Chapter 30: Regardless, I Look Forward to a Good Piece, Young and Foolish Artist
Taebaeksan Snow Festival & International Snow Sculpture Competition.
The preparations for the event, hosted by Taebaek City and the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism and organized by the Korean Sculptors Association, were nearing their final stages.
“Excavator ahjussi! Not there, a little more to the left! Whoa, whoa, whoa? Be careful not to collapse the snow there!!”
Despite having been held nearly 27 times, the Taebaeksan Snow Festival had devolved into a massive headache, failing to generate significant tourism effects relative to its budget.
It had become a symbolic event for Taebaek City, held annually by sheer obligation, but due to a lack of compelling content and viable alternatives, it was often forced forward through sheer stubbornness.
This time, however, Secretary General Kim Junghwan’s proposal had garnered massive acclaim and support from Taebaek City’s Tourism and Culture Department and the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism, securing an unprecedented budget of 3.5 billion won—triple the previous operating budget.
The core of Kim Junghwan’s persuasion was simple yet crystalline.
“We will surpass the stronghold of the world’s top three snow festivals: the Sapporo Snow Festival in Japan, the Quebec Winter Carnival in Canada, and the Harbin Ice Festival! Does our nation’s snowy landscape fall short compared to theirs? I don’t believe so. Shouldn’t our country have at least one world-renowned winter festival? Am I wrong!?”
Perhaps swayed by Kim Junghwan’s sincere persuasion and impenetrable proposal, the prevailing sentiment among the internal stakeholders was that this year’s Taebaeksan Snow Festival was genuinely worth anticipating.
First and foremost, this Taebaeksan Snow Festival boasted over 50,000 ice sculptures and 150 snow and ice installations constructed across a sprawling 80,000-pyeong site.
While it might still feel slightly lacking compared to the scale of global competitions, it was the largest snow festival ever held domestically.
Furthermore, unlike previous years, the event was packed with a rich variety of attractions and activities.
Kicking off with the opening ceremony, a vibrant array of events was scheduled, including a winter swimming competition, a concert, snow sledding, ice skating, an ice photography exhibition, a laser show, an ice lantern festival, and fireworks.
However, undeniably, the main event was the International Snow Sculpture Competition.
Spanning three days, this iteration of the International Snow Sculpture Competition featured 25 teams from approximately 11 countries.
The caliber and pride of the participants were sky-high, with most boasting award-winning pedigrees in their respective national sculpture competitions. Among them stood formidable powerhouse teams consistently touted as championship contenders in every competition they entered.
These included Professor Kaijun’s team from the Sculpture Department of Lu Xun Academy of Fine Arts—one of China’s top three art academies; the Ulziibatar team from Mongolia, the reigning champions of last year’s Harbin Ice Sculpture Competition; and Professor Ilya’s team from Russia’s Repin Academy, a nation inherently intimate with snow.
And then there was the Maria team from the Royal College of Art (RCA), considered overwhelming favorites for the championship.
With so many powerhouse teams participating, any of which could claim the championship without it seeming out of place, the Taebaeksan International Snow Sculpture Competition was garnering far more attention than anticipated.
Of course, the revelation that Kyuha, an active actor, was participating in this snow sculpture competition had become a massive spectacle among the general public, serving as phenomenal promotion for the festival. Yet, murmurs of discontent frequently surfaced from a certain faction, questioning what business an actor had intruding upon a sacred festival of artists.
However, similar precedents weren’t entirely nonexistent. In the past, actress Lee Young-a had been cast as a female boxer in an independent film. She had trained like her life depended on it for months, only for the film to fall through.
Yet, through that grueling training, Lee Young-a discovered a genuine passion for boxing. Starting with amateur tournaments, she eventually competed in and won at the National Sports Festival, ultimately rising to the ranks of the national boxing team.
At that time, following Lee Young-a’s ascension to the national team, official statistics showed the boxing population increased by nearly 10%, breathing life into the stagnant Korean boxing scene.
Hoping for a similar ripple effect, the event organizers were simply praying the festival would generate an even larger buzz, as maximizing promotion was their absolute top priority.
Finally, the long-awaited first day of the Taebaeksan Snow Festival’s International Snow Sculpture Competition arrived.
“Hmm… So this is Mount Taebaek? For a small country in the East, the snowy landscape isn’t half bad.”
Dressed in a thick winter parka, Maria from the Royal College of Art (RCA) removed her sunglasses and shared her initial impressions of Taebaek.
Though she spoke with an air of arrogant detachment, her eyes sparkled as she scanned her surroundings, evidently quite pleased with Mount Taebaek.
“Maria. I actually love this place called Taebaek! The people are incredibly kind, and the food is delicious.”
Squatting down and patting the snow, Victoria, a first-year student and member of Maria’s team, chimed in.
“Hmph. Even so, it is nothing more than a country that doesn’t even know the first thing about art.”
Truthfully, Maria had fallen head over heels for Korean food, but her stubborn pride refused to let her admit it.
She had merely tasted the charcoal-grilled Hanwoo beef and pork ribs and subsequently demolished two bowls of rice and a bowl of cold noodles in absolute silence.
“We should keep the closest eye on China’s Kaijun team, Mongolia’s Ulziibatar team, and Russia’s Ilya team this year too, right?”
“It doesn’t matter; they are still no match for us. They might be the best in their own countries, but since we are here representing the honor of the RCA, we will absolutely win this. Understand, Victoria? Make sure you drill that into Joseph’s head too.”
With eyes burning with fierce competitive drive, Maria gave Victoria a stern warning.
Right on cue, the other participating teams began arriving at the competition venue one after another.
