2: That Fateful Night

A year had passed since the day Donghae’s parents left him and he had worked his fingers to the bone to stay afloat. He worked endless hours as an assistant to the director of the Nature Poem Art Gallery in Seoul until at last he got his first chance to display his work- along with a few other amateur artists- for the world to see just months later.  It had been an eventful night indeed; many had come from faraway places at the recommendation of the director himself. The man was shameless in his outright boastfulness as he gloriously gloated about the young prodigy that worked beside him. Donghae was bashful, to say the least, at his senior’s constant swaggering although even he had to admit that it had all been a blessing to his career.  Many of wealth had found his works compelling and for months after the exhibition had ended, Donghae found he was quite busy with commission work.
 

Between commissions he worked overtime to get his second collection completed at an earlier proposed prospect of a solo exhibition at the famous gallery. The proposal was quite enthralling, so much so that Donghae spent far too many sleepless nights working until finally, he had a collection worth showcasing. It was soon after that that a date was set for his second and biggest exhibition yet, to his utter delight. He would get an entire floor to himself for the duration of no less than two weeks, which would allow him the publicity he most wanted and undeniably needed to get his career going.

Just as a flash of lightning, the day of his showcase arrived with haste. Donghae stood before his full-length bedroom mirror and scanned his appearance as his hands worked on fastening his necktie. It was a great day to be feeling joyous, and Donghae surely felt joy in his heart however, beside that joy lay and empty space where once there was love.
  Donghae took a moment to look into the eyes of the man reflected in the mirror; he was a determined man, an ambitious man, and a lonely one too. A year ago he could easily have enjoyed his achievements with not a single worry in the world but the thought of his parent’s approval. They were firm parents, always wanting the best of the best for him, and they loved him dearly. He had known their love for him when they were there, constantly beside him and endlessly guiding him along his way. There had been no doubts in the past that they treasured him beyond belief. The past had led him to believe things… things that he now doubted in the back of his mind.

The man in the mirror had eyes that spoke of such doubt. Those eyes told a story of a man seeking an explanation. He was unhappy and wanted to know why. With this being his day and all, he should at the very least have a smile on his face. That rock solid expression would get him nowhere in the hearts of those who loved all things soft and tender. Perhaps Donghae’s life had changed only to become a film strip of pretences in the face for those who wished him well. Most smiles over the past year had been forced and hard to come by. Perhaps tonight’s sincere joy would allow for a genuine smile to finally grace his hardened face. He would only know as the night progressed.

The lights shone bright against stained canvas as his works were made ready to be put under scrutiny by all who gazed upon them. Donghae was nervous to say the least, and as he found himself standing before an expectant crowd. He beckoned for all his courage to gather so he could give his awaited speech.  Tonight was his big night, he couldn’t afford to spoil it and so it was with falsified confidence that he began his speech.

“Good Evening all” he began, clearing his throat of all nervousness before continuing. “My name is Lee Donghae and I must say that I am truly happy and blessed to have you all here tonight. I am- as some of you may know- quite new to the industry and to be standing in front of such a prestigious crowd is quite the honour.

I have worked strenuously to bring about such a vast collection in such a short space of time and so I must please ask you to view my works with utmost care and consideration. It is not only important to me that you fall in love with what you see, but it is also important that within this room tonight, we all view each work with unwavering respect.

To me as an artist, each work defines a part of who I am. This surely applies with all who have ever created, no? I believe that for each us; all which defines us lies within each of each brush used in creation. When I view art, I view it with utmost respect for those brave enough to put themselves on display. Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Kentridge, Victor, and all those who have deigned to make their mark on history; all are artists I respect. All are artist that I aspire to one day surpass.

I wish that tonight you would give me the same respect as you would them. Tonight I let you into my heart and permit you to view the depths of my soul. It is a delicate soul, I admit, and so I ask that you give it great consideration… and view it with care.

Thank you”
 

It was with applause that Donghae’s speech ended. The butterflies that filled his chest seemed to match the rhythm of their flapping wings with the vibrations that echoed through the room with each contact to each clapping hand. His nerves had been tangled into a knot and seemed to worsen as the exhibition commenced and he began to make his individual introductions to his guests.
 It was a long night, a tireless night, and Donghae found he was rather glad to find it come to its end. After hours of greeting familiar faces and presenting himself to new ones, Donghae wanted nothing more than to head home and seek comfort between his warm sheets. The night had been a success; he had received many invitations and requests along with cheques left at reception to accompany the praise for his exquisite work. His work was in demand, what more could he ask for?

The thought itself gave way to thoughts of all he missed that he should have had; the feel of his mother’s loving caress as she told him how proud she was of him; the impact of his father’s solid hand as he gave him a pat on the back; the sound of cameras flashing as his mother insisted they commemorate the moment with an everlasting photo. Donghae missed all of those things and much more. Worse yet, he had missed the feel of a sincere smile as he gleamed for all who looked upon him to see just how happy he truly was…

A year had passed since his joy had left him, and so Donghae had resigned himself to a life of pretences.

Donning a warm winter coat over his fancy suit, Donghae headed out of the gallery and on his way home. He lived a mere two blocks from the place; a convenience considering his dealings with the gallery of late. His home was his studio, goodness knew he had enough space to fit quite a number of works there with how empty the place was, and so his life was quite a simple life with little expense save for those of his supplies and sustenance. Donghae hadn’t much on his mind as he made the ten minute walk to his apartment block. He tried not to think much lately as thoughts only brought about memories and memories only brought about dreams. Rubbing his hands together he adjusted to the cold air around him. Winter was slowly creeping away and he found he was imagining all the colours that would set his mind a bloom once spring made her entrance.

As he walked, nearing his void home, Donghae was brought to a halt by a vision in the mist of the winter night. It was like a work of art had torn its way from the canvas on which it once lay and walked its way towards him, ever so smugly. As Donghae viewed the piece before him his eyes felt him worthy of their approval; an art form not coated in in acrylic, oil or watercolour. An art form stunning from the very depths of deep dark eyes that pierced him as they set themselves on him. Perhaps it was the way he widened his shoulders and embraced the cold night air. Perhaps it was the way he lifted his chin, looking straight into Donghae own eyes as he strode on by.  Donghae didn’t know. All he knew was the man that wound up colliding into him as they strode past each other that night looked like something out of a dream.

It was true that not all artworks lay on canvas, Donghae knew this much because the creator of all mankind had created the ‘him’; that master piece that dropped his glove as he walked away from where Donghae stood frozen on that cold winters night. After a night of naught else but pretence, Donghae couldn’t deny the realness of the beat that his heart skipped when he saw that embedded on the lip of the glove was a name. “Lee Hyukjae” the tag read.  It was a name that Donghae would never forget.

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Entry #396

It seems my dreams are haunting me again but… this time I’m not sure. I dreamt of the stranger I encountered on my way home from the exhibition last night. His back was turned to me and I so desperately wanted for him to face me. That masterpiece… I dreamt that he filled each canvas in my home studio. It was a strange dream… hurtful in a way because he refused to look at me. That back was so wide and full of rejection, just as my parent’s backs were when they walked away from me. I wish I hadn’t dreamed him at all…

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