Spring to Life 纸上行旅

May 31, 2019 2019年5月31日

Yeni Kim is a Korean artist who constructs whimsical little worlds out of paper. Simple as they seem, these pint-sized creations are only the fruit of round after round of trial and error. “Paper art was much more complicated than I thought,” she admits. “I usually first start with a sketch, then I make several 3D paper models so I can try different types and colors of paper to find the most harmonious and beautiful combinations.” The work doesn’t end there, though. Before taking the final photos of her paper assemblages in a studio setting, Kim often has to go back and make more adjustments to ensure that everything is flawless.

韩国艺术家 Yeni Kim,用纸搭建出这一个个充满奇思妙想的小世界。不过在这些看似简单的纸张创作背后,其实是靠一次又一次浩大工程的实验成果。“纸艺比我想像中还要复杂许多。你必须先画好草图,依照它做出立体的纸模型,过程中必须试验各种纸张的材质类型和颜色,以找到最和谐、好看的组合。”做好之后,一切还没有结束。在送到摄影工作室进行拍摄之前,Yeni 常常需要来回进行多次修改,以确保它在平面上呈现的效果。

Kim started out as an illustrator, but over time she came to feel she wanted to convey more than was possible in a two-dimensional illustration. “I wanted something more vivid, fresh, and joyful to present my thoughts and views of the world,” Kim recalls. She found her answer in paper. Paper may look flimsy, but it’s a tough, flexible material that can bring the imagination to life. Sculpting with paper allows for more narrative possibilities than drawing on it.

Kim’s studio, Marchcraft, is named after the month that welcomes the spring season—a month that, to the artist, represents warm memories and nascent hope. Her art encapsulates this springtime essence, carrying a warmth that feels like a gentle breeze on a sunny afternoon. “I think art has the ability to move people,” Kim says. “And through my paper creations, I want to bring more warmth and positivity to the world.”

Yeni Kim 早先其实是一位插画家,不过渐渐地,她觉得她想传递的东西已经超过平面插画所能表达的范畴。“我想找一个更生动、新鲜、快乐的方式去更好地呈现我所看到的世界和想法。”随后,她即在纸张中找到了她的答案。纸张看似娇弱,实际上却非常坚韧,可塑性也很强,可以让各种幻想都构筑成现实。就像是用纸来作画,只不过增加了更多空间的叙事可能性。


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Website: www.marchcraft.com
Instagram: @yeni_kim
Behance: ~/yenikim  


Contributor: Yang Yixuan




网站: www.marchcraft.com
Instagram: @yeni_kim
Behance: ~/yenikim  


供稿人: Yang Yixuan

City Poetry 城市诗歌

May 29, 2019 2019年5月29日
心心: Emotion Shift心心: Emotion Shift

Since moving to Hong Kong in 2011, photographer Romain Jacquet-Lagrèze has been captivated by the beauty of Chinese characters. In his latest series, City Poetry, his longstanding interest has made its way into his work. Like his previous photo series The Blue Moment and Concrete Stories, which we’ve featured before, Jacquet-Lagrèze puts a fresh spin on an over-photographed cliché of Hong Kong: its iconic signs.

Rather than the rows of neon billboards and sign-cluttered streets that are ubiquitous on Instagram, Jacquet-Lagrèze takes a close-up look at Hong Kong’s signage. His photos isolate individual characters from their original context and highlight how prolonged exposure to time and the elements have worn them down. Yet despite the peeling paint and cracked veneers, the characters—even when they’ve completely fallen off—remain legible. “People designed them to be informative and attractive,” Jacquet-Lagrèze says, “But I think the erosion transforms them into something more, something deeper.”

City Poetry goes beyond mere documentation though. With help from his Hong Kong-born wife, Jacquet-Lagrèze has taken this collection of characters and assembled them into various idioms and phrases, imbuing them with new meaning beyond their original context and paying tribute to Cantonese culture.

自 2011 年搬到香港以后,摄影师 Romain Jacquet-Lagrèze 一直被汉字之美所吸引。在他的最新系列《City Poetry》(《城市诗歌》)里,他对汉字旷日持久的兴趣也融入其中。与他之前的作品  The Blue Moment 和 Concrete Stories 一样,Romain 的新作让人耳目一新,给香港被过度拍摄的标志性特色注入了新的色彩。

不同于 Instagram 上随处可见的霓虹灯招牌和的街道,Romain 近距离观察香港的标牌。他的照片将单个的汉字与原来的上下文隔离开来,凸显了那些招牌经年累月的痕迹。那些汉字,尽管油漆斑驳、背板开缝——甚至完全剥落——但依然清晰可见。“人们把它们设计成饱含信息量且充满吸引力的样子,但我认为时光的侵蚀使之转化成更充沛、更深刻的东西。”

不过,《City Poetry》并不仅仅局限于此。在香港出生的妻子的帮助下,Romain 把这些字汇集成各种习语和短语,赋予它们原有语境之外的新含义,并致敬粤语文化。

Left: 香港文化 - Hong Kong Culture. Right: 福如東海 - Boundless Happiness左:香港文化 - Hong Kong Culture. 右:福如东海 - Boundless Happiness
Left: 點石成金 - Turning Stone into Gold. Right: 百苦成材 - A Hundred Pains Forge Talent左:點石成金 - Turning Stone into Gold. 右:百苦成材 - A Hundred Pains Forge Talent
園 - Forgotten Garden园 - Forgotten Garden
勵行 - Inspirational Urge励行 - Inspirational Urge
精品 - Objets d'Art精品 - Objets d'Art
愛家 - Love Home爱家 - Love Home
九龍 - The Nine Dragons九龙 - The Nine Dragons

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Website: www.romainjl.com

Contributor: David Yen
Chinese Translation: Chen Yuan


供稿人: David Yen
英译中: Chen Yuan

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HSL in the Studio 色彩实验室

May 29, 2019 2019年5月29日

This story is part of a content partnership and media exchange between Neocha and VSCO. VSCO’s membership program is designed to help you reach your creative potential. Take the next step in your creative journey by starting your free 7-day trial today and gain access to the complete VSCO preset library, the newest editing tools, and inspiring educational content.

HSL gives you full control of the individual colors in your images. Together, the Hue, Saturation, and Lightness sliders can be used to create both dramatic and nuanced effects. By controlling colored lights in a studio, the three approaches below help illustrate the basics of the three sliders. Try making a simple studio setup with your own lights, or experiment with some of these editing techniques on an existing image that has a few dominant colors.

本篇文章来自新茶媒体合作伙伴  VSCO 的内容交换。VSCO 是一个专门帮助摄影爱好者发挥创造潜力的会员项目。现在就开启你的 7 天免费试用,获取完整的预设滤镜,以及新的编辑工具、视频编辑和教程内容。

HSL 工具可以让你掌控图像中的每一种颜色。使用 H—Hue(色调)、S—Saturation(饱和度)和 L—Lightness(亮度)滑块,有利于创建既戏剧化又富含细节的视觉效果。以下我们将通过在工作室里设置彩色灯光来说明关于 HSL 的基础知识。你也可以试试使用自己的灯光进行简单的实验,或者在一张没有太多主色的照片中尝试这些编辑技巧。


Use Hue to shift colors



Green and purple are the dominant colors in the original image on the left. By selecting the green icon inside the HSL tool, we can shift the hue of all the green parts of the image. Sliding hue to -6.0 gradually shifts the color from green to its neighbor on the color wheel, yellow. A move in the opposite direction would have shifted the green toward blue. By shifting the hue of the purple region in the image, a more subtle change toward pink is apparent. Use the hue sliders to experiment with creating targeted color shifts.

绿色和紫色是原始图像(左侧)中的主色。通过选择 HSL 工具内的绿色图标,我们可以调整图像中所有绿色部分的色调。将色调滑动到 -6.0,颜色逐渐从绿色转移到色环上的相邻颜色——黄色。向反方向移动,则会使绿色向蓝色移动。通过改变图像中紫色区域的色调,可以看到向粉红色的微妙变化更明显了。使用色相滑块来创建更有针对性的色彩偏移。


Use Saturation to isolate colors



Saturation is most easily thought of as color intensity. Increasing saturation enhances the color by making it stronger and more vibrant. Decreasing saturation removes color until it ultimately becomes a shade of gray, with no color at all. Taking this to the extreme, HSL allows you to completely remove some colors from a photo, while maintaining, or even boosting, others. In this example, all colors exempt purple were desaturated to -6.0, turning the whole image black and white exempt for the purple regions, which remained saturated.

