From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

In her professional sphere, Nora subconsciously adopted a defensive stance. Even with her husband, even with her son, professionalism was paramount. Nora had her own principles and pride, instantly donning her cape and transforming into Wonder Woman.

Anson noticed this and quickly raised his hands in surrender. “Discussion, purely discussion.”

Nora slightly raised her chin, crossed her arms, and struck a 'tell me what you think' pose.

Anson cleared his throat. “Ah, what’s with suddenly entering professor-classroom spot-check mode?” he said, teasingly.

Nora obligingly pushed up non-existent glasses, patiently awaiting his explanation.

Anson: “I understand your concept—starting with the changes in urban space, presenting the story's development and progression in chronological order to the public, while also clearly organizing the development and evolution of this art form. This can help newcomers quickly understand and enter this space.”

“But Mom, do you know the screenplay formula for Hollywood genre movies?”

“Within the opening three or five minutes, throw out a crisis or conflict. In the process of the protagonist resolving it, you not only grab the audience's attention but also showcase the protagonist's personality and foreshadow future events.”

“The key is to increase appeal.”

Nora slightly furrowed her brows. “Are you suggesting we should compromise with commercialism? Although the fundamental purpose of planning an art exhibition is still commercial operation, such a blatant approach might not be effective in an art exhibition.”

Anson shook his head. “If it were the Upper West Side, those elite classes pride themselves on being cultured people, putting on airs and being patient. Even if the art exhibition is boring, they can't reveal their own superficiality. The planning shouldn't be too shallow or too direct.”

“But in the East Village, there are no such pretenses here. If they don't like it, they just don't like it. If you don't throw out the big guns at the beginning, they won't buy it.”

Art?

Anson and Nora were actually discussing art!

Carol knew she shouldn't be surprised. If Nora was Anson's mother, it meant Anson should have been influenced by art from a young age, and naturally, he should have some artistic attainments. Moreover, they were currently in an art gallery, so it was normal for the discussion to revolve around art.

However, Carol still couldn't control herself; her mind was filled with surging thoughts.

With a turn, two colleagues immediately surrounded Carol with gossipy faces. Carol had just handed over the soda water and hot milk and was about to put the tray down when she was dragged aside, and they began to discuss in hushed tones.

Then, one of the male colleagues with a strange goatee paused. “Okay, now can someone tell me, who is he?”

“Do I need to know him?”

“Oh, God, what era do you live in, the Jurassic?”

“A man in his thirties, I have no interest in those pretty-boy idols.”

As soon as the words came out, the two women said in unison, “He's not a pretty boy.”

The man looked at the two women with a surprised expression, like a startled rabbit. “See, this is the situation I wanted to avoid.”

The next second, the three people simultaneously shut their mouths, looking at Nora and Anson with horrified expressions, fearing to disturb them.

Fortunately, they were still focused.

Nora was carefully pondering Anson's words.

Honestly, Nora had to admit that she didn't like others interfering with her work; she had her own expertise. But this time, the planning had indeed encountered some challenges, and plus, the one offering suggestions was her younger son. Those plain and rational words seemed to be less unacceptable.

Nora thought for a moment. “Are you suggesting that we should select a highlight from the last part of the art exhibition and put it at the very beginning?”

Anson shook his head. “No, if we do that, it would be like spoiling the climax in advance. People would be shocked outside, raising expectations, and then find that it's far below expectations, which might lead them to curse the art exhibition and even affect the overall evaluation.”

“We should select a distinctive and impactful work from the middle to the later stages, like bait, and put it at the very beginning.”

“Through it, we can show the relationship between people and the city, which to some extent is also the core value of this art exhibition. But skipping those preliminaries, we can grab the attention of passersby at the door in a direct and impactful way, awaken their resonance, and make them interested in this art exhibition.”

Nora nodded. “We can do that. Do you have any suggestions?”

Anson's footsteps stopped in front of a painting.

Nora followed Anson's gaze. This was a special work:

Using bright colors to construct a steel forest, colorful and dazzling, with a clear pop art style; however, in the center of the forest, there was a small gray figure, lost in direction.

Without a doubt, this was a visually impactful work, using colors to present the hustle and bustle of a modern city; but only by careful observation could one notice the gray figure almost submerged by the colors, and then by observing carefully again, one could see gray figures in the shadows of endless colors, like those elves hidden in the grass in 'My Neighbor Totoro,' only discoverable by those who are attentive.

Color, stealing all sight and hearing.

Although the work was still not mature enough, one could feel the impact.

“An interesting choice.” Nora revealed a hint of appreciation.

Anson admired it carefully. “I like the sense of line within the colors. So, how much does this painting cost?”

Nora looked surprised.

Anson: “Hey, my apartment in New York is missing a painting. At least I can support my mother's work with practical actions.”

Nora smiled. “I don't seem to have a reason to refuse. This painting is by a young creator, a newcomer who hasn't made a name for himself yet. This painting is priced at five thousand dollars.”

Anson's eyebrow raised slightly. “So low?”

Nora: “That might be half a year's rent for him.”

Anson glanced at the creator's name, “Sebastian - Orsino,” indeed, a young artist he had never heard of.

“This name.” The smile on Anson's lips lifted. “A Shakespeare enthusiast?”

Sebastian, Orsino, these names all came from William Shakespeare's early work 'Twelfth Night.' Anyone with a discerning eye would know this was a stage name.

Nora shrugged. “Shakespeare may be very important in the film and theater fields, but in the field of painting, sorry, son, I don't think his name carries enough weight.”

Anson chuckled. “Maybe that's why he hasn't gotten much attention; people don't even know the meaning behind the name.”

Nora: “I'm glad he at least didn't come up with a name like Banksy.”

Anson didn't hide his surprise. “Oh, Mom, you know Banksy too?”

Nora let out a soft breath. “His artwork isn't my field, but I went to London to plan this art exhibition, and I admired his first formal exhibition.”