Return of the Genius Photographer

The place Dali Akus took me to was a massive club called Yolo.

The music was so loud it felt like someone was slapping my ears.

People inside were drinking and dancing freely.

Among them, Dali Akus was also enjoying himself, clinking glasses with women he’d just met.

‘Honestly, he’s as wild as he looks.’

I’d been watching him since we arrived.

He didn’t stop drinking.

‘And it’s all vodka…’

Just watching him made me feel drunk, so I turned my gaze to the crowd.

Now I understood why my friends had been complaining so much.

I had come here for photography advice, but all we’d done was drink and party. What was the point?

As I awkwardly tried to blend in, Dali came over and asked.

“Hey, why are you just sitting there?”

The smell of alcohol and his flushed face.

He was laughing nonstop, clearly in a good mood from the drinks.

“Are you a prude?”

“What?”

“Why did you start photography?”

“Hmm, I never really thought about it.”

He slung an arm around my shoulder and started asking me all sorts of questions.

“Me? I started photography to get close to women.”

“What?”

“You know how many girls I’ve dated because of that?”

Without me even asking, he held up five fingers and waved them at me.

“500. Five hundred.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“It’s true! And stop acting like such a loser in a place like this.”

What was this guy even saying?

“Isn’t it more of a loser move to blindly follow what others tell you to do?”

When I answered with a hint of disbelief, Dali laughed heartily.

“I thought you were a stiff, but you’ve got some guts. I like that.”

Then he added.

“Listen, kid, I don’t really feel much of a connection to Yale.”

“Really?”

“If anything, Yale should be thanking me. I’m the one who graced them with my presence.”

I thought he was just spouting nonsense because he was drunk, but…

“That’s why I don’t really like participating in events like this.”

The moment his serious expression broke through his laughter, I realized he wasn’t just drunk.

“I only agreed because I owe Professor Ryan a personal favor.”

How could someone who seemed like a drunken mess just moments ago change so quickly…?

“Do you think it makes sense to have a senior-junior relationship just because we went to the same school? To unilaterally help someone you’ve never even met?”

I nodded seriously as I listened to him.

Maybe this was what he really wanted to say.

Honestly, it felt more comfortable hearing him talk like this.

It actually made me trust him more.

“I respect that.”

I was honest with him.

Truthfully, I had already prepared myself to handle Art Unity alone if things didn’t work out.

But now, I was starting to feel curious.

Dali Akus, who had gained worldwide fame at such a young age, not long after graduating.

What kind of photos did he take?

Wouldn’t being by his side lead to new experiences and photography?

Maybe this meeting was an opportunity in its own way.

“But I think I might still need your help.”

“Haha, you’ve got guts.”

Dali smirked.

“I like people with guts. Let’s have a drink.”

And so, we clinked glasses.

***

The more I saw of Dali, the more I realized how far from ordinary he was.

If I had to describe him…

He was like a rebellious child.

“Ugh, damn. I might not make it…”

“What are you doing?”

“Can’t you see? Public urination.”

“But it says not to do that here…”

“That’s exactly why I’m doing it.”

Like how telling a child not to do something only makes them want to do it more, Dali seemed to go out of his way to do the opposite of what was expected.

― Do not step on the grass ―

“Hey, kid, wanna lie down here for a bit?”

― Do not lean on the railing ―

“Kid, wait a second…”

After spending a few days by his side, quietly observing.

I started to think this guy wasn’t going to die peacefully.

I wouldn’t be surprised if one day I heard he’d died in some bizarre way.

Dali acted like he was testing the people around him.

‘He’s even more eccentric than the rumors said…’

Honestly, among artists, who wasn’t a little eccentric?

But I’d heard so many rumors about how peculiar his personality was, and I wondered how those rumors even started.

Turns out, the rumors were actually tame compared to the real thing.

“Here, drink!”

When night fell, Dali took me to another bar.

Bright lights and loud music.

We’d already been to over ten different bars just by following him.

Two bars a day was the minimum.

At this rate, we might end up visiting every club in the area…

“What about preparing for Art Unity?”

“Huh?”

“We only have a few weeks left. We need to start preparing for the exhibition…”

Unable to stand the aimless passing of time, I finally brought it up. Dali tilted his head.

“Preparing for the exhibition? What’s that?”

“Huh? Well… deciding what photos to take, practicing by taking a few shots… there are plenty of ways.”

“I’ve never once decided in advance what photos I’m going to take.”

“Really?”