饱和度常常被视作颜色强度,增加饱和度可以增强颜色,让照片更强烈、更有活力。反之,减少饱和度会消除颜色,直到它最终变成一块丧失色彩的灰色阴影。将此情况发挥到极致,HSL 工具让你可以从照片中完全删除某些颜色,同时保有、甚至是提升其他颜色。在这个例子中,所有非紫色的颜色都被去饱和度到了 -6.0,变为黑白,只有紫色区域保持饱和。


Use Lightness to adjust tones



The lightness slider controls how bright or how dark a particular color appears, without drastically shifting the color itself. Sliding up to +6.0 will lighten the color’s tone, while moving down to -6.0 will darken it, creating a deeper tonality. This example shows how lightness can be gradually shifted from light to dark

亮度滑块控制特定颜色的亮度或暗度,并不会显着地改变颜色本身。滑动到 +6.0 会增亮颜色,而向下移动到 -6.0 会使颜色变暗,从而产生更深的色调。图中的例子显示了亮度滑块如何让图像逐渐从亮到暗移动。

I Stand Between 两种文化的夹缝之间

May 27, 2019 2019年5月27日
Mia Rubin was 23 when the photo was taken in February 2017. She was adopted from Maoming, China, when she was 4 months old.Mia Rubin,出生于中国茂名市,在4个月大时被领养。照片于2017年2月拍摄,当时她23岁。

“Mom, did I ever live inside of you? She answered, ‘No, you didn’t.'”

This conversation between Mia Rubin and her mother has stuck with her since childhood. She’s felt the answer’s faint yet insistent sting deep within all her life, never quite fading away.

The colorful portrait of Rubin above is by Mengwen Cao, an artist from Hangzhou who now lives and works in New York. In 2012 she moved to the US for grad school, and immersed in that foreign culture, she found her calling as a photographer. The portrait is part of her series I Stand Between, which she began after living in the US for four years. “When I was back in China, people thought I was too American; when I was in the U.S., they thought I was too Chinese. So where do I belong? The feeling of not being embraced by both places I consider home is what inspired me to seek out people who might share similar experiences.”

“‘妈妈,我以前在你的肚子里待过吗?’她说不,你没有。”Mia Rubin 回忆起小时候的她曾是这么问过。在听到回答后,心底那股隐约而坚实的刺痛感扎根在她成长的每一道轨迹里,不曾淡去过。

而在上方那张色彩斑斓的 Mia 的照片背后,是来自杭州的摄影师曹梦雯。她于 2012 年离开中国前往美国就学,在异乡找到自己的人生志业——摄影师,之后一直生活在纽约。

在开始此拍摄项目《I STAND BETWEEN》之前,她在美国生活了四年多的时间,“当我回到中国,人们觉得我太美国;当我在美国,人家又觉得我太中国。我到底属于何方?这种夹在两种文化之间、不被双方接受的感受,促使我想要找到更多与我拥有相同经历的人。”

Cao’s own experiences as queer played a role in her desire to explore the stories of people with non-traditional backgrounds. So for this photo series, she focused on Asian adoptees who grew up in white families.

With the help of friends, social media, and nonprofits, she found several subjects to sit for her. Ranging in age, they come from China, Korea, and Indonesia, and most were adopted into the U.S. as babies. “Before the potential interviewees felt 100% on board, I met up with them and just chatted without recording or taking photos,” Cao says. “Transracial adoption is still a sensitive and complicated topic. I am extremely grateful for those who agreed to participate in the project and shared their experience in such an honest and vulnerable way.”

The portraits were mostly taken at the subjects’ homes. Facing the camera, they seem to reveal their innermost thoughts directly to us. No matter your age, gender, or position, opening up about your vulnerabilities is something that takes a lot of courage. Her photos are full of intimacy and complexity—a valuable record of human stories.




With the conclusion of the project, Cao reflected on all the stories she had heard. She thought back to when she first arrived in the U.S. and how she felt like she needed to adapt and integrate into local culture; she felt like she needed to consistently defy Chinese stereotypes in order to become an “authentic” American. But today, she’s come to terms with who she is: a cultural in-betweener. She now cherishes the fact that she’s able to engage with both cultures, and sees these experiences as having made her stronger. Embracing her differences has helped Cao realize her distinctive place in the world.


Una was 11 when the photo was taken in May 2017. She was adopted from Korea when she was 9 months old.Una,出生于韓国,在9个月大时被领养。照片于2017年5月拍摄,当时她11岁。
Pauline Park, a writer, was 58 when the photo was taken in April 2017. She was adopted from Korea when she was 7½ months old. Pauline Park是一位作家,出生于韓国,在7个月半大时被领养。照片于 2017 年 4 月拍摄,当时她 58 岁。

“The concept of authenticity kept coming up in my conversations with the adoptees,” Cao says. “But the word ‘authenticity’ implies that there’s only one truth. After talking to them, I realized that authenticity means embracing all the differences of our multifaceted identity. There is no one way to be American or Asian.”

In addition to taking their photos, Cao recorded a conversation with each one of her subjects, letting us hear for ourselves as they tell their own stories. Below are some of their photos and audio recordings. (You can listen to the whole series on Cao’s website.)




Cydney Blitzer

Cydney Blitzer was 19 when the photo was taken in February 2017. She was adopted from Hunan, China, when she was 8 months old.Cydney Blitzer,出生于中国湖南省,在8个月大时被领养。照片于2017年2月拍摄,当时她19岁。
“We don’t really identify ourselves as anything except adopted.”


“I’ve always known that I was adopted, but she has never been anything less than my mother. Honestly, putting labels on it—adopted mother, adopted daughter—undermines the significance of the relationship. My mom was the one who had to listen to the ignorant remarks of people who were like ‘Where did you buy her?'”





Nam Holtz

Nam Holtz was 43 when the photo was taken in April 2017. She was adopted from Korea when she was 6 months old. Nam Holtz,出生于韓国,在6个月大时被领养。照片于2017年4月拍摄,当时她43岁。

“I look this way, but I feel another way.”


“He would look at me across the dinner table and speak to me in Korean to me and expect me to understand. And he was at completely lost cause he looked around at all these white faces like ‘What the heck is going on?’ And as a five-year-old kid, I felt really stressed out and guilty that I couldn’t understand him . . . I think it was too much for me, and I started taking Pseudoephed.”





Emily Roe

Emily Roe was 26 when the photo was taken in April 2017. She was adopted from China when she was 4 months old.Emily Roe,出生于中国,在4个月大时被领养。照片于2017年4月拍摄,当时她26岁。

“I was born in Asia but I’m just very American.”


“There’s always a part of me to be this entity that has like dealt with being ‘outcasted’ in different ways. From being adopted, to my learning disability, to my experience of being an Asian person in a very white area, and even this ostracization from other Asian people. Growing up I have this very complicated relationship with Asian people because I felt very judged and very unaccepted.”





Nicole Maloof

Nicole Maloof, was 35 when the photo was taken in April 2017. She was adopted from Korea when she was 3 months old and grew up in Massachusetts.Nicole Maloof,出生于韩国,在3个月大时被领养。照片于2017年4月拍摄,当时她35岁。
“I wonder, was being raised in United States worth the pain my mother had to go through in giving up a child?


“I have dreamed about my birth mother’s face as long as I can remember. I didn’t have any idea what she would look like, and I couldn’t even imagine a family member that looked like me cause I’ve never experienced it. So I contacted this adoption agency, Holt. Within six months, Holt had managed to contact my birth family and we met. I saw these two strangers there, my mom and her older sister. But as soon as we hugged, my mom apologized.”



“从我记得以来,我一直梦到我亲生妈妈的脸。我完全不知道她的长相,也无法想像任何一个长得像我的家庭成员,因为我没有那种经历。我联系了当初的领养机构 Holt,然后等待。差不多等了半年,Holt 找到我的亲生妈妈了。见面时,我看到两个陌生人站在我面前,一个是我母亲,另一个是她的姐姐。接着我妈妈拥抱了我,向我道歉。”


Mathew Luce

Mathew Luce was 25 when his portraits below were taken in May 2017. He was adopted from Indonesia by two dads.Mathew Luce,出生于印尼,被两位爸爸所领养。照片于2017年5月拍摄,当时他25岁。
“I feel at home, though I’m in the middle ground of being Asian and kind of white.”


“When I hang out with my Asian friends, they always say ‘You’re so white! The way you talk, the way you express your feelings, and especially the way you eat.’ I’ll say ‘Thank you. Just like my dad.’ . . . I’m proud that I’m Asian, and I’m proud that sometimes I act white. It’s just me. That’s how I grew up.”




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Contributor: Yang Yixuan
English Translation: David Yen

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网站: mengwencao.com
Instagram: @mengwencao


供稿人: Yang Yixuan
中译英: David Yen

Tokyo Jazz Joints 夜色里的爵士酒馆

May 24, 2019 2019年5月24日

A Japanese salaryman leaves his office late at night, exhausted from the grueling hours. He’s running on very little sleep. The night air is cold, and the train station is not too far away. But he turns in the opposite direction, through the labyrinthine alleyways of Tokyo—he has one stop in mind before heading home. He walks a couple of blocks to a small establishment that one could very easily miss. He opens the door and is embraced by warmth and the steady lull of music on vinyl. The owner greets him, and he takes a seat at the bar. He’ll have the usual, he says. He takes a sip of his beer. The rhythm from the record player eventually takes him away, into a trance he shares with the few other patrons who had also come in to enjoy the magic that is jazz.


