Diamond Dust Novel - Chapter 26

That didn’t mean he was now considerate of my feelings, though. He made no effort to hide his lack of interest, even though the question was his own.

“How has it been since then?”

“……”

But his expression changed when he talked about things he was interested in. Just like now. Lighting the cigarette he had been holding in his fingers without smoking, he looked at me with a face that sparkled with mischievous curiosity.

I was looking at his eyes obscured by the sunglasses, or more accurately, at the sunglasses, because I didn’t know what he was asking about.

“Are things going well with Choi Inwoo?”

Chuckling as if he realized his question was childish, he added another question.

“Does he keep calling you?”

“Sometimes… he asks if I’m eating well… things like that.”

“Choi Inwoo? Talking about food?”

As if to suggest that a scoundrel would never truly mend his ways, like a person dismissing such a virtuous tale, he even scoffed. He took off his sunglasses, placed them on the table, and leaned his face obliquely toward his shoulder, looking across at me.

“It seems Choi Inwoo thinks of Mr. Seo Yihyun as utterly naive. Seeing as all he’s curious about is whether you’re eating well.”

I couldn’t fathom the meaning behind his words. Hadn’t the generosity of his ‘something akin to responsibility’ advice fulfilled its duty that night?

Watching him smoke and drink his coffee, I restrained myself from asking, ‘Then why are you so curious about the relationship between Inwoo Hyung and me, Director?’ That would have been a regrettable provocation. No, it wouldn’t even register as a provocation; it would become a weakness.

The gallery was closed for the holiday, but the Samcheong-dong street on this early summer Saturday was bustling with people. Although the garden was concealed by tall shrubs, the voices of the passersby were close enough to be heard clearly, all of them buoyant with enjoyment.

My cup, which I had barely touched, had not diminished in volume, the ice having melted and diluted the coffee. Smoke from the cigarette in his hand drifted lightly from the shade toward the sun. The edge of the parasol, covered in a cheerful blue and white striped awning, fluttered. I suddenly wanted to try on the sunglasses he had placed on the table, but I lacked the courage to act on the impulse.

He rested his elbow on the table, leaning his upper body toward me. He stroked his brow with the ring finger of the hand holding the cigarette and said:

“Or… is it that he lost interest because you aren’t an Alpha or an Omega?”

“……”

Smiling slightly as he said that, he seemed to be showing a twisted interest now, in contrast to before, precisely because I wasn’t an Omega. That’s all I could see. A man deeply frustrated because I wasn’t an Omega.

However, even that twisted interest didn’t last long. His phone on the table vibrated, and he abruptly stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette in a portable ashtray without regret, and hastily stood up.

The truck carrying the artworks had arrived.

***

With his ‘Body to Soul’ series, revealed to the world approximately eight months after the ‘Body and Soul’ exhibition, which garnered an enthusiastic response from visitors, critics, and industry press, Shu-shu not only cemented the perfection of his own unique style but also demonstrated a renewed, deepened thematic focus.

‘The body’ as a means of expressing ‘the soul.’

‘The body’ is tormented by incongruity with ‘the soul.’

‘The body’ exists physically, regardless of ‘the soul.’

In tackling the subject of ‘the body,’ Shu-shu has already reached a level of sophistication that belies his age and experience.

As if sending a mature taunt to the antiquated views of some art figures who still refuse to acknowledge photography as a realm of art and merely regard it as an auxiliary tool for documentation, he presents an extreme approach in the ‘Body to Soul’ series, using only light and shadow, lines and planes.

The result of the work, which largely abandons the realistic characteristics of photography, is closer to painting in the traditional sense.

As everyone knows, the simpler the form, the more clearly the substance is revealed. To use a Korean food analogy, he has prepared an excellent meal with only a handful of rice and a stalk of kimchi. A simple, honest dish that does not lose its dignity or individuality.

Faced with a style that only Shu-shu can present, a style that does not stop there but leads to a serious and essential contemplation of life and humanity, and the weighty thematic consciousness carved into the works after rigorous self-reflection, one cannot help but admire this young artist’s external and internal worlds.

In front of his work, I always feel anguish.

I find the part of myself I wish not to encounter reflected in his pieces, and I want to turn away, pretend not to see, and turn my back.

And at the same time, I feel an uncharacteristic impulse to confront that self, just once, if only I could, if only I could muster a little more courage. Because he, too, must have gone through that process of suffering to imbue his work with soul.

Yet, I know. That is not something that can be attempted with mere impulsive courage. I will likely remain cowardly in the future.

And I will live on with the thin consolation that by temporarily allowing his work to remind me of my own cowardice, I have preserved a minimum of my humanity. Whatever anyone says, that is what art means to me: forcing us to stand before a colossal theme and contemplate the vague meaning of life, beyond the continuous routine.

As both a dealer and a collector of his work, and also an ardent fan, I await the works he will present in the future with a mix of excitement and torment.