Chapter 722 - Primordial (2/2)
Richard Wagner, Giuseppe Verdi, Jacques Offenbach, William Shakespeare and so on were all renowned figures with that all dabbled in Western opera. This was an answer that Gao Song had given after putting much thought into it.
Wu Hai replied, Giuseppe Verdi, and Western opera. How will a Chinese that does not know a word of the foreign language be able to enjoy Nabucco?”
Gao Song did not understand what Wu Hai was trying to say. But she was sure that he was trying to say something. Therefore, she did not rush to give him an answer. She started contemplating what he said.
“Personally, I have a very simple explanation for the perfect form of art. That should be an art all can understand, all can enjoy,” Wu Hai said.
Then, he continued, “Western opera, music, even fiction, were all fettered by the language used. With a different language, even through translation, one would not be able to see the true essence of the original creation.”
“Therefore, only dancing and painting can be considered as the perfect form of arts. A painting can express itself without words. The various classifications like oil painting, ink and wash painting, printmaking, and so on are not even required. In its purest form, during its conception, humanity started painting by drawing on the ground with branches, which gave birth to the many forms that we see today. But the most primordial form of paintings serves no other purpose than an expression of a person’s feeling. Anyone can see the entirety of the painting, the entirety of what the painter is trying to express.”
It was very rare for Wu Hai to be so serious when speaking. One had to admit that when he was putting on a serious expression like this, he looked very convincing. Many people, Gao Song included, sank into silence as they listened to Wu Hai.
“Dancing is also one such form of art. In the beginning, before the concept of dancing came into being, people would simply wave their hands and shake their body to express their mood, both in joy and sadness. Similar to painting, the skills or other meanings attached to dancing are not really necessary. At its purest form, dancing is a form of expression. The so-called origin of dancing that you know of, and everything you have been teaching, has in fact strayed from the essence of the act of dancing, a degradation.”
At this point, everyone came to a realization. It wasn’t that Wu Hai had finally learned to flirt. The only reason he had treated Gao Song to a drink was because he wanted to correct her.
“Serves him right to remain single forever. It is so hard for him to be able to get a beauty to drink with him yet he’s speaking like this,” Yuan Zhou berated, his heart hurting on Wu Hai’s behalf.
Wu Hai would only be stubborn on two things, eating and painting. The former would transform him into a shameless food robber, while the latter would transform him into what everyone was seeing now. In a way, Wu Hai had fallen in love with painting due to the lack of words in this medium. There would not be any barriers to anyone.
Gao Song was not a person that could be defeated so easily. Against Wu Hai’s retort, she took a sip at her juice and expressionlessly replied, “I agree that both painting and dancing are an expression of emotions. But I have to disagree that adding skill into the mix is a degradation. Look at it from another perspective. Raising the bar of the skill to perform this art, to create a standard for it, is that not progress?”
“For example, I would dance a Latin dance when I am happy, and when I am sad, I can still dance to sweat and vent my feelings. This gives different meanings to my dancing, but does that not increase the worth of the act of dancing?”
“Is the primordial form always the best? Is development always meaningless?” Gao Song countered with a question.
Wu Hai replied, “What is current might not be wrong and the primordial form might not be the best. But your skill in shifting the goalpost is comparable to your looks. Whether it is progress or degradation is beside the point. The point is what I told you, dancing and painting is the perfect form of art. By the way, you were wrong.”
Gao Song was not a person who would admit that she was wrong so easily. Therefore, she attempted to speak again. But before she could say anything, Wu Hai finished his watermelon juice and left.
One of the most miserable moments in a person’s life was one that person had many words to say yet the listener left before that person could speak. When Wu Hai lectured her previously, she was not angry. But now, Gao Song was truly furious. What in the world was he trying to say? What was wrong?
“Boss, refill,” Gao Song ordered another glass of juice to calm herself down.
Meanwhile, Yuan Zhou was gazing at Wu Hai’s departing back. How could he treat a beauty like this? He was too inconsiderate. Looking at the furious Gao Song, Yuan Zhou gently spoke, “According to this restaurant’s rules, no refills.”