius.
At the same time, these paintings made me reflect a lot.
‘This is… just a painting by Go Hun, a future disciple of Oh Yujin , drawn while learning her philosophy. It’s absolutely not a beauty created through my own insight into the times.’
They were the posthumous works of Go Hun.
All I had done was follow the teachings of the distant future, reflecting the refined trends of 20 years later. A painting by an unknown artist of the future had merely drifted into the past.
Thus, this was “Go Hun’s legacy,” not the language of “Go Hana.” I did not deserve to be treated as a genius ahead of my time because of this.
I was still a ghost of 2024.
“…”
Even though I was reborn.
I had not taken a single step out of Go Hun’s shadow.
That realization made me a little embarrassed.
But at the same time, because I had faced this for the first time, I could reflect on my shortcomings. If I understood, I could improve. That alone was already a step forward. I could certainly become better.
‘Next time, I’ll create better paintings…’
I made that resolve.
“……..”
As I steadied my resolve,
a bell rang, reaching all the way to the corner of Building C, where my studio was located.
Ding, ding, ding. A long, triple chime.
It was the mealtime bell of Hanul Comprehensive Arts School.
The moment I heard it, a tiny sound escaped from my stomach, almost reflexively. It was the cry of hunger.
-Growl…
“…Heung.”
Whimper.
I was hungry.
Over the past year, my body had fully adjusted to the luxury of a top-tier diet.