#theartofsecondchances

Are you still coming?

You were looking down at the kakaotalk chat log with a string of messages between you and your good friend Jiwon. Only the last few messages have gone unread and not responded to. Jiwon, had messaged you earlier in the week wanting to catch up since life had been busy for the two of you; you being a language teacher and she being an assistant educator on art in galleries. Ironic, and she wasn’t here and you two were supposed to meet 15 minutes ago. Jiwon suggested the two of you meet at the gallery she worked at and view the art show of a local artist that was very popular at the moment. Of course you agreed because she was a really good friend; one of the first friends you made when you first came to Seoul 2 months ago. She pulled you into her circle, showed you many favorite spots around the city - many cafes and shops. 

The gallery showing had already started and you really didn’t want to walk in alone, but standing outside on the sidewalk made you feel just as or even more ridiculous. At least 10 people had walked past you to go inside - now another 3 trailed along, sparing you a glance as they continued on. You thought, then look back down at your messages between Jiwon. Now irritated that she ghosted you on short notice.

[Monday 3:45pm]

Hey! Its been awhile lets meet up

It has. It’s good to hear from you. When do you want to meet?

There's this art show at the gallery I work at. 

Popular rising artist at the moment displaying his work on friday. 

Let's meet there at 7pm, the show starts at 7:30pm :) 

Oh? An art show?

I know you don't really enjoy art as much as I do but I swear this artist is gooood

It’ll be fun!

Ok….Lets do it

[Friday 12:00pm]

Hey! Are we still on for tonight?

Yeah. What's the dress code?

Mm just wear something nice. No need to go over the top.

Got it, something nice, not over the top

[ Today 7:00pm]

Hey Jiwon Im here. Let me know when you get here

[Today 7:45pm]

Are you still coming?

Still nothing from Jiwon. You stare at your phone until the screen dimmed. No reply, no explanations, not even an apology. She totally ghosted you. Just you and the glow of the gallery light spilling onto the sidewalk. Now you really looked stupid waiting outside the gallery for someone that was not going to show up. You shouldn't have come anyway, you don’t like art galleries and you don’t understand art, except that people who are really good at it make amazing things. You probably won’t go in, what fun - if you can call it - would it be to look at art by yourself, this was supposed to be a catch up between friends. But you have the digital ticket for the showing on your phone, the one you paid for with the link Jiwon sent you to buy your ticket. It would be a waste of money to not go….you try to use money sparingly so you can live comfortably while you're here.

Nope…not going in, turn around and walk the three blocks to the station and travel back to the apartment. Enjoy your much needed time off and forget about the disappointment you felt in the moment and watch the current k drama you've been bingeing.

Looking up at the building, you could see a glimpse inside since the doors were opened. A very welcoming atmosphere that basically gives you the invitation to step right in. The lighting is bright enough to light the space but low enough to not be over-bearing. Sighing, you turn to face the building, contemplating on the probability of things going smoothing or to complete utter shit and you make a foul of yourself. It was about a 75/25 shot.

Fuck it, im going in.

One foot in front of the other you made your way towards the door, you ended up behind a couple also walking in. They show their tickets before proceeding further. You do the same before walking further into the building.

Everything looks so….classy.. From the guests who were dressed like they oozed money with their fancy clothing and designer purses. Real art enthusiast; and then there was you, in your nicest pair of blue jeans, and a sweater top you don't wear often. You felt very under dressed to be here; Jiwon should have warned you but never mind that.

You browse around, looking at the different pieces ranging from big to small. From paint ,to what looked like the art drawn with pencil - maybe a fancy type. The pieces ranged from flowers, subjects, portraits, but mostly scenery. They weren't exactly neat - that wasn’t a good way to put it - they weren't precise and organized. The artist when creating these made it look like they blended whatever colors that they had with no plan and turned it into something. Something you even couldn't do because you would over think it and freak yourself out from ever creating something at all, leaving you wondering why you would even try in the first place.

There were some pieces that had neater lines, lines with purpose like the artist took time with them - the artist probably did spend quite some time painting all of these.

