exaggerate.

This is the only feeling that "Tokyo" gives Yamauchi on the first floor.

Yes.

It's really too exaggerated.

Whether it is the misty overall picture or the brushwork, or the Tokyo pedestrians stretched and distorted by light and shadow, the word "exaggeration" is revealed.

Everything on the screen looked shaky.

Everything presents a sense of arrogance and delusion.

Exaggerated - but based on reality.

This is indeed the rhythm of Tokyo today.

This city is so exaggerated that one cannot even tell that it has just emerged from the financial crisis...

Underneath the exaggerated brushwork, it was suppressed by the cold color. No...it was suppressed by a figure that suppressed the overall exaggerated style of the oil painting.

That was a middle-aged man.

The decadent middle-aged man looks so realistic in the distorted and exaggerated figures and scenery of Tokyo.

After a day's work, he leaned against the telephone pole tiredly, his head half lowered, and the fire in his eyes had long since dissipated.

Maybe he used to be very passionate and dreamy.

But now...his dream has long been wiped out by Tokyo, his blood has lost its temperature, and he has become a member of the noisy and noisy Tokyo.

His lips pursed, as if unwilling to give in, and there was a look of extreme pain on his face.

"Why is my life so difficult?"

He seemed to be saying this.

Perhaps in the eyes of the middle-aged man in the oil painting, Tokyo is a place where dreams can be realized and gold is everywhere.

But in a place like this... why can't you share even a little bit of your dreams with him?

The heartbeat on the first floor of the mountain was beating loudly. Looking at this decadent middle-aged man, an inexplicable anger emerged in his heart.

Have you just given up? Can’t you try harder?

He really wanted to say that.

But there is no way...

This is also the helplessness of reality.

The Tokyo pedestrians next to him wouldn't even look at him... because there are too many drunks in Tokyo.

Contrast with the warm colors of the exaggerated Tokyo streets, with the sneers of pedestrians, and with the pale cold colors of middle-aged people...

The sense of picture rises in front of the first floor of the mountain.

Looking at the middle-aged man in the oil painting, memories of the first floor of Yamauchi also came to my mind.

That was more than twenty years ago.

Yamauchi, whose family background is poor, only has talent in art that is worthy of praise.

In order for him to finish college, his two older sisters gave up their high school studies.

But at that time, it was also the bubble economy period. Japan's economy was crumbling, social unrest, and all the people outside were unemployed and homeless.

Under such circumstances, it is undoubtedly very difficult for the two female sisters to find jobs.

They had no choice but to work part-time on the streets of Tokyo to support their younger brother Yamauchi's education on the first floor.

The bitter days were swallowed into the stomach of the first floor of the mountain along with the winter wind and snow. He could only immerse himself in painting and paint seriously.

Dedicate the whole world to painting——

He didn't dare to look behind him, because he knew that behind him was the world dedicated by his two sisters.

But it's also a heavy pressure.

The eldest sister and the second sister put their lives on the first floor of Yamauchi without asking for anything in return.

"I still remember that winter." Yamauchi whispered to himself on the first floor while watching "Tokyo": "My two sisters picked me up from college. When I happened to pass by Tabata North Exit Station, the clock on the platform square of the station struck twelve.

The order bell rang, and the eldest sister went to the roadside stall and bought three bowls of soba noodles... The three of us ate while hiding from the snow under the awning in the station square."

"The snow is very heavy...the wind is biting. Looking back on my sister's pain over the past year, I cried while eating noodles...like a child. The two sisters next to me also had sore noses, but they were just convulsions.

I didn't cry twice... Snowflakes were falling everywhere, but I just looked up and saw the name of the clock on the platform square."

The voice on the first floor of Yamauchi was filled with inexplicable emotions.

"That clock is called 'Hope'."

The middle-aged active painter on the side also recovered from the inexplicable atmosphere brought by "Tokyo".

After hearing what Yamauchi said on the first floor, he also opened his mouth, but then nothing came out.

'hope'...

There are so many words that leave people with mixed feelings.

Especially in those difficult times, this word becomes even more complicated.

"This painting "Tokyo" is really a good work."

Yamauchi on the first floor commented softly.

Needless to say, the technique, the completely different styles of exaggeration and decadence coexist at the same time, which is enough to illustrate the author's sophistication.

More importantly, it combines the author's own understanding of Tokyo.

In the author's eyes, this is what Tokyo looks like.

There is hope, disappointment, helplessness, and reality...

But no matter how many people or faces, this is Tokyo.

This is all Tokyo.

Different from "Ascension to Beijing" by Akisa Kuromiya, this painting aroused the emotions of the four painters present.

Yes, at some point, they were all attracted by this painting "Tokyo".

Who didn’t become famous by hard work?

They look glamorous on the outside, but in fact they have compromised for reality countless times.

But that's life...

No one's life can be smooth sailing.

Even billionaires with millions of dollars will always have bad days.

An excellent painting is difficult to bury.

At least "Tokyo" belongs to such a painting.

From this, the judges present actually felt a sense of life.

"There is such a dark horse."

The middle-aged active painter also muttered to himself.

Yes, if just now he was a loyal fan of Akisa Kuromiya's "Tokyo", then now he is a die-hard fan of "Tokyo".

He is still the kind of fan who will go up and argue with the other party if he says 'no'.

Even if he tried his best to offend Akisa Kuromiya and her teacher Yamauchi Ichiro, the middle-aged active painter decided to vote for the Golden Prize for "Tokyo".

This is his professional ethics.

After all, the quality of "Tokyo" here is much higher than that of "Shangjing".

But at the same time, the middle-aged active painter is also a little curious: "Speaking of which, this is the student from the five major art academies? This is too amazing..."

As he spoke, his eyes looked upward, followed by a muttering voice:

"Kita gyijuku private high school...Higashinoji?"

high school?

Northern gyei school?

Higashinoji?

The combination of these keywords reminded the middle-aged active painter of something.

He opened his mouth wide and was completely stunned: "Wait a minute?! Isn't this the author who won the gold medal in the student category? He also participated in the adult category?!"

How is this a dark horse?

This is simply Pegasus!

A high school student who has not received any systematic university education actually draws works of this level?

"This is great... This, this is wrong... Could it be that he hired someone to do the painting for him? This is impossible..."

The middle-aged active painter can't accept it.

If "Tokyo" is indeed painted by Higashino Tsukasa...

"Then maybe there really is a genius in this world..."

Someone couldn't help but whisper something.

yes...

This...it's impossible for anyone not to be a genius to draw works of this level at the age of high school.
Chapter completed!