Intro Bar / Shinjuku-ku, Tokyo Intro Bar / 东京市新宿区
Intro Bar / Shinjuku-ku, Tokyo Intro Bar / 东京市新宿区

“Maybe that’s their one moment of freedom,” says Tony Higgins of BBE music in an interview with Philip Arneill, the photographer behind Tokyo Jazz Joints, a project that captures these unique establishments. Arneill, an Irish photographer who lived in Tokyo for 19 years, was not only drawn to the charm of jazz bars, but also worried about their longevity. “The original raison d’être for the project was that jazz joints were disappearing all over the country, due to rising rent, aging owners, and a dwindling customer base,” he says.

“也许这是他们自由的时刻。”音乐厂牌 BBE 的 Tony Higgins 在和一个专门拍摄这些爵士乐场景的项目 Tokyo Jazz Joints 的摄影师 Philip Arneill 采访时说道。Philip Arneill 是一位在东京生活了19年的爱尔兰摄影师,不仅深受爵士酒吧魅力的吸引,还相当关注它们还能存活多久的议题。“该项目最初的存在理由是由于租金上涨、业主老龄化以及客户群逐渐缩小,全国各地的爵士乐场所正在消失。”他说。

Hello Dolly / Nakagyo-ku, Kyoto Hello Dolly / 京都市中京区
Hello Dolly / Nakagyo-ku, Kyoto Hello Dolly / 京都市中京区
Hello Dolly / Nakagyo-ku, Kyoto Hello Dolly / 京都市中京区
Hello Dolly / Nakagyo-ku, Kyoto Hello Dolly / 京都市中京区

Arneill first discovered this subculture of jazz bars and cafés when he visited Hello Dolly, a jazz bar in Kyoto. He immediately knew he’d found something unique that he needed to document. He called up his friend James Catchpole, a broadcaster and writer based in Yokohama, with the idea for the photo series. At the time, Catchpole ran the Tokyo Jazz Site, a blog indexing every jazz-related establishment in the Tokyo area, which proved indispensable as Arneill plotted his itinerary. The venue that kicked off the project was Pithecanthropus Erectus in Tokyo’s Kamata district, which they photographed back in 2015. Since then, the duo has documented over 160 different establishments throughout the country. Their genuine respect for jazz may be why they’ve never been refused to photograph a bar.

The duo plan on publishing a photography book with the best of the project once they pass the 200 mark. Though Arneill is now based in Dublin, he is planning a few upcoming trips back to Japan to document 50 to 60 more locations.

当 Philip 访问位在京都的爵士酒吧 Hello Dolly 时,他首先发现了这种爵士酒馆和咖啡馆的亚文化,当下他就知道自己找到了必须记录下来的场景。他打电话给朋友 James Catchpole,他是一位住在横滨的广播员和作家,告诉他自己的想法:创作一个摄影系列。当时,James 开办了一个介绍东京各个爵士相关活动的博客 Tokyo Jazz Site,每当 Philip 在策划他的行程时,这个博客扮演了不可或缺的角色。该项目于2015年进行了第一个地点拍摄——东京蒲田区的 Pithecanthropus Erectus。从那时起,这个双人组总共记录了全国160多个场所。他们对于爵士乐的真正尊重,也许正是他们从未被拒绝拍摄的原因。

一旦超越 200 次拍摄的里程碑,他们希望计划出版一本收录其中最好作品的摄影书。虽然 Philip 现在人在都柏林工作,但他正计划一些到日本的旅行,以记录其他 50 到 60 个地点。

Pithecanthropus Erectus / Ota-ku, Tokyo Pithecanthropus Erectus / 东京市大田区
Pithecanthropus Erectus / Ota-ku, Tokyo Pithecanthropus Erectus / 东京市大田区
Pithecanthropus Erectus / Ota-ku, Tokyo Pithecanthropus Erectus / 东京市大田区

Jazz arrived in Japan after the First World Two and was very popular in the 1920s and 1930s, until it was outlawed during the Second World War. After the war, Japan’s occupation by U.S. forces revived the genre. Many jazz bars that opened at the time were even dedicated to specific artists. The most notable may be Basie, named after the legendary American musician William James “Count” Basie. The current owner, Shoji “Swifty” Sugawara, has collected over 10,000 jazz LPs and, countless items of Basie memorabilia. He even became good friends with the man himself—a portrait that Sugawara took of Basie still hangs in the venue today.

爵士乐在第一次世界大战后抵达日本,在上世纪20、30年代时非常受欢迎,直到第二次世界大战期间被明文禁止。战争结束后,占领日本的美军再次振兴了此音乐流派。当时有许多爵士酒吧是特别为了向几位艺术家致敬而创立,其中最值得注意的可能是由菅原正二(Shoji “Swifty” Sugawara)经营的 Basie,以传奇美国音乐家 William James “Count”  Basie 命名。到目前为止,菅原先生已经收集了超过一万张爵士乐唱片和无数样 Basie 的纪念品。他甚至还和这位音乐家成为了好朋友,至今菅原拍摄的 Basie 肖像仍然挂在墙上。

Shoji “Swifty” Sugawara, the owner of Basie / Jishu-machi, Ichinoseki Basie 的老板菅原正二 / 一关市地主町
Basie / Jishu-machi, Ichinoseki Basie / 一关市地主町
Basie / Jishu-machi, Ichinoseki Basie / 一关市地主町
Basie / Jishu-machi, Ichinoseki Basie / 一关市地主町

“Every jazz joint is different, and that always makes for exciting visits,” says Arneill . “It’s very hard to categorize concisely, but I would say the quintessential jazz bar features are a very high-end sound system with large bespoke handmade speakers, vinyl of course, and a simple menu that consists of coffee and/or alcohol.” He also notes that the sound system is often placed in a central location, which is  an arrangement similar to the structure of most Japanese shrines.

“每个爵士乐场所都是不同的,因此每次拜访总是让我很兴奋。”Philip 说。“实在很难帮它们分类,不过,典型的爵士酒吧会有一个非常高端的音响系统,配有大型订制的手工扬声器,当然还有黑胶唱片,和一个备有咖啡或酒饮的简单菜单。”他还补充说道音箱系统通常会被放置在中央位置,类似于大多数日本神社的结构。

Samurai / Shinjuku, Tokyo Samurai / 东京市新宿区
Samurai / Shinjuku, Tokyo Samurai / 东京市新宿区
Jazz Spot Candy / Inage-ku, Chiba Jazz Spot Candy / 千葉市稲毛区
Club Goodman / Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo Club Goodman / 東京市千代田区
Club Goodman / Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo Club Goodman / 東京市千代田区

Arneill captures the establishments as they are, without flash or additional lighting. This can sometimes be challenging, as many of these places are dark and open only in the evening. He says he’s gotten more confident over time in documenting each location, which requires not only photographic skill but also the ability to make chit-chat with the owners. Through his conversations, he’s come to better understand how these places have aged, how the spaces reflect the owners’ personalities, and how they’re influenced by the surrounding neighborhood: “The bars very much represent a subculture now, as many Japanese are unaware of their existence, or have never visited one.” He notes that there is little incentive for owners’ children to carry on the family businesses because of the odd working hours and minimal profits.

Philip 会按照这些场所最真实的样子去拍摄,没有闪光灯或额外的照明。有时候这极具挑战性,因为很多这些地方都很黑暗,只在晚上开放。随着时间过去,每一次经历都让他获得更多信心,这不仅仅需要摄影技术,还要具备和老板闲聊的技巧。通过谈话,他会更好地了解这些地方如何变迁、空间如何反映老板的个性、以及它们如何受到周围社区的影响:“酒吧现在非常代表亚文化,许多日本人都不知道它们的存在,或者从来没有去过。”他指出,由于不寻常的工作时间、利润微薄,老板的孩子通常没有意愿接手家族企业。

The owner of Marshmallow / Naka-ku, Yamashitacho Marshmallow 的老板 / 横浜市中区
The husband-and-wife duo behind Coltrane Coltrane / Higashi-machi, Tosu Coltrane Coltrane 夫妻双档 / 鸟栖市东町
The owner of Rindo Jazz Cafe / Maehara, Honjo Rindo Jazz Cafe 的老板 / 本庄市前原
The owner of Birdland / Adachi-ku, Tokyo Birdland 的老板 / 东京市足立区

Japanese jazz bar owners would be more keen to pass on their businesses to another generation if they knew how incredibly rare their spaces are. Arneill says that owners are often surprised when he tells them that in their particular form such places exist only in Japan. “It’s ironic that so many of these places are vanishing, as there now seems to be a trend in other countries for vinyl-centered listening bars, many of which take the whole look and style from Japanese bars.” He mentions Spiritland in London and Rhinoceros in Berlin as examples.

