Monica showed the back of the box. Though the words were too far to read, Monica pointed to a section with some description and said,
"This product, as long as it's connected to Wi-Fi, allows you to view paintings from anywhere. We've disabled TV broadcasting and internet-based OTT programs to reduce weight. Only paintings and some music are displayed. As I mentioned earlier, it's very lightweight. The 30-inch monitor is about the weight of a portable tablet."
Monica made a gesture as if hammering a nail and added,
"That means it's very easy to hang on the wall."
Irina still looked confused. Monica, observing her expression, operated the remote control.
Then, the painting slowly rotated and disappeared, and from the center, another painting emerged through an expanding circle of colors. As Irina looked at the remote control with wide eyes, Monica showed her the button and smiled.
"Users can change the picture to their liking by pressing the remote. You can set a timer for 1 minute, or 10 minutes, even an hour, to switch to different pictures."
Irina then shows interest.
"Does it show paintings that haven't been stored separately?"
Monica nods her head.
"MG Electronics owns a telecommunications company as well. Just install a simple app and pay a monthly fee of 2,900 won, and you can enjoy over 100,000 masterpieces. You can choose paintings to your taste, or let the AI, which considers the user's preferences through big data, automatically set them for you."
With just this, your home becomes a gallery.
No need to buy expensive paintings or carry them around when moving. Just this one thing would change the quality of the living room interior.
Irina smiles, finally understanding Monica's words.
"As always, Monica knows exactly what's profitable and acts accordingly."
"Thank you for the compliment."
Monica bows her head slightly and smiles a bit sheepishly.
"Actually, I came to see Jeong-hoon's painting, that's just an excuse."
"Ha ha."
Irina's gaze turns to Jeong-hoon.
"What did you paint?"
Jeong-hoon, still slightly flushed from having an electronic product named after him, hesitates before speaking.
"I was commissioned to paint Chopin."
Right.
He had been asked to paint Chopin.
Not just his portrait, but like Klimt's Beethoven Frieze, to capture his music in the painting.
What kind of painting would it be?
Imagine.
Chopin, the poet of the piano.
If he had created a digital media art piece, did he paint a series of Chopin's life, filled with loneliness, solitude, meticulousness, and delicacy? What would it feel like to play piano beside a painting of Chopin performing in a small salon?
Irina feels excited, but calmly prepares to appreciate the painting, moving to sit next to Jeong-hoon.
Then Jeong-hoon stops her.
"Your place is not here."
"Really?"
"Over there."
Jeong-hoon points. There is her piano.
Is he saying that the pianist's place is naturally in front of the piano? Or to sit where the painting is best viewed?
'Monica said Jeong-hoon wants the person who views his painting to be me, not the audience.'
It must mean to go to the best viewing spot.
Irina hesitates for a moment, then slowly climbs onto the stage and sits in front of the piano, looking at Jeong-hoon.
Jeong-hoon, holding the remote control, says,
"Please perform F. Chopin, Nocturne No.13 in C minor, Irina."
Irina's eyebrows twitch.
It's rude to casually ask a pianist to play. Especially if the other person is a professional. It's like asking a singer to sing or an actor to perform on the spot.
Irina looks around the stage again.
Right, this is a stage. It's not a rude request to play anywhere.
Besides, she came to practice anyway.
There are three unexpected audience members, but soon she'll be performing in front of thousands, so it doesn't matter.
Quietly, she opens the piano lid and places her hands on the keys.
As she raises her arms to start playing, Jeong-hoon operates the remote control.
Irina, who usually plays with her eyes closed and not looking at the keys, glances at the monitor as the image changes according to Jeong-hoon's operation. She guesses that it might start with a painting of Chopin's childhood.
But the painting on the monitor completely shatters her expectations.
"A tree?"
A single tree stands in the rain.
A lone tree, standing high and alone, bravely holds itself against the falling rain.
Irina, having already started her playing motion, keeps her eyes on the painting, performing a quiet and beautiful piece. Expecting the painting to change soon, she stares intently at it until her hands suddenly stop.
The music, which had been spreading like waves from the stage, suddenly halts, creating a silence more profound than before the performance began.
Irina's long eyes flutter.
She frowns and tilts her head while looking at the painting.
After glancing at the keyboard and then back at the painting, Irina signals Jeong-hoon with her finger.
"Sorry, let's start from the beginning."
Jeong-hoon silently operates the remote, pulling the screen forward. As Irina takes a deep breath and raises her hands again, Jeong-hoon presses the play button in time.
Once more, rain falls on the tree in the still image.
About twenty bars in, the performance stops again.
Irina, her face flushed, signals again with her finger.
"From the beginning, please."
Jeong-hoon manipulates the remote, and the performance restarts. Again, the playing stops, and Irina's voice is heard.
"Again!"
It takes nearly an hour for Irina to complete the piece.
Perfectly pressing the last note, Irina trembles as she feels the reverberation of the sound.
Her head is raised to the sky, her eyes tightly closed.
Jeong-hoon, watching her, smiles at the sight.
Jeong-hoon softly clapped and said in a low voice,
"Your performance was perfect, Irina. Your performance in Berlin was filled with such perfection and inner delicacy."
Snapped out of her reverie by Jeong-hoon's words, Irina still gazing upwards, smiles brightly.
Tears glistened in her long, beautiful eyes.
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