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On a professional level, Nora instinctively adopted a guarded stance, even toward her husband and son. But professionalism is professionalism—Nora had her own principles and pride, as if she could don a cape and transform into Wonder Woman in a second.
Anson noticed and quickly raised his hands in surrender, "We're just discussing, purely discussing."
Nora raised her chin slightly, crossed her arms over her chest, and struck a pose that said, "Go ahead, let's hear it."
Anson cleared his throat. "Ah, why does this suddenly feel like we're in a professor's pop quiz mode?" he teased playfully.
Nora cooperatively pushed up her imaginary glasses, patiently waiting for him to continue.
Anson said, "I understand your concept. Start by talking about the changes in urban space, present the narrative's beginning, middle, and end chronologically, and clarify the development and evolution of this art form. That way, outsiders can quickly grasp and immerse themselves in this space."
"But, Mom, do you know the script formula for Hollywood movies?"
"Within the first three or five minutes, they throw out a crisis or conflict. While the protagonist solves it, not only does it capture the audience's attention, but it also reveals the protagonist's personality and sets up future plot points."
"The key is to increase the appeal."
Nora frowned slightly, "Are you saying we should compromise with commercialism? Although the main purpose of planning an art exhibition is for commercial operation, this kind of blatant approach may not work well in an exhibition."
Anson shook his head. "If it were the Upper West Side, where the elite consider themselves cultured and maintain their composure, they wouldn't reveal their superficiality even if the exhibit were dull. So, the planning shouldn't be too shallow or direct."
"But in the East Village, there are no such pretensions. If they don't like it, they don't like it. If you don't throw something heavy at them from the start, they won't be interested."
Art?
Anson and Nora were really discussing art!
Carol knew she shouldn't be surprised. If Nora was Anson's mother, it meant Anson had been exposed to art all his life, so of course, he should have some artistic insight. Besides, they were in a gallery, so talking about art should be normal.
Still, Carol couldn't help herself, her mind racing with thoughts.
As she turned, two coworkers immediately surrounded her with gossip-filled expressions. Carol had just handed them soda water and hot milk and was about to set the tray down when she was dragged aside to quietly discuss the situation.
Then, one of her coworkers with a strange goatee paused, "Great, now can someone tell me who he is?"
Carol stared at him in disbelief. "You don't know who he is, then what were you gossiping with us about?"
He replied seriously, "I'm just trying to fit in. I don't want to be the only guy in the office who's left out. I thought I'd pick up some clues from your conversation, but now I see I need a little more help."
"Anson, that's Anson Wood. You don't know him?"
"Do I need to?"
"Oh my God, what era are you living in, the Jurassic?"
"A man in his thirties, I have no interest in those pretty-boy idols."
As soon as he said that, the two women replied in unison, "He's not a pretty boy."
The man looked at the two women in surprise, like a startled rabbit. "See, this is exactly the situation I was hoping to avoid."
The next second, all three of them fell silent, nervously glancing toward Nora and Anson, afraid they'd been overheard.
Luckily, Nora and Anson remained focused on their conversation.
Nora was carefully considering Anson's words.
To be honest, Nora didn't like people interfering with her work—she had her own expertise. But this time, the exhibit had encountered some challenges, and Anson's suggestions, though simple and logical, didn't seem so hard to accept, especially since they came from her youngest son.
Nora thought for a moment. "So, you're suggesting we pick one of the most important pieces from the last section of the exhibit and place it at the front?"
Anson shook his head. "No, that would spoil the climax. If people get hit with the peak moment right away and the rest of the exhibit falls short of their expectations, they might criticize it harshly and even impact the overall review."
"We should choose a distinctive, impactful piece from the later middle section and put it up front as a hook."
"Through it, we can showcase the relationship between people and the city, which is a core theme of the exhibition. By skipping the buildup, we grab the attention of passersby in a direct and visually striking way, stirring their curiosity and making them interested in the exhibit."
Nora nodded. "We can do that. Do you have any suggestions?"
Anson stopped in front of a particular painting.
Following Anson's gaze, Nora looked at the painting—a unique piece:
It used vivid colors to construct a steel forest, vibrant and dazzling, with an obvious pop-art style. Yet, in the center of the forest, there was a small, gray figure, lost.
Undoubtedly, it was a visually striking piece, using color to present the noise of a modern city. But on closer inspection, one could notice the gray figure nearly swallowed by the colors. And if you looked even closer, you'd see more gray figures hiding in the shadows of the chaotic colors, like the little spirits hidden in the grass in "My Neighbor Totoro," visible only to the observant.
Color dominated all sight and sound.
Although the work wasn't quite mature, its impact was palpable.
"Interesting choice." Nora showed some admiration.
Anson appreciated it in detail. "I like the sense of lines within the colors. So, how much does this piece cost?"
Nora looked surprised.
Anson smiled. "Hey, my apartment in New York is missing a painting. At least I can support my mom's work with action."
Nora smiled. "I don't see a reason to refuse. This painting is by a young artist, just starting out. He hasn't made a name for himself yet, so it's priced at $5,000."
Anson raised an eyebrow slightly. "That low?"
Nora replied, "It's probably his rent for half a year."
Anson glanced at the artist's name, "Sebastian Orsino." Indeed, a young artist he'd never heard of.
"That name," Anson's smile widened. "A fan of Shakespeare?"
Sebastian and Orsino were both names from William Shakespeare's early work "Twelfth Night," obvious to anyone who knew it was a pseudonym.
Nora shrugged lightly. "Shakespeare might be significant in film and theater, but in the art world? Sorry, son, I don't think his name carries much weight here."
Anson chuckled. "Maybe that's why he hasn't gotten much attention. People don't even understand the meaning behind his name."
Nora sighed lightly. "I'm just glad he didn't pick a name like Banksy."
Anson didn't hide his surprise. "Oh, Mom, you know Banksy?"
Nora exhaled softly. "His work isn't my area of expertise, but during a trip to London for this exhibit, I visited his first official exhibition."