You let your eyes bounce from one piece to another, strolling and not going any faster or slower. You turn into this one room with one way in and out but spacious. There weren't as many art pieces in this one but you could tell that the pieces that were on the wall, were hand picked and purposely placed with a couple. You scan at a piece, this one a portrait of who? You didn’t know and could never guess. The place where the eyes should be wasn’t clear and in detail. You could point out the eye lids and the sockets where the eyes should be. The person had something in their hand; a cigar? Perhaps a cigarette? Probably a cigarette.

You move on to the next piece, another piece focused on one of the eyes. More detailed than the last and you could see the iris and the dot of highlight as if there was light reflected on it. There were two more portraits, one of a partial face, mainly focused in the eye - again. This artist must have a thing for flowers and eye details. The second piece made you stop in your tracks. This one was different from the others. Full face, clear picture and full expression. The expression was so…haunting but oddly comforting.

You stand in front of it, staring at it, really looking at the detail and the colors, but that damn expression….

“You’ve been staring at that for a while,” A voice said beside you, half startling you. You look to your left to see a man in baggy jeans, a white t-shirt, brown leather jacket and a ball cap sitting atop his head. It was like he wanted to go unnoticed, which was half true since she hadn’t noticed him until he said something to her. “What do you think this piece is afraid of?” he asks.

“Um…I’m not entirely sure,” You mumble, hesitant to talk to this stranger beside you. “I don’t see fear.” You turn to focus your attention on the piece. The stranger kept his gaze on you, head tilting, studying your side profile. His hand rubbed against his chin, you notice as you watch him in your peripheral vision. 

He looks back at the painting. “What do you see then?” His eyes went back to the side of your face.

Your eyes stay trained on the painting. Studying it further though you didn’t really need to since you spent a while looking at it already. “Like…the person has trapped emotions deep down. While everything continues to move around and go on, this person has an overwhelming amount of emotion trapped on the inside. Almost like the person can’t hold it together much longer before they explode,” She surprised herself but never showed it. There was some truth in those words in herself.

He hums in agreement, seeing it differently and from the concept of what you were looking at. It’s been a while since he’s heard someone’s honest thoughts of art. And you seemed curious about the painting which surprised him. Normally critics and casual art viewers liked his abstract work. He was tempted to ask if you liked the piece, but that would lead to questions he did not want to answer and him facing the reality that you were describing him. “That’s very observant,” he voices after a long moment - you almost forgot he was next to you. That was if you weren’t hyperaware of your surroundings…most of the time. He looks back at the painting, studying it once more. Maybe there was something else hidden within its depths that he hadn't noticed before. “Do you paint?”

You look at him, shocked and shake your head quickly “Nooo definitely not. Not one single creative bone in my body and I know nothing about it.”

He chuckled softly at your strong reaction, and shook his head. There was no way. He didn’t believe you for a second. A person that read a painting like that had to have some sort of artistic talent hidden away somewhere. “I find that hard to believe,” he says with a small smile. He taps his fingers against his thigh thoughtfully. “You seem to have a good eye for detail.”

“Trust me, I don’t paint or draw, let alone be able to conjure up a thing in my brain to create something. I’m just very observant.” You correct, though why would he know that he was totally wrong?

He hums thoughtfully, not fully convinced. He glances back at the painting, his mind already working out how he could capture the emotion of your words. “Well maybe you should try sometime,” He suggests with a small shrug; maybe his encouragement will give you a boost to try. 

He suddenly pulls out a sketch book from a bag you never noticed, it was on his other side which you couldn’t see very well. He opened it up to a half finished sketch, similar to the subject matter of the piece in front of the two of you. He adds a few strokes. Taking inspiration from your words and trying to capture the pent-up emotion ready to bust free as you had described it. You stare at his sketch book with amazement. How good the sketch had looked before and how quickly he turned it into something new.

“It can be therapeutic,” he murmurs more to himself. Your eyes flicker up to him as he murmurs. He looks up at you too, offering a small smile as your eyes meet. “Sorry for interrupting your viewing experience. I’ll leave you to it.” 

“No, it’s fine. I do have a question though. Are you a fan of the artist?”