如果日本爵士酒馆的老板们知道自己的空间有多么珍贵,他们会更热衷于把它传承给下一代人。Philip 说,当他告诉他们这样特定的地方只存在在日本时,他们的反应都非常惊讶。“讽刺的是,很多这些地方都在消失,因为现在其他国家似乎都流行着以黑胶为重点的酒吧趋势,其中许多却都采用了日本酒吧的外观和风格。”他举了伦敦的 Spiritland、柏林的 Rhinoceros 为例。

Miles / Setagaya-ku, Tokyo Miles / 东京市世田谷区

Not long after the Second World War, a fledgling pianist found herself in Chigusa, a famous jazz bar in Yokohama. At first she detested the genre, but after a record collector played Teddy Wilson’s “Sweet Lorraine” for her, she changed her mind. She sought out the only place she could listen to more, returning again and again, asking the owner to replay a particular section from her favorite albums or recommend new music. Toshiko Akiyoshi’s love for jazz deepened, and she went on to become one of the most influential jazz pianists of all time.

In the years to come, the only trace of what salarymen or aspiring musicians felt in these niche establishments may be relegated to photos like Arneill’s. The chatter of drunken conversation and the communal experience of listening to your favorite records in a room filled with like-minded jazz lovers is impossible to replicate in a still image, but as more of these bars and cafes begin shutting their doors, Arneill’s photography serves as a time capsule of sorts, preserving their memories.

A selection of prints from the project will be on exhibition at the Rhinoçéros jazz bar in Berlin from June 7th to June 29th.

第二次世界大战结束不久后,在横滨著名的爵士酒吧 Chigusa 有一位初出茅庐的钢琴家的身影。在这之前,她并不喜欢爵士乐。但在一位唱片收藏家的引导之下,她找到了唯一一个可以听到更多这种音乐类型的地方。她一次又一次地回来,要求老板从她最喜欢的专辑中重复播放一个段落、或是推荐新的音乐。秋吉敏子对爵士乐的热爱加深了,尔后她成为了有史以来最具影响力的爵士乐钢琴家之一。

在未来的岁月里,无论是支薪族或是有抱负的音乐家——人们在这些狭小空间里感受到的种种,可能只能在 Philip 的照片中找到残存的痕迹了。虽然这些酒酣耳热的交谈、和志同道合的爵士爱好者一起享受音乐的体验,是无法在照片中重现出来的,但在这些场所真正消失之前,Philip 的作品就像一只储存时光的胶囊,将专属于这些空间的回忆和意义流传下去。

该项目的部分照片,将于6月7日至29日在柏林的 Rhinoçéros 爵士酒吧展出。

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Website: www.tokyojazzjoints.com
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Contributor: Eugene Lee



网站: www.tokyojazzjoints.com
Instagram: @tokyojazzjoints
脸书: ~/tokyojazzjoints


供稿人: Eugene Lee

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Arriving in London 进入伦敦

May 22, 2019 2019年5月22日

Arriving in London

by Wu Qi


This essay originally appeared in Chinese as the introduction to One-Way Street Magazine no. 18, “The Empty Metropolis: Special Issue on Contemporary British Literature.” Neocha is pleased to present this English translation.

My first time in London, I seem to have gone by train. Of course I flew into Gatwick first, catching a train to Liverpool Street Station and changing there for a line to the suburbs, without getting out in London or seeing what it looked like. Only on the second day, now more relaxed, with my luggage and the more obvious indications that I was a traveler back at a friend’s place, did I officially set foot in the city. Such an experience is entirely different from getting off a plane and hurrying straight into town, lugging a suitcase and looking for your hotel, still reeling from the shock and the unfamiliarity.

So different, in fact, that the first thing I noticed about London were the chimneys. On the outskirts, each and every residential building, large and small, is crowned with a brick-red or pale-yellow stack, darkened to a coal black by years of smoke—a silent relic of the Industrial Revolution. As the train pulled into Liverpool Street Station, the tangle of tracks, taut wires, and cellular equipment converged onto a single path, and my ignorance of the place was lulled by a strange physical familiarity: if, on the outside, the station was an airy structure of brick and iron that set the tone for London’s past, on the inside it was just a dark tunnel lying at the end of some quiet country scenery. We entered, the sun disappeared for a moment, and the light in the car cast everything in a dimmer light, blurring and thickening the colors. Then daylight streamed through the glass ceiling again, and almost as if on command, everything returned to normal. The train slowed to a halt, the tunnel retreated out of sight, and a din of voices began to rise. Everything took on a hallucinatory quality, and only then did I understand the shadowy, mysterious train in that painting by J.M.W. Turner, or the terrifying trains of the films of D.W. Griffith. I could even imagine myself as a Dickensian apprentice from Northern England who had set out on a long journey to London to seek his fortune.

Sometimes how you arrive in a city matters more than your stay there. After that trip, I didn’t have much interest in describing London’s grandeur or desolation, which are all too evident. Endless pages have been written on the subject: nearly every angle has been covered ad nauseam, and usually exaggerated.

As the birthplace of urban modernity, London can of course easily satisfy your every need. It has the world’s most international language, a cultural life that never rests, politeness and reserve, antiquated buses still diligently making the rounds, people of diverse ethnicities living in their own class-marked districts—it seems to embrace and connect everything. Well-trained vegetation in parks and public spaces appears in moments of fatigue or heartbreak, while graffiti here and there flashes out like a dagger amid the order, faithfully striking a discordant note. . . .  All this is urban life we’re familiar with today. From Europe and America to Asia and Africa, streams of people are entering these orders and structures, as if on an assembly line. London is no longer unique—or rather, London simply preceded other cities.

In my trip I also arrived long after many others, and the surfeit of writing and attention given to the country may have subconsciously influenced me. In many modern countries and regions that bloomed late—including the relative laggard Spain, within Europe’s borders—travelers from afar have played a role, even a leading role, in the discovery of the local culture. Yet London’s story has been written mainly by its own people. One of them was Henry James (1843-1916), an American who settled in Britain and once described the capital as “the spoiled child of the world.” Keenly aware of the strict hierarchy, the extreme division between rich and poor, the bleakness of scraping by in the metropolis, he nevertheless stood by its side:

all England is in a suburban relation to [London] . . . It is the spoiling perhaps of the country, but it is the making of the insatiable town, and if one is a helpless and shameless cockney that is all one is obliged to look at. Anything is excusable which enlarges one’s civic consciousness. It ministers immensely to that of the London-lover that, thanks to the tremendous system of coming and going, to the active, hospitable habits of the people, to the elaboration of the railway-service, the frequency and rapidity of trains, and last, though not least, to the fact that much of the loveliest scenery in England lies within a radius of fifty miles—thanks to all this he has the rural picturesque at his door and may cultivate unlimited vagueness as to the line of division between centre and circumference. It is perfectly open to him to consider the remainder of the United Kingdom, or the British empire in general, or even, if he be an American, the total of the English-speaking territories of the globe, as the mere margin, the fitted girdle.

This haughty, exclusive veneration of cities runs through the entire nineteenth century—runs through continental Europe, and continues to influence us today. Yet this historical stage is hard to prolong, and in the city center there are crises everywhere you look: dreams of the countryside have never really come to the rescue, and empire’s boundaries are gradually vanishing. We twenty-first-century latecomers to London should learn to skirt around these illusions. After all, James also said the city was “as indifferent as nature herself to the single life.”

So it felt as though my detour around London, my unplanned commuter trip, opened up a sort of alternate space and time and whisked me down a different, accidental branch of road. On that road you can see how several small, belly-like mounds rise from the horizon at the border of town and country, how the light is refracted through the air in different ways on brick and glass, how road barriers, sandbags, fences, and debris alongside the tracks create a scene of utter desolation, how rows of warehouses, parking lots, and Lidl discount stores stand  guard on the city’s fringe, with trademarks and logos as their banners. You can see how, on the highways in the distance, shipping trucks outnumber cars, and near the villages people take leisurely rides on bicycles. You can see how every little stop on the way is almost identical, like a miniature version of the central station, with just two empty platforms. The British television series Philip K. Dick’s Electric Dreams has an episode that takes place in a station like this: when people reach a dead-end in their lives, they hop off the train there and just walk out toward the little villages in the open countryside. In this place, which appears on no map, time stops the moment before the tragedy occurs, offering a fresh beginning.

This story may not be so fictional: history really always does return. The new center and periphery are being hashed out even now, an issue our current generation needs to start to face. London, like any other large metropolis, no longer means a fixed location, and even if we persist in calling such places “centers,” they’re simply convenient transit points to somewhere else. They extend in countless directions, and even they themselves are in flight. This issue of One-Way Street has been a circuitous journey. We passed through London, entered Britain, and brought back five writers who had never been translated to Chinese. Their works are scattered like light in the open country: some are pressing toward the city center, some are wandering on the unglamorous edges of Europe, some of them are flying to the islands, and some have returned to Asia, where they were born.

Language and writing today, while cutting one path after another through modern life, have also reached a sort of impasse. We easily slip into talking just about love, loneliness, the lost meaning in our lives, ultimately repeating the same themes with only minor variations. Through the work of our British contemporaries, we can once again ask what the city center ultimately holds, and beyond the city, what broader, more distant spaces are possible. The “empty metropolis” of our title does not of course refer to a material emptiness, nor even a spiritual void, but rather to the fact that “urban consciousness” is no longer so ready-made, can no longer be summed up in such offhand Jamesian hindsight. We naturally assume these things are all close at hand, but the closer something is, the harder it is to describe.