“Hey~ Maria, it has been a while. What brings the notoriously lazy RCA out to a competition like this?”
“I see you haven’t lost your obnoxious attitude, Kaijun? I assume that means you are confident?”
“We are always confident. We aren’t like those people who lock themselves away in some noble studio pretending to do art.”
“Excuse me!?”
Just then, Russia’s Ilya approached with a warm greeting.
“Hello everyone! I think it has been about 3 years since we were all together like this. It is great to see you.”
“Oh~ Ilya! Have you been well? You look even healthier than before.”
Most of the teams participating in these international sculpture competitions were familiar with one another.
Maria might not have known everyone well, as she hadn’t competed since winning her debut at the Harbin International Snow Sculpture Competition 3 years ago. However, most teams practically toured the global snow sculpture circuit, making it common to see the same faces repeatedly.
Honestly, despite being framed as a competition, judging artistic merit often blurred the lines of objective skill. While a competitive spirit certainly existed, a significant number of teams participated primarily to enjoy the festival atmosphere.
Of course, the absolute favorites aiming for the championship harbored slightly different mentalities.
With the arrival of Mongolia’s Ulziibatar, all the heavy favorites were finally gathered.
Suddenly, a solitary man carrying a massive, elongated bag appeared in the far corner.
“Who is that?”
While everyone else was grouped in teams of three, his solitary presence naturally drew attention.
“Ah, is that him? I heard a Korean movie actor was participating in the sculpture competition this time. But he entered alone? Without any teammates? Holy shit, is he insane?”
Hearing the Chinese team’s Kaijun, Maria scoffed in absolute disbelief.
“What? Who did they let into this sacred festival of art? A movie actor? And he is alone? Hah! Are the Korean organizers insane too? What do they think art is?”
Without another word, Maria marched straight toward Kyuha.
Joseph, her teammate, shook his head in exasperation.
“Here she goes again. She really has the worst habits.”
Approaching Kyuha, Maria offered a radiant smile and extended her hand, greeting him in her native Italian.
However, contrasting sharply with her bright expression, her words dripped with venom.
“Lieto di conoscerti. Stai dicendo che sei una star del cinema coreano? Penso che tu sia venuto a questo concorso per essere un clown. Voglio che ti vergogni di sapere che le tue azioni stanno umiliando i nostri artisti.”
*(Nice to meet you. I am Maria. I hear you are a Korean movie actor? It seems you came to this competition to act like a clown. I want you to feel ashamed, knowing that your ridiculous actions degrade the authority of us artists.)*
Faced with Maria’s viciously sweet smile, Kyuha grasped her hand and returned a warm smile of his own.
“Piacere di conoscervi. Non sapevo che esistessero ancora brutti artisti elitari che pensavano che l’arte fosse qualcosa che solo i privilegiati potevano godere.
Non sarebbe giusto vergognarsi di te stesso per essere stato catturato dalle ristrette idee artistiche tradizionali senza pensare affatto al motivo per cui l’arte è necessaria?”
*(It is nice to meet you too. I had no idea pathetic elitist artists who believed art was an exclusive privilege for the elite still existed. Shouldn’t you be the one feeling ashamed for trapping yourself in narrow-minded, traditional artistic dogma without ever once contemplating why art is necessary in the first place?)*
Maria’s jaw dropped in absolute horror. Her face rapidly turned a violent shade of crimson, leaving her completely paralyzed.
She had never, in her wildest dreams, imagined Kyuha would speak Italian with the fluency of a native.
“Comunque, non vedo l’ora di fare un buon lavoro, giovane artista.”
*(Regardless, I look forward to a good piece, young and foolish artist.)*
Kyuha released her hand, and Maria practically sprinted back to her team.
“H-How… what just happened? Why does that Asian know Italian? Didn’t they say he was an actor?”
Maria’s mind spiraled into panic, completely overwhelmed by a crushing wave of humiliation.
“Hmph! I-I didn’t know he could speak Italian! And anyway, did I say anything wrong!”
Grasping the situation, Joseph shot Maria a pathetic glare.
“I always knew you would get burned terribly one day, but I never expected it to be in Korea, Maria. That was entirely your mistake. Apologize to him later.”
“I will! Later, after the competition is over.”
Right on cue, the competition staff announced the basic rules and schedule, signaling the official commencement of the 3-day snow sculpture competition.
Massive snow cubes, prepared in advance, lined the competition grounds. Each cube was a behemoth, measuring 4 meters wide, 4 meters deep, and 4 meters tall.
The reason snow sculpture competitions were conducted in teams was simple: working for roughly 8 hours a day in temperatures plummeting to negative 20 or 30 degrees Celsius was physically and mentally impossible for a single person.
Furthermore, prolonged sculpting inevitably led to mistakes. And when a mistake occurred, snow had to be reattached and modified.
The modified area often turned transparent or discolored, creating a glaring discrepancy that severely degraded the piece’s overall completeness.
Because of this intense pressure, it was incredibly common for teams to become hypersensitive and erupt into vicious conflicts during the competition.
Based on their pre-planned designs, each team began sculpting organically, executing their assigned roles.
Typically, powerhouse teams like those from Russia or the US utilized a bizarre array of unfamiliar tools, boasting terrifying speed and exceptional quality.
While carving away snow with her own specialized tools, Maria stole a glance at the Asian actor she had insulted earlier.
“It is absolutely impossible. Completing a snow sculpture of this size alone in 3 days is impossi…ble? W-What the hell is that!”
Slice, slice, slice.
The gazes of every single participating team were naturally yanked toward a single point.
Where their eyes landed, Kyuha stood armed with a single, long chisel, carving away the snow at a terrifying, monstrous speed.
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