“Ah well…” He hesitates, unsure of how much he wanted to reveal. He has always been a private person, preferring to keep his personal life separate from his professional one. But then there was you. You intrigued him, there was something about you that made him teeter on the edge of telling you. “You could say that, “ He settles, giving you a small, shy smile. He closes his sketch book, tucking it under his arm since there was no longer a use for it at the moment. “I’ve followed their work for a while now. They have a unique style that really speaks to me.”

Her eyes widened, not expecting his words though she should have put the pieces together since they were talking about this one piece of work. “Really? Huh. Yeah they definitely have a unique style almost like its second nature of them,” She says. “Sounds like you’re an art junkie or something. Whatever they call it. I have a friend who’s the same. She used to date an artist who got her really into art, so she admires it a lot," You begin to ramble to the stranger, telling more than you probably should. “Though I think she tries to find his style in any art she looks at,” You don't even realize it, but when you do, it was too late, you already said too much. “Eh…Sorry for rambling. I have a bad habit of doing that so my friends say”

“No need to apologize,” He assures you with a soft chuckle. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. He's never been great at talking to new people, especially not ones as pretty as you. “I guess you could say I'm an art junkie,” he admits with a sheepish grin. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. “I've always been fascinated by the way artists can convey emotion through their work. It's like they're speaking a language that only certain people can understand.”

“Certain people not being me,” You joke and let out a self-deprecating laugh, “Must be nice I guess,” You rock back on your feet, trying not to look at him too much; afraid you might say something stupid to embarrass yourself. You do it often. But this man was…beautiful. His beauty rare but, you know he turns heads. “I overheard some people say that the artist doesn’t show up to his art viewings, which I think is weird because wouldn’t you want to be there to show off your work? Like this,” Gesturing to the painting in front of you two. “Like what the fuck, this painting just called me basic in so many ways - oh sorry,” You cringe. “didn’t mean to cuss.”

He chuckled. Your honesty was refreshing. Most people he meets put on an act, trying to impress him with their knowledge of art or their connections with the industry. But you…you were genuine and he found that really appealing. 

“No worries,” he says with a reassuring smile before stepping closer to you and lowering his voice. “Between you and me, I think the artist is probably just shy. Or they're worried people won't like their work if they know who they are.”

“Shy I can see, but people not liking their work? Yeah right. This dude - can’t remember the name my friend told me - is pretty well known,” You cast a glance at him as you continued to reason. “Everyone talks about his stuff and how different he is compared to others in the same field. Maybe he just has a big ego.” You shrug. “He doesn’t show up because he would steal the show from his own work,”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as if you were wrong. You were; totally off but of course you wouldn’t know that was wrong in this regard. He's far from having a big ego, if anything, he’s constantly doubting himself and his abilities. If only you really knew.

“I don’t think that's it,”

“Oh? Really?” She counters.

He hums. “I think they’re just….private. They pour so much of themselves into their work, it must be scary to put it out there for everyone to judge,”

You hadn’t thought of it that way, but you were still pretty sold on the big ego part. “You could be right - probably are. You know more that I do given that you're a fan of this dude’s work. But…if it was scary for him he wouldn’t have put his work out there,” His eyes were already on you when you looked up at him, unnerving at first but you kept talking. “There’s some part of him that wants to get this out and show the world rather than keep it to himself.”

The man next to you nods, slowly considering your words. You had a point he supposes. There is a part of him that wants his work to be seen, shared and to connect with others through his art. But there’s the small part of him that's terrified of being unvaluable, and still opening himself up to criticism and rejection. He should be used to it because his art is not likable to everyone. He’s seen people comment on his work, not liking it, not understanding it, calling it boring or even comparing it to a small child's art work sometimes.

“Maybe you're right,” he conceded with a small sigh. “But sometimes, putting yourself out there is harder than keeping it all bottled up inside.”

“Mmm I don’t know. For me it’s harder to keep things bottled up so I blurt out what I have to say” You wanted to add that you put yourself out there to be liked. But your honesty and chatty nature tends to make people take a step back.