Of the writers who have written about London, I’m particularly partial to Charles Lamb (1775-1834). Lamb spent his whole life in London, and his intimate familiarity with the city shows through in his words, though he often traveled farther afield, too, and was a sort of eternal outsider. He writes, “I had long been used not to rest in things of sense, had endeavored after a comprehension of mind, unsatisfied with the ‘ignorant present time,’ and this kept me up.” This spirit kept him up as he shouldered his small family’s heavy burden—his mentally ill sister murdered his mother—and the petty bourgeois life of a sensitive spirit seeking fame in London. “Endeavoring after a comprehension of mind” may also help buoy us as we find our own way.

London itself has countless byways, side streets that lie as far off the beaten path as the suburbs. For example, heading east from Whitechapel Gallery, in the eastern part of the city, through a largely South Asian and Middle Eastern area—historically this has always been an area of immigrants, and the earliest European migrants also settled here, giving a boost to the textile industry—you cross several parks, canals where boat dwellers moor, and cheap, modern residential areas . . . and scattered along the way you find several modern art galleries, where you sometimes can’t even find the door, and where no one pays you any attention anyway. Displayed inside are a series of self-regarding works of art about the status of women, the issue of refugees, lighting in prisons, car mechanics in Palestine, the rise and fall of the highbrow US journal The Partisan Review . . .

Incidentally, I finished writing this piece on yet another trip to London, and the experience of constantly arriving and departing has shown me that repetition, circulation, and movement can be also be a stimulus, a challenge, a creative process. Every departure is the origin of countless other departures. For One-Way Street, this is especially true: we’ve read Beijing, London, Australia—next we’ll travel to Latin America, to Scotland, to Ireland, to Africa.




吴琦 著



以至于我最先注意到的,是伦敦的烟囱,郊外大大小小的民居无一例外地顶着砖红、鹅黄的帽子,经年累月,它们大多泛出烟熏过的煤黑色,是往昔工业革命留在今天生活里的一种沉默的事物。然后火车再次驶入利物浦中央车站,许多条铁轨交错,和撕扯的电线、基站一起,逐渐汇成唯一的路,此时,一种奇妙的物理性的熟悉镇定着我其实对它的一无所知——如果从外面看,这座火车站是一个砖铁结构支撑的透明大棚,过去的伦敦从这里开始起搏,从里面看,它不过是一条暗黄色的隧道,埋伏在平静的田园风光的尽头。进站之后,自然光线先消失了一阵子,车里的灯把周围事物的颜色照得暗沉、混杂、滞重,然后天光再次透过玻璃屋顶照下来,突然就规矩许多,像接受了指令似的,速度停止,隧道退却不见,人声突然鼎沸起来,一切恍如幻觉。这时候我才理解特纳(J.M.W. Turner)画的氤氲神秘的火车,格里菲斯(D.W. Griffith)电影里令人惊惧的火车,或者回到狄更斯的小说,把自己想象成一个 19 世纪从英国北方赶了漫长的路来伦敦谋生的学徒。



我的旅程也落后于很多人,关于这个国家的“过度”书写和关注,可能潜意识里影响了我。不同于许多后发的现代国家和地区,包括欧洲境内相对滞后的西班牙,外来的旅行者都介入甚至主导了本土文化的发现,而伦敦的故事主要是由它的自己人书写的。亨利·詹姆斯(Henry James),这个移居英国的美国佬,也是其中之一,他形容伦敦是一个“世界宠坏了的孩子”,在清楚地意识到这里等级之森严、贫富分化之严重、都市生存之贫乏之后,他依然站在它那边:


这些霸道的、单一的对城市的崇拜,穿过了整个 19 世纪,穿过了欧洲大陆,至今主导着我们。但这个历史阶段在今天也难以为继了,城市的中心危机四伏,田园梦想从未真正为它解围,帝国的疆界也逐渐消,。我们这些 21 世纪迟迟赶到伦敦的人,应该学会绕开这些幻觉。毕竟这话也是詹姆斯说的,“它就像大自然本身一样对单个的生命漠不关心”。

于是我在伦敦绕道、通勤的无心之举,仿佛打开了另一个时空,进入了一条偶然的岔路。在这条路上,你会看到地平线是如何像不平坦的小腹一样在城乡之间形成不同形状的隆起,砖瓦和玻璃如何在空气中造成不同的光线折射,路障、沙袋、栅栏和废弃的杂物如何在铁路两边筑成断壁残垣,和联排的仓库、停车场、廉价的 Lidl 超市一起,护卫城市的边缘,各种商标和公司 logo,成为它们的旗帜。你会看到在远处的公路上,货车永远比汽车多,而乡间的近处,只有悠悠骑着自行车的人。你会看到沿途每个小的火车站几乎都一模一样,是中央车站的微缩版,只有两排空空的站台,英剧《菲利普·狄克的电子梦》(Philip K. Dick’s Electric Dreams)有一集就设定在这样的车站,许多人遇到生命的难关,都在这一站跳下火车,走向原野和原野之中的小镇,在这个地图上找不到的地方,时间会在悲剧发生前的那一刻停止,让一切重新来过。



在写过伦敦的作家中,我更偏爱查尔斯·兰姆(Charles Lamb)。他毕生生活在伦敦城中,对这座城市的亲近溢于言表,但他又时常游离在这一切之外,像是个永远的异乡人。他说,“长期以来,我习惯于不倚靠感性中的事物而追求内心的理解,从不满足于‘愚昧的现今’——正是这一点支持了我。”这种精神支持着他承担起自己小家庭的重担——患了精神病的姐姐杀死了自己的母亲,以及一个敏感的心灵在伦敦汲汲营营的小市民生活。“追求内心的理解”,也该可以支持我们自己独立去走一段路。

伦敦市内就有许多无数的“小路”,和郊区一样人迹罕至。比如从东区的白教堂画廊出发,一路往东,走过一段南亚、中东人聚集的地方——这里在历史上一直是移民区,欧洲其他国家的移民最早也住在这里,从而刺激了伦敦的纺织业,走过几座小公园、停着船家的河道、现代而廉价的住宅区,会发现许多现代画廊错落其间,有些甚至连门都找不到,进去了也没人理你,一些自言自语的艺术作品陈列在那里,讨论女性的地位、难民问题、监狱里光线的构造、巴勒斯坦的汽车修理工、美国知识分子杂志《Partisan Review》的兴衰……


Click here to go back to the original article on One-Way Street Magazine.


Author: Wu Qi
English Translation: Allen Young




Reading the World 阅读世界

May 22, 2019 2019年5月22日

Four times a year, a compact paperback with a simple cover hits Chinese bookstores, its pages filled with essays, notes, interviews, long-form nonfiction, book reviews, poetry and short stories by some of the most spirited voices from China and abroad. One-Way Street Magazine, as the quarterly is known in English—the Chinese name Dandu name might be translated as “independent reading” or “reading alone”—is a journal that thinks books and ideas are worth arguing about, and for the past ten years it’s created a small but vital space for intellectual debate. Highbrow but unpretentious, it’s a platform for opinions, articles of faith, and moments of doubt—in short, a public conversation about cultural life.

Printed on the cover of every issue is the journal’s English motto, “We read the world,” while underneath a line in Chinese adds: “A source for worldwide youth thought.” One-Way Street aims to put writers from around the globe in dialogue with their Chinese counterparts. “We’re a journal that grew out of a bookstore, and reading has always been our primary vehicle for knowledge,” says Wu Qi, the editor-in-chief. “And in a globalized age, we want the object of that knowledge to be the entire world.” Each issue ends with a handful of capsule reviews of new and noteworthy titles that haven’t yet appeared in Chinese. Recently they’ve covered books by Martha Nussbaum, Rachel Cusk, Timothy Snyder, and Teju Cole, among many others, and though there’s a distinct Anglophone bias, this section epitomizes the journal’s mission: to read deep and wide and to respond in a reflective, critical spirit.


印在每一期的封面是杂志的英文口号:“We read the world”(我们阅读世界),下方又用中文补充了一句“全球青年思想策源地” 。《单读》旨在为来自中国和世界各个地方的作家创造对话。主编吴琦解释道,“我们是在一家书店诞生的杂志,所以阅读始终是我们最重要的认知方式,而在一个全球化的年代里,我们希望我们认知的对象是整个世界。” 一如其名,每一期的结尾部分都有一系列短短的书评,评价一些国外惹人注目但还没翻译成中文的书籍,最近评价对象当中有玛莎·努斯鲍姆(Martha Nussbaum)、蕾切尔·卡斯克(Rachel Cusk)、蒂莫西·斯奈德(Timothy Snyder)和泰茹·科尔(Teju Cole )等著名作家。虽然略显侧重英文作家,但这个《全球书情》代表了杂志的宗旨:有广泛而深刻的阅读,以审慎而严谨的精神回应。

Wu Qi, the editor-in-chief of One-Way Street Magazine 吴琦,《单读》主编
Wu Qi, the editor-in-chief of One-Way Street Magazine 吴琦,《单读》主编

Before it was a journal, One-Way Street was a bookstore. In 2005, a group of journalists living in Beijing opened “Danxiangjie Tushuguan,” or One-Way Street Library, named after Walter Benjamin’s idiosyncratic collection of observations on early-twentieth-century life. The shop began hosting lectures and panel discussions, and it quickly made a name for itself as a meeting place for Chinese intellectuals. Four years later, in 2009, when the founders launched a publication—initially also called Danxiangjie—their events gave them a ready list of contributors.

