Have you ever slled death?
Im not talking about the foul stench of decaying flesh.
Those with family to care for them dont usually emit such odors, as their bodies are frequently cleansed.
However, death has a sll. It's an unfamiliar scent you can't perceive under normal circumstances.
I know this sll because I witnessed my grandmother's last monts.
I was very young at the ti.
The unfamiliar scent emanating from my grandmother, who lay in her deathbed, as opposed to her usual comforting sll, has long stayed in my mory.
Of course, this might be a kind of hallucinatory olfactory symptom because I know that Alphonse Mucha is going to die tomorrow. I approached him slowly.
His face, much thinner than a few days ago.
His cheekbones protruded, his lips dried and turned white. His eyes were open, but the color of his pupils had discolored.
As Mucha, breathing like a growling beast, saw approaching, he moved his parched lips and said,
"Who... are you?"
"..."
He cant see.
I clenched my fist as I watched the death of a figure I respected.
"It's , teacher."
"..."
Though Mucha couldnt see, his eyes seed to flutter as if they could. He seed to try to sit up, but it was impossible.
"I'm... sorry. I am not well."
"It's okay, teacher. Just lie down."
Following his direction, I pulled a chair over to the bed, sat down, and held his hand. His hand was very cold. Silently, I watched Muchas face, trying to see sothing invisible with his wide-open eyes.
What comfort could I offer at this mont?
The Bible he always read lay beside the bed.
Was he praying at this mont?
If so, what prayer would he be offering?
Then, Mucha opened his mouth.
"Looking back, I was truly a talentless person."
Who would dare say you have no talent?
Of course, I understand why he would say that.
In Alphonse Mucha's ti, there were many remarkable people.
He lived in an era filled with geniuses, with many painters who opened the Art Nouveau period born in the sa era as him.
The painting of Jesus he drew at the age of eight is extraordinary, but Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec's painting at the age of five was even more remarkable.
He lived during a ti when many geniuses erged.
I held his hand tightly and said,
"You were a painter of genius talent, I can vouch for that."
Who am I to vouch?
I am hardly soone to guarantee such a thing, but this was my way of comforting him.
Alphonse Mucha still opened his mouth, staring into space and continued.
"I was rejected in just five minutes at the interview for the Academy of Fine Arts in Prague. The interviewer said to , 'There are countless people who can draw well, and the market's money is limited. You should choose a job that makes more money.'"
I knew the story. But the talent I see in this man is not rely in his artistic skill.
"But teacher. Regardless of how others judged you, you earnestly pursued what you loved until the end. That sincerity was your most shining talent."
A slight strength returned to his hand.
Perhaps it was the response he wanted to hear.
"Thank you."
"You're welco, teacher."
Mucha released my hand and clasped his own. Noticing that he was about to pray, I quietly observed.
His rough, unpolished voice filled the room.
An autumn day.
Lord, the ti has co.
The past sumr was truly great.
Place your shadow on the sundial
And release the wind in the fields.
Command the last fruits to ripen;
Grant two more southern days,
Rushing the completion of the fruits,
And letting the final sweetness seep into the strong wine.
Those without a ho will not build now.
Those alone will remain so,
Awake, reading books, writing long letters,
And wandering restlessly among the rustling leaves.
He was praying, but in reality, it wasnt a prayer. It was a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke, a native of Prague.
A prayer befitting of him, whose works are always considered poetic.
"Do you have a religion?"
Mucha, with his hands together, said,
For , the concepts of painting, going to church, and music are so intricately connected that I cannot tell if I love churches for their music or if it's the mystical nature of churches that makes love music.
I smiled slightly.
Many might not know, but ironically, this painter who made history had dreamt of becoming a singer as a child. His dream ended when he joined a church choir and his voice changed during puberty.
You seem to have a fondness for poetry.
Poetry is... it's because it's both concise and symbolic.
Why do they say Mucha's paintings are poetic?
In his works, even a single leaf is not just a leaf; it symbolizes sothing and carries a taphorical aning. When he depicted laurel leaves, in one work, they symbolized victory in the Olympics; in the "Waverley Cycles" poster, they symbolized fa; and in another, they recalled the ancient Roman custom of crowning great poets with laurel wreaths, imbuing them with poetic inspiration or prophetic aning.
He was a great painter who used the sa elents to convey different symbolic anings in his various works.
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