He smiles softly at you, appreciating your honesty. Hyunjin wishes he could be more like you, more open and carefree. You wished you could be care free but your chatty nature and honesty still came with anxiety and room for self damage. Hyunjin, he’s always been a reserved person, preferring to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself. 

“Must be liberating,” He muses, his gaze drifting back to the painting. He begins to wonder what it would be like to live without fear of judgment, to express himself freely without worrying what others might think. “I envy that about you,” He admits quietly, almost to himself. He looks back at you, his eyes meeting yours briefly before glancing away, suddenly feeling shy.

“Oh, um, thanks,” you stammer, feeling uncharacteristically flustered. You fidget with the hem of your shirt, suddenly aware after all this time you two have spent talking, how close you all were standing. “I guess…I’ve always been told I talk too much, so I figured I might as well embrace it. It has its ups and downs”

Your answer made him laugh softly, the sound warm and genuine. He likes how you don’t take yourself too seriously, you own up to your quirks and flaws. “Talking too much isn’t a bad thing,” he reassures you gently. “It’s refreshing to a person. Like myself who is usually reserved to meet someone who isn’t afraid to say what they think,” He thinks about his friend Seungmin, he never fails to tell Hunjin how he felt about something he did or presented. 

“Please tell my parents that, they would happily debate you on that,” You both chuckle at that. 

Hyunjin takes a step back, giving you space, but not enough to break the connection, the conversation between the two of you. There was a moment of silence. Not an awkward one, not so comfortable but calming.

 “Do you think the artist would care what you think about this?” He suddenly asks you.

You take a moment to answer “Mm maybe. I don’t think the artist would expect anyone to care this much or at least understand it in a way”

At your answer his mouth opens slightly, ready to tell you something just as off handish. He could say it, he could tell you, the truth is right there. But if he did, this moment would change and never be the way it is now again. He could tell you but if he did now, your answers would change. Your words would not have the honesty he's been feeding off of; you’d be more polite, more careful. He could tell you but this is the most purest and honest reaction he’ll probably ever get from a person who doesn’t know him, who doesn’t know his work. But if he did tell you, you wouldn’t know him. You would only know the artist. If he tells you now, this moment would end and he didn’t want it to just yet.

So he just hums low, no longer looking at the painting, he hadn’t for a while now. His gaze on you as he listened to your thoughts. “I think they'd be grateful that you stayed,” Not I, they.

You look at him with wide eyes and curiosity. Tilting your head slightly, a small smile grew on your lips, “Grateful that I stayed? That’s…a nice thing to say,” You paused, biting your lower lip as you then considered your next words to the stranger. “But I have to wonder…why would the artist care? I mean we’re just two random people standing in front of their painting. It’s not like our opinion really matters in the grand scheme of things, right?” When you really think about it, you feel a connection with the painting. Yes the person in the portrait was scared, keeping things inside. The totally opposite of you but…the anxiety and fearfulness settled in you in different ways, but the emotions conveyed resonated with something deep inside your soul. “Although….I guess everybody wants to feel seen and understood, don’t they?"

Hyunjin’s eyes sparkle with intrigue as he listens to your words. He was impressed and captivated with your insightfulness, the way you seem to understand the artist's perspective without evening knowing them personally. 

“You’re right,” He agrees softly, his voice low enough for only you to hear. He reaches out, his fingers hovering inches from the canvas; close but not on the canvas. It's a subtle gesture, but one filled with meaning. “Every artist wants to feel seen and understood. It’s…it’s the whole reason we create, isn’t it? To connect with others, to share a piece of ourselves that we hope will resonate with someone. Somewhere,” He pauses collecting his thoughts before continuing. “And yes, maybe we’re just two random people standing, but I think…I think that’s exactly why our opinions matter.”

Hyunjin’s hand lingers near the painting, but he doesn’t touch it like you thought he would. You're not sure if he’s technically allowed to touch it if he did end up doing that. Instead he takes a step back, putting some distance between himself and the painting and with you too. He glances at his watch. “It was nice meeting you. Talking to you has been…enlightneing.”

“Yeah…same for you too,” You say back. He offered you a small, sad smile, one that hints at the depth of emotions beneath his calm exterior.