“The bookstore made a point of inviting prominent people from every field to talk about cultural and social issues,” says Wu. “We wanted to create a space that was truly shared, and we very organically gathered people from the worlds of social thought and literature. They became the journal’s first contributors, and many of them, like Yan Geling, Liu Yu, Zhang Chengzhi, Li Yinhe, and Xiang Biao, went on to have a big impact on contemporary Chinese thought. From the very start, the journal was an attempt to create that shared space on paper.”

在成为杂志之前,“单读”原来是家书店。2005 年,北京一群记者创办了“单向街图书馆”,名字源自德国思想家瓦尔特·本雅明(Walter Benjamin以对二十世纪早期生活的观察写成的独特著作《单向街》。书店很早开始举办各种讲座和小组讨论,并迅速成为中国知识分子的聚会之地。四年后,在 2009 年,创始人推出了杂志,最初名为《单向街》,而曾经举办的这些活动也让他们积累了众多投稿作者。


After five issues released more or less once a year, in 2014 the journal began publishing on a quarterly basis and changed its name to Dandu, while the bookstore expanded to other locations in Beijing and changed its name to Danxiang Kongjian, or One-Way Space. Newer issues feature pull-quotes on the cover in both Chinese and English—a nod to the editors’ aspiration to engage the outside world beyond China’s borders. In fact, they now include a table of contents in English along with a short summary of each piece. “We want to introduce Chinese writers abroad, as well as to bring foreign writers in, and language is a barrier,” says Wu. “Hopefully one day we can publish a special issue in English.” To that end, the journal has begun collaborating with the Los Angeles Review of Books China Channel and Paper Republic to make some articles available in translation. Neocha is likewise pleased to include an exclusive English edition of Wu’s recent essay “Arriving in London” below.

直到 2014 年,前五期杂志(约一年一期)已经问世后,杂志便开始按季度发行,并更名为《单读》。与此同时,原来的书店也扩散到北京的其他地点,更名为“单向空间”。现在杂志封面上印上了双语引文,点明编辑促进中外交流的理念,里面也配上英文目录和英文摘要。“我们希望把中国作者介绍出去,也想把国外作者翻译进来,所以语言是一个很大的壁垒。希望有一天我们能出版英文特辑。”为此,杂志已经开始与《洛杉矶书评中华频道》(Los Angeles Review of Books China Channel)和线上文学翻译组织“纸托邦”(Paper Republic)合作,进行一些文章的翻译。在本文结尾,Neocha 也荣幸地刊登了吴琦的近期文章《进入伦敦》独家英文版本

“We want each issue’s theme to address current topics of discussion in contemporary Chinese society, and at the same time to have a deeper theoretical or intellectual background,” explains Wu. “Escape to the Future,” the most recent issue (no. 19), includes an interview with Yuval Noah Harari, along with essays by Jia Hangjia on the future of language, Lu Ye on technology, and Yu Wei on personal autonomy. Not every article or story takes up the topic; the themes don’t draw a border so much as give each issue a center of gravity. Others include “The Empty Metropolis (no. 18, special issue on British literature), “The Age of Anxiety” (no. 9), and “Is the Avant-Garde Dead?” (no. 2). They try to strike a difficult balance—timely but not ephemeral.

“每期主题我们都希望能够贴近当代中国社会正在发生的议题,同时又具有比较深渊的理论或者思想背景。”吴琦解释道。最新一期(第 19 期)“到未来去”,包括了与尤瓦尔·赫拉利(Yuval Noah Harari)的采访、贾行家谈论语言的未来、陆晔讲述科技以及于威有关个人自主权的文章。不是每一篇文章都必须符合杂志主题;主题不是要划定界限,而是成为每期杂志的重心。往期杂志还包括“都市一无所有”(第 18 期,英国文学专刊),“焦虑的年代”(第 10 期),和“先锋已死?”(第 2 期),他们在试图达到一种微妙平衡——主题要贴合时势,但不能转瞬即逝。

One-Way Street has a website, an app, podcasts, and WeChat and Weibo accounts, yet its heart is in print. In fact, the editors seem to regard the online world with a certain suspicion. “We’re children of Gutenberg,” wrote Xu Zhiyuan, one of the journal’s founders, and still its most widely known figure, in the introduction to the inaugural issue, back in 2009. “What we fell in love with was the stillness of reading alone under faint light, the logic that strings one sentence to another, the surprises between the lines. And staring at a computer screen, constantly interrupted by an MSN chat window, with messages coming one at a time, is hard to take.” This dedication to print is less an eccentric or nostalgic whim than an attempt to resist the distraction of online media. To read their stories, you can’t always go online—you have to get your hands on a paper copy, or at least an ebook. In an age when every smartphone is refreshed with trivial, mindlessly scrollable “content,” One-Way Street insists on a format that requires patience and attention.

《单读》有网站、手机 APP、音频,还开设了微信公众号和微博账号,但它心心念念的始终是平面印刷的杂志。事实上,编辑们是带着质疑来看待网络世界的。早在 2009 年,许知远(杂志创始人之一,也是最著名的公知人物)曾写道:“我们都是古登堡的孩子,我们钟情的是在昏黄的光线下,独自阅读的静谧,句子与句子的逻辑感,字里行间的意外。而对着电脑屏幕,不断被 MSN 对话框中断,从一个文本接到另一个文本的方式,实在令人难以忍受。”这种对平面印刷的执着不是一种古怪或怀旧的想法,而是在试图抵制令人无法专注的网络媒体。要阅读他们的文章,不能总是上网去浏览,而要时不时手握一份纸质的杂志,或至少一本电子书。在这个时代,当每个人的智能手机都充斥着可以无限滚屏但并无实质的碎片“内容”,《单读》坚守了一种要求人注入耐心和专注的方式。

With its slightly contrarian posture, the journal is what in China is called xiaozhong: it appeals to the “small crowd” because it deliberately goes against the mainstream. Its critical spirit offers an alternative both to the reigning consumerism and to the bland official values touted on posters across the country. It’s an insistent, bracing reminder that the world doesn’t have to be the way it is.

Yet in recent years the space for such independent voices in the public sphere has begun to shrink rapidly. “I never thought the changes would come so quickly and abruptly,” Wu admits, describing the shifting media environment. “Not just in the past 10 years, in the past five years, the atmosphere for publishing and for cultural critique has drastically changed. In general the space for speech has contracted, while materialism is on the rise.” Hemmed in by censorship and corroded by distraction, the public sphere itself is unrecognizably changed. This gives the early issues a certain poignance—and makes them seem unsettlingly prescient.



Looking back now, essays from those early years read like dispatches from a bygone world. In a piece from 2010 titled “A Slip of the Tongue,” which opens the second issue, Xu Zhiyuan laments how the advent of the digital age seems to have left intellectuals in China in a daze:

Over the past ten years, people have witnessed a technical revolution sweeping across the whole of society, bringing unprecedented public involvement and reshaping the social mood. Yet intellectuals have lost the ability to respond—there’s not so much as a single impassioned debate. A more powerful system has taken shape, and even though it seems free-wheeling and rowdy, firm control and anarchy can exist side by side. Most of the time people are happy in the system, and they can no longer clearly tell whether it benefits, implicates, or harms them, or all three at once.

How can I put these vague impressions into clearer words? A heavy shower has just fallen, the air is fragrant with grass and earth, and I have no clue where to begin.

It’s a lament and a call to arms: Xu urges intellectuals to make themselves heard on the public stage. And despite his professed impotence, his words here are themselves a beginning, as are his many other essays, along with the whole collective endeavor of the journal. One-Way Street is an attempt to reclaim a space for the intellectual in the Chinese public sphere.

As for Wu, the current editor, he’s far from pessimistic. “If you want to complain about something, that’s easy,” he says. “Yet if you’re really interested in publishing, in the media, in the culture of knowledge, then you just have to keep working no matter what. I see a lot of barren land that needs cultivating, so we have plenty of possibilities. You can’t give up on yourself too soon.”


Click here to read Neocha’s exclusive English translation of Wu Qi’s essay “Arriving in London,” from issue 18 of One-Way Street Magazine. Click here to visit the bookstore’s page on Taobao.

