The Versatile Master Artist

Chapter 111 - 88: Anna’s Trouble

"Professor Yajima, do you think Gu Weijing might be able to assist you, by gathering materials or running errands?"

Gu Tongxiang’s words were very tactful.

Having managed an art gallery for half his life in the chaotic times of Myanmar, the old man might not understand academics, but he certainly knew about human relationships.

Uncle Sakai’s original words were — with guidance, it’s not difficult to publish a good paper.

Yet, the old man still suggested having Gu Weijing assist Professor Yajima, rather than having Professor Yajima guide Gu Weijing.

The latter would be too greedy, knowing who should be primary and who should be secondary.

Gu Tongxiang was very clear about this in his heart.

A humanities academic paper could easily run into hundreds of thousands of words.

If a publisher were interested, many doctoral theses in the field of arts could be directly organized into a book for publication.

Although the topic of the mysterious nineteenth-century Impressionist female painter might be harder to find a painting for than to write a paper,

simplicity is also relative.

Even with an SSCI paper, Gu Weijing lacks the ability to complete it independently.

It’s not just a matter of the depth of the essay.

A humanities paper of this A&HCI caliber requires a standard format with professional expression and impeccable English phrasing.

Everyday English and academic English are two different concepts.

It’s somewhat similar to the feudal era imperial exams of Dongxia.

To publish in a top literary journal, the paper must have depth and be elegantly written, with refined phrasing.

If the wording is wrong, prominent reviewers may not even bother to look at it.

Let alone the fact that Gu Weijing is a high school student from Yangon, far removed from the avant-garde arts scene,

this requirement is beyond the reach of many professional professors.

Thus, those who publish an A&HCI paper in non-native English countries are fewer than those who publish top-tier scientific papers in "Nature" sub-journals, which focus more on experimental data.

If such a paper does come to fruition, the main credit and effort would definitely belong to Professor Yajima; Gu Weijing’s name might appear at the very end.

And don’t be upset,

if Professor Yajima is willing to let you add your name, you’re actually getting a tremendous advantage.

Switch to a less generous scholar, and upon hearing the secret of this painting, they’d have long kicked Gu Weijing aside to write the paper privately.

"This paper doesn’t need to be too long; this subject can’t be written at great length. It’s estimated to be at most a few thousand words, maybe even just one or two pages. Whether it gets published or not depends on luck."

Faced with the temptation of an A&HCI, Uncle Sakai hesitated for a moment.

He finally made up his mind, shaking his head: "Let Gu Weijing write it. I can provide guidance, with only one condition?"

"What condition?"

Struck by good fortune, Gu Tongxiang was thrilled.

At this time, even if Uncle Sakai wanted the painting itself,

as long as the paper is published,

the old man would be more than willing.

A few hundred thousand dollars is indeed a lot,

but it’s quite a bargain for an A&HCI that could sustain a lifetime.

A humanities paper doesn’t require the millions to billions of dollars needed for experiments in science and engineering papers, but even sixty thousand dollars in funding, let alone a hundred thousand dollars, can fund an A&HCI that top universities dream of.

Not to mention, the basic annual salary of a tenured professor at a prestigious school is at least tens of thousands of US dollars, which is negligible compared to research funding.

If this painting truly is an early nineteenth-century Impressionist work, its value should exceed sixty thousand dollars, but it’s generally capped at just several hundred thousand dollars.

Moreover, art auction prices are unpredictable.

Even Andy Warhol, who was popular for twenty years and Pop Art, has been fading in recent years, cooling off among collectors.

Exactly how much it will sell for,

who knows.

There’s nothing more tangible than a paper you can see and touch.

"Since this painting was discovered by a young person, let the young person write it, and let Shengzi be the second author. How does that sound, Elder Gu? Shengzi’s grasp of artistic trends and academic professionalism is excellent, quite capable of handling research materials and summarizing in writing."

Uncle Sakai pointed to his daughter.

"Me?"

Originally sitting cross-legged in front of the canvas, absorbed in studying the pigments, Koizumi Katsuko was surprised to hear her name mentioned.

"Shengzi, this is your opportunity."

Uncle Sakai patted his daughter’s head, his smile matched his round body, like a Santa Claus about to hand out gifts.

The reason he proposed publishing the paper was precisely for this goal — to give his daughter a chance to have her name on a major paper.

Although it is rare for minors to publish major papers, it happens every year.

The University of Tokyo, ranked as the top super university in Asia for years, had admissions interviews every year with those having three or four SCI papers; those who discovered a minor planet during a summer break at the Malaysian Observatory; those holding a Grade A Patent of the Japan Patent Office...

Many of these papers were written by parents working in the research industry, then having the kids’ names added.

Japan’s academic circles are highly closed-off; it’s overlooked by all.

Of course, there are also genuine prodigies.

For someone of Koizumi Katsuko’s age, as an art student having already won numerous awards, these papers bear a significant meaning.