Portrait of An Arrogant Master - Chapter 34
“Are you planning to have Miss Macy Horton win the competition?”
“I’m considering it.”
Rubens’ brow furrowed slightly.
“If she can paint in the same style, there’s no reason not to choose her.”
It was a relief that Ottilie didn’t seem to think that Macy had been painting Yannick’s works all along. However, Rubens was uncomfortable with the idea of Macy’s paintings winning the competition.
“It’s not just about being able to paint figures; it’s about painting them well.”
“A painter of this caliber wouldn’t struggle with figures—”
“They were terrible.”
Rubens responded coldly. He had no intention of letting Macy become famous.
“There’s a reason she doesn’t paint figures.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes. Moreover, Miss Macy Horton is a woman with no notable background. The other judges will strongly oppose her.”
“That’s true…”
The Imperial Academy of Fine Arts was filled with traditionalists. There had never been a precedent for a woman winning. Even if Ottilie could push through the gender barrier, everything else had to be flawless. If she couldn’t paint figures well, it would be impossible for her to win.
‘Yes, despite her talent, she’s still a woman.’
In Obelit, it was hard enough for an artist to gain recognition, and even harder for a female artist. That’s likely why she was stuck painting for others in the background.
Rubens thought that if he managed things from behind the scenes, he could prevent any issues he was concerned about.
‘As long as she’s under my control.’
Though he felt uneasy about going to such lengths, Rubens quickly dismissed his discomfort.
“I’m glad I asked for your opinion. I thought I had found a promising female artist…”
“There will be other opportunities.”
Ottilie’s voice was filled with regret. Rubens consoled her with appropriate words.
* * *
Macy arrived at a house on the outskirts of Laden. Hills had told her about a merchant interested in art, so she had brought some paintings to sell.
“Even someone like me who doesn’t know much about art can see these are beautiful. Getting them at this price is a steal!”
“They’ll really brighten up the drawing room!”
The man’s eyes widened as soon as he saw the painting. The woman beside him, presumably his wife, also responded enthusiastically. Macy stood with her hands awkwardly clasped.
“And you’re the sister of the famous Yannick Horton?”
“Ah, yes…”
“Indeed, talent runs in such a renowned family of artists!”
“……”
Having to use her brother’s name to fetch a higher price left Macy feeling bitter. It was her talent that earned the recognition, yet she had to lean on her brother’s reputation.
“Here, 100 grand.”
Ten coins fell into her hand. These paintings would fetch at least fifty times more if sold under Yannick Horton’s name. However, there were few buyers for paintings by an unknown female artist, and Macy needed the money.
“Thank you.”
It was a necessary choice. Macy forced a smile as she thanked them.
The money she collected was barely enough to cover basic necessities, let alone art supplies. She needed new clothes, shoes with intact soles, a hat to shield her from the sun, a cup, a pillow—she lacked so many things.
As a result, she often resorted to simple meals of bread or skipped eating altogether.
“Ugh, so heavy.”
Carrying several canvases around was too much for Macy. It wasn’t just because she was a woman but because she had spent so much time sitting and not doing physical work. Hiring a carriage to transport her paintings would have been convenient, but she couldn’t afford it.
So, she carried a few canvases herself, visiting galleries one by one. However…
“The brush strokes are too rough.”
“The painting lacks vibrancy.”
“Our gallery doesn’t display anything smaller than 15.”
“Did you really paint this? Are you sure you didn’t steal your brother’s work?”
“The style is too similar… What? You’re Yannick Horton’s sister? Would we display your painting or his if we had the choice? Obviously, his!”
The gallery owners and curators often mentioned Yannick, even without Macy bringing up his name, noting the similarity in style.
They acted as if Macy was just copying her brother’s work, and when she claimed they were similar because they were family, they questioned why they should bother displaying her paintings.
Their arguments made sense. A new artist whose style closely mimics that of a famous painter is seen merely as an imitator. Remarks about her brushstrokes being rough or her paintings lacking vibrancy were just excuses to reject her work.
Her skill hadn’t suddenly declined overnight; they simply wanted to turn her away.
If she admitted that she had been painting for Yannick, she could be hauled off to the police immediately, so she had to keep her mouth shut.
‘The timing is bad. I should have waited until rumors spread about Yannick falling into another slump.’