回过头来看,早年的文章读起来就像来自过去的一份份讯报。在 2010 年的第 2 期杂志一篇名为《失语》的文章,许知远感叹数码时代的来临令中国的知识分子陷入迷茫:

在过去的 10 年中,人们则又目睹了一场技术革命席卷全社会,它带来了前所未有的公众参与,也重塑了社会情绪。但知识分子已经失去了回应的能力,连一场热烈地争论都没有。一个更加强大的系统形成了,而且它看起来又是如此自由和喧嚣,牢固控制和无政府状态,可以并行不悖,  更多的时刻,人们乐在其中,人们也已经分不清楚自己是这个系统的受益者、参与者还是受害者,或者三者都是。




你还可以阅读吴琦撰写的《单读》18 期卷首语《进入伦敦》或者 Neocha 独家刊登的英文版点击这里前往单向空间的淘宝。

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Website: owspace.com
WeChat: dandureading
Weibo: ~/onewaystreet


Contributor: Allen Young
Photographer: David Yen
Chinese Translation: Olivia Li & Chen Yuan



网站: owspace.com
微信: dandureading
微博: ~/onewaystreet


供稿人: Allen Young
摄影师: David Yen
英译中: Olivia Li & Chen Yuan

Making Surreal Photo Collages 超现实幻想

May 22, 2019 2019年5月22日

This story is part of a content partnership and media exchange between Neocha and VSCO. VSCO’s membership program is designed to help you reach your creative potential. Take the next step in your creative journey by starting your free 7-day trial today and gain access to the complete VSCO preset library, the newest editing tools, and inspiring educational content.

Creating a collage encourages you to look at an image with fresh eyes, to see the possibilities. The following photographers view their photos as a starting point for further artistic innovation. Find out how they transform their images to make surreal artworks.

本篇文章来自新茶媒体合作伙伴 VSCO 的内容交换。VSCO 是一个专门帮助摄影爱好者发挥创造潜力的会员项目。现在就开启你的 7 天免费试用,获取完整的预设滤镜,以及新的编辑工具、视频编辑和教程内容。


Tan Ya / Singapore

Tan Ya / 新加坡

VSCO: What is it about these artworks that give them a surreal quality?

Tan Ya: The sense of displacement of the subject (myself) and the setting deliver a surreal visual impact. These works are part of my ongoing series An Everyday Thought, where I visually realize my journal reflections and observational sketches. My creative process is visceral and intuitive. Through experimentation, expectations and boundaries are blurred and buried, and the possibilities and space for new perspectives naturally open.

VSCO: 是什么赋予你的艺术作品这些超现实特质?

Tan Ya: 我想是通过我自己和布景互动的错置感,会产生超现实的视觉冲击力。这些作品是我正在进行的系列《每日思想》(An Everyday Thought)的一部分,这个系列延伸自我的日常生活反思和随笔画下的观察草图。我的创作过程是内在、直观的。通过实验,期望和界限被模糊和掩盖,自然而然就会产生新的视角。

VSCO: What is your process for creating these images?

Tan Ya: The initial inspiration for my creations originate from my sketchbook of everyday reflections, where text evolves into a scene and a drawing starts to narrate a story. Once a correlation of a mood is felt, I proceed to use my tripod and camera to tangibly recreate the drama in my mind. As it is an internal drama of self, the relevant subject is my own body and self.

Being a fan of collages and hands-on experimentation, I adapted this interest to Photoshop, where the magic of my storytelling commences with subject-play and the addition of a dialogue as the subtitle. After arranging the elements in the work, VSCO is the next go-to for my final colour-grading to liven the mood.

VSCO: 你创作这些图像的过程是什么?

Tan Ya: 我的创作灵感来自我的日常反思速写本,在这之中文字演变成场景,图画延展成故事。一旦我感受到某种情绪的关联性,我就会使用我的三脚架和相机来重现在我心中上演的小剧场。由于这是一部内心戏剧,主题就是我的身体和自己。

作为拼贴画和动手实验的粉丝,我把这样的喜好延续到 Photoshop 的工作上,那里是我创作照片中故事魅力的地方。最后我会加上一段对话作为副标题。在策划好作品的画面之后,下一步我就会到 VSCO 进行最后的调色以活化照片的气氛。

* Try this — Tan Ya’s collages often have repeating elements, like an eye that is copied from one part of the image and placed in additional locations. If creating a collage manually, print out multiples of the same photo. For even more options, experiment with printing the image at various sizes.

*试一试——Tan Ya 的拼贴画经常有重复的元素,例如同一双眼睛被复制到图像的其他位置。如果想要亲手制作拼贴画,请将相同照片打印出许多份,如果想要探索更多可能性,尝试以不同的尺寸去打印。

Jardel Fontenelle / São Paulo, Brazil

Jardel Fontenelle / 圣保罗,巴西

VSCO: What is it about these artworks that give them a surreal quality?

Jardel Fontenelle: Fantasy is a constant element in my collages. By inverting some of the photos, to mimic the look of a photo negative, and then merging multiple photos to create double exposures, I achieve unexpected results.

VSCO: 是什么赋予你的艺术作品这些超现实特质?

Jardel Fontenelle: 幻想是我的拼贴画中不变的元素。通过反转一些照片,模仿底片的外观,然后合并多张照片以创建双重曝光,我实现了许多意想不到的效果。

VSCO: What is your process for creating these images?

Jardel Fontenelle: I don’t base what I create on what other people will think, because when you want to make a unique collage you don’t want to be worrying about logic. Most of the time, if a photo contains something that takes the focus from a central point, I remove it. Right after, I choose a clean preset to enhance the colors in each of the pictures. Then I select my favorite ones and start overlapping them in Photoshop. Before I share the collage, I apply a VSCO preset on it. This trick can help you discover new colors.

VSCO: 你创作这些图像的过程是什么?

Jardel Fontenelle: 我不会在“别人会怎么想”的基础上去创作,因为当你想制作一个独特的拼贴时,逻辑不是你必须担心的问题。大多时候,我会删除掉照片中把焦点从中心转移到其他地方的东西。之后,我选择一个简洁的滤镜预设来强调颜色。然后我会选择我最喜欢的那几张照片,在 Photoshop 中重叠它们。在完成拼贴之前,我会将 VSCO 预设应用在上面,这个步骤可以帮助你发现新的色彩。

* Try this — When he isn’t editing and sharing new photos, Jardel uses the time between photo shoots to create collages with his older images. Go through your image library with the intent to re-purpose a selection of your photos. Look for themes in your work that may connect images, regardless of when the photos were created.

*试一试——当他没有在制作新照片时,Jardel 会使用旧图像来创建新的拼贴画。带着这样的目的去浏览图像库,无论照片是新是旧,都可以在之中找到有相互关联的主题。

Annahstasia Enuke / Los Angeles, California

Annahstasia Enuke / 加州洛杉矶,美国

VSCO: What is it about these artworks that give them a surreal quality?

Annahstasia Enuke: For me, what adds to the surreal quality of these images is the dynamic between my solitary figure and the empty surrounding in these photos. The lack of information about the spaces make it difficult to place my body within a context. The collage aspects pull the viewer further from any context and so the image becomes surreal.

VSCO: 是什么赋予你的艺术作品这些超现实特质?

Annahstasia Enuke: 对我来说,是孤独的我自己和照片中空白环境之间的动态关系,增添了超现实氛围。缺乏空间中背景信息,使我很难将身体放在一个故事脉络中。拼贴的做法也使得观众无法进一步获得更多上下文关系,图像因此变得超现实。

VSCO: What is your process for creating these images?

Annahstasia Enuke: I always start with a well-exposed photo. I don’t want to have to do any unnecessary tweaking since I edit all of these photos on my phone. The collage elements are things I’m always collecting. There are so many strange little things, signs, flowers, cars, people that can be snapped with your phone on a whim. If I see something cool that wouldn’t really stand alone in a photo, I collect it and save it for my next collage.

I collage everything in Adobe Photoshop Mix. It allows you to cut out the images and place them pretty easily. In some ways, it’s simpler than doing the same thing on the desktop version of Photoshop, plus it’s free. After the image is assembled, I’ll play with filters. I find that it helps tie all the layers together.

VSCO: 你创作这些图像的过程是什么?

Annahstasia Enuke: 我总是从一张曝光良好的照片开始。我会先在手机上编辑所有照片,在这之后我不会再做任何不必要的调整。拼贴素材是我一直在收集的东西。有许多奇怪的小东西:标志、鲜花、汽车,人们可以随心所欲地用手机拍照。如果我看到一些很酷的东西在照片中无法独立呈现,我就会为我的下一个拼贴画先保存它。

我会在 Adobe Photoshop Mix 中进行拼贴。它让你裁剪图像并重新布局。某些方面看来,它比桌面版 Photoshop 操作更简单,而且它是免费的。组装完图像后,我会玩一玩滤镜功能。我发现它有助于所有图层更好地融合在一起。

* Try this — Annahstasia suggests thinking about collaging like journaling — as a way of recording life. Try bringing the visuals from a full day into one collage or tie together moments from a whole year.