“You have to go with the flow when inspiration strikes.”

Then he shrugged and added.

“Listen, kid. Art is all about feeling. If you’re trying to plan everything, you’re not doing art.”

“But we’re fighting against a deadline here.”

“Deadlines exist to be ignored.”

“This is a really important exhibition.”

I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or just messing with me because he was drunk.

Dali just grinned happily.

“Junior, there’s nothing more important in this world than living today to the fullest.”

Is this why they say not to argue with drunks…?

I was curious about what kind of photos this guy would take, but it might take longer than I thought.

“Why so serious? Let’s have some fun!”

“One of us has to stay sober, and since you’ve taken all the fun for yourself, I guess it’s me.”

When I answered like that, Dali handed me a glass and said.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

“Do what?”

“If you show me you can have a good time tonight, I’ll listen to you tomorrow.”

Then he clapped his hands, pleased with his own idea.

He must be really drunk tonight…

“Sigh… fine.”

I sighed and downed the drink.

Whatever.

It wasn’t like overthinking this would get me anywhere.

Let’s just drink for today.

“That’s the spirit!”

Dali cheered.

He kept refilling my glass.

And so, I spent the rest of the night clinking glasses with him and drinking.

***

It was an unfamiliar ceiling.

‘Ugh…’

With a pounding headache, I clutched my head and barely managed to sit up.

I’d drunk way too much last night.

It started with just one glass of vodka…

But I couldn’t even remember how much I’d had after that.

Honestly…

In both of my lives, I don’t think I’ve ever drunk this much.

The lingering effects of the alcohol kept my mind foggy, and my mouth felt dry.

The smell of alcohol on my body made me nauseous.

Ugh—!

Oh no, just thinking about alcohol made me feel like throwing up.

I barely held back the urge to vomit and tried to steady myself. When I turned on my phone to check the time…

‘What’s this?’

I was met with an overwhelming number of missed calls.

Missed calls from Malcolm, Junie, and Anna—dozens of them.

Feeling panicked and uneasy, I checked my messages.

Unsurprisingly, there were dozens of texts too.

― Hey, are you not coming back to the dorm today?

― My mentor told me today’s the day we draw lots for the exhibition spots. Don’t be late.

― Why aren’t you here yet?

― Where are you?

― Hurry up, it’s about to start.

― Are you not coming?

― What are you doing that you’re not answering?

― Pick up the phone.

― Our exhibition spot’s been decided.

From the messages, it seemed today was the day teams drew lots for their exhibition spots.

It was also the first time we’d meet the opposing team and hear about the exhibition theme, so I’d been curious about it…

But judging by the time, it was long over.

It seemed the mentors had been contacted first…

As I scrolled through the messages with a grim expression.

“Oh! Kid, you’re up early?”

Dali, who had woken up at some point, called out to me.

Unlike me, he looked perfectly fine.

No wonder he’s a drunk—he must have an incredible tolerance for alcohol.

“Here, eat this. It’s kaymak. It’s great for hangovers.”

He handed me something that looked like cream, smiling warmly.

“I found out about it when I was shooting in Turkey…”

Just as he was about to launch into a story.

I asked him with a serious expression.

“Did you know today was the day we were supposed to draw lots for the exhibition spots?”

“Huh? Yeah, of course.”

Dali answered nonchalantly.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

I clutched my throbbing head and confronted him.

We’d been together all day yesterday—why didn’t he say a single word about it?

And I had no idea…

“What’s so important about deciding the exhibition area?”

“Isn’t that too much? You should’ve at least told me.”

Just as my frustration was about to boil over.

“Hey, junior, what do you think art is?”

Dali asked with a suddenly serious expression.

“What? Out of nowhere?”

“Tell me, what do you think art is?”

Why was he suddenly asking about art in the middle of a conversation about exhibition spots?

“I’ve never really tried to define that word.”

Baffled by the abstract question, I shot back at him.

“What do *you* think art is, senior?”

Dali answered.

“I think art is just something that wastes a lot of people’s time.”

“Wastes?”

“If a photo makes someone look at it twice, or three times, isn’t that artistic enough?”

Then he added.

“Whatever it is.”

It was an expression I’d never seen on him before.

His serious, philosophical words left me silent.

“I hate separating commerce from art. I just think art is something that steals a lot of people’s time.”

Dali started getting ready to leave.

“Let’s go.”

“Huh? Are we going drinking again?”

“No.”

He looked me in the eye and said.

“Today, we’re going to make art.”