*試一試——Annahstasia 建议将拼贴想像成日记——作为一种记录生活的方式。尝试将一天中看到的东西整合在一张拼贴画中,或是把一年以来的瞬间收集在一起。

Art for Everyone 共享一面墙

May 20, 2019 2019年5月20日
Artist: Jaba / Photographer: Daniel Murray 艺术家: Jaba / 摄影师: Daniel Murray

Hong Kong’s Morris Hill neighborhood, dominated by government buildings and schools, is usually sleepy on weekends. Today, the gray, overcast sky adds to the stillness of the quiet Sunday morning, but the freshly painted walls are riotous and colorful, bursting with dynamic energy. Recently the city welcomed over 40 artists to participate in the week-long street art festival HKWalls, which is now in its 6th year. The paintings range from multi-story murals on major streets to human-scale paintings in side alleys. Some are abstract, some are hyperrealistic, some feature wallpaper-like floral patterns, and one even has a crocheted design woven into a chain-link fence.

香港的摩理臣山街区遍布政府大楼和学校,因而在周末往往显得静谧安祥。今天,灰蒙蒙的天空增添了星期天早晨的宁静,但新粉刷的墙壁五彩缤纷,充满了活力。最近,香港邀请了 40 多位艺术家参加为期一周的街头艺术节“HKWalls”,这已经是它走过的第六个年头了。这些画从大街上的墙绘到小巷中的人像画,应有尽有。抽象的、具象的、像墙纸一样的大花的,都有,还有一个甚至有编织成栅栏样的钩编设计。

Artist: Dezio / Photographer: Daniel Murray 艺术家: Dezio / 摄影师: Daniel Murray
Artist: Fluke / Photographer: Daniel Murray 艺术家: Fluke / 摄影师: Daniel Murray
Artist: Make and Do / Photographer: Ren Wei 艺术家: Make and Do / 摄影师: Ren Wei

The festival coincides every year with Art Basel Hong Kong, the Asian-edition of one of the world’s most famous art festivals. Street art and graffiti have long been a mainstay of Miami’s Art Basel, but until recently they were entirely unrepresented here. And that gap provided an opening for three enterprising people to create HKWalls.


Artist: Wing Chow / Photographer: Daniel Murray 艺术家: Wing Chow / 摄影师: Daniel Murray
Artist: Wing Chow / Photographer: Ren Wei 艺术家: Wing Chow / 摄影师: Ren Wei
Artist: Wing Chow / Photographer: Daniel Murray 艺术家: Wing Chow / 摄影师: Daniel Murray

“One day while drinking at a local bar, I was bitching about the kind of events street artists were being asked to do,” says Jason Dembski, who runs HKWalls along with his wife Maria Wong and partner Stan Wu. “It was like these people would hear graffiti or street art was cool and that it would make their party cool. They didn’t care about the art at all. So me and Stan were like, why not just start our own event? We decided it had to be around the time of Art Basel, or Art HK as it was called then. That’s when all the art is happening, and there’s nothing graffiti- or street art-related, so we saw a gap. And the parties are all about being on the list and VIP access, so we wanted to throw something anyone could come to.”

They went ahead and put together a small first event, collecting in-kind donations like some clothing, a few dozen cans of spray paint for the artists, and some beer—just enough to make it happen without spending too much money. And while only about a dozen artists participated in that first iteration and mainly worked on street-level pieces, it got a lot of attention because of how novel it was.

Jason Dembski 和妻子 Maria Wong 及搭档 Stan Wu 一起经营着 HKWalls,“有一天我在当地的酒吧里喝酒,正好在抱怨街头艺术家被请去参加的活动形式,就好像是人们觉得听到涂鸦和街头艺术很酷,所以请他们现身会让他们的派对更酷。那些活动举办方的人们一点也不关心艺术。所以我和 Stan 就想,为什么不开始我们自己的活动呢?我们决定它必须是大约在香港巴塞尔艺术展的时候,当时还叫 Art HK。那时候,所有的艺术形式都在发生,却没有涂鸦或街头艺术相关的,我们因此看到了一个缺口。而且派对都是关于邀请媒体和重要人物的访问,所以我们想提出一些任何人都可以参加的东西。”


Artists: Katol & Man Luk (Left), Neil Wang & Wong Ting Fung (Right) / Photographer: Daniel Murray 艺术家: KKatol & Man Luk (左边), Neil Wang & Wong Ting Fun (右边) / 摄影师: Daniel Murray
Artists: Katol & Man Luk / Photographer: Daniel Murray 艺术家: Katol & Man Luk / 摄影师: Daniel Murray
Artists: Neil Wang & Wong Ting Fung / Photographer: Daniel Murray 艺术家: Neil Wang & Wong Ting Fun / 摄影师: Ren Wei

HKWalls has since exploded in size and notoriety, but Dembski, Wong, and Wu still make cultivating local talent a priority. One-third of the artists are always locally based, another third are from around Asia, and the rest are from overseas. They also try to encourage Hong Kong artists who haven’t explored mural painting to give it a shot, since the scene is so small. Dembski estimates that there are about 40 people actively doing illegal street art or graffiti in the city, and another 20 to 50 artists who frequently work on sanctioned murals. Each year they try and move the festival around to different neighborhoods in order not to paint over too many pieces from previous years.

自那时起,HKWalls 在规模和知名度上都出现了爆炸式增长,但 Jason 和妻子 Maria 及 Stan Wu 仍然把培养本地人才作为首要任务。三分之一的艺术家总是在当地工作,另外三分之一来自亚洲,其余的来自海外。他们还试图鼓励那些没有探索墙绘涂鸦的香港艺术家们去尝试一下,因为这个圈子太小了。Jason 估计,在这座城市里,大约有 40 人在积极地从事非法街头艺术或涂鸦,另外有 20 至 50 名艺术家被允许可以在墙面上涂鸦。每年,他们都会尝试着把这个节日搬到不同的区域,这样就不会和前几年的墙绘重叠。

Artist: Zmogk / Photographer: Ren Wei艺术家: Zmogk / 摄影师: Ren Wei
Artist: Melancholy / Photographer: Ren Wei艺术家: Melancholy / 摄影师: Ren Wei
Artist: Yopey / Photographer: Ren Wei 艺术家: Yopey / 摄影师: Ren Wei
Artists: Kringe, Anhz, & Portls / Photographer: Daniel Murray 艺术家: Kringe, Anhz, & Portls / 摄影师: Daniel Murray
Artist: Jasmine Mansbridge / Photographer: Ren Wei 艺术家: Jasmine Mansbridge / 摄影师: Ren Wei

These days, HKWalls attracts brand sponsorships from around the world and the festival is able to fly artists in, put them up in hotels, give them hundreds of cans of paint, and provide the heavy equipment needed for large scale works. This year they even rented a three-story building where they hosted parties, workshops, and art shows.

HKwalls is a nonprofit organization, and while it’s a full time job for the three for a few months out of the year, they don’t make any money from it. But they’ve started a for-profit business to handle all the event requests they get asked to do as a result of their growing notoriety. And the connections they make through these side events are in turn relied on for HKwalls later, so each side of the business reinforces the other.

这些天来,HKWalls 吸引了来自世界各地的品牌赞助,也开始请艺术家们从各地飞来,并且给他们提供几百罐油漆,为大规模的作品提供所需的设备。今年,他们甚至租了一栋三层高的建筑,在那里举办聚会、讲习班和艺术展览。

HKWalls 是个非盈利组织,虽然他们三个人一年中的好几个月在全职工作,但他们并没有从中赚钱。如今他们已经开始了以营利为目的的公司,来处理那些声名鹊起后找上门来的生意。而他们通过这些随着 HKWalls 建立的联系,也加强了对 HKWalls 本身的名气,两者互惠互利。

Artist: Priscilla Yu / Photographer: Ren Wei 艺术家: Priscilla Yu / 摄影师: Ren Wei
Artist: UUendy / Photographer: Daniel Murray 艺术家: UUendy / 摄影师: Daniel Murray
Artist: Kwan Clan / Photographer: Daniel Murray 艺术家: Kwan Clan / 摄影师: Daniel Murray
Artist: Jaba / Photographer: Ren Wei 艺术家: Jaba / 摄影师: Ren Wei

HKWalls even partnered with the government this year, which allowed them to paint on institutional buildings. “The Hong Kong Design Center approached us, because they’re pushing certain areas as design districts, and they asked us to do our festival in Wan Chai. They were instrumental in helping us find walls and get equipment,” Dembski says. But there were also some downsides to government-sponsored art. “It worked very well, but there was some censorship, and bureaucracy occasionally got in the way. We definitely see the value in what they bring, though, and want to work with them again.”

Such issues are common in Hong Kong, and not just in government partnerships. “People can be quite conservative here, so content that might not be controversial in other places ends up being problematic here,” says Dembski, who moved here from the US ten years ago. “We’ve turned down walls because they wouldn’t accept what we wanted to give them. It’s always a give and take, and we’re always pushing for more freedom. So the walls where they say, ‘do whatever you want,’ those are what we really like. But they’re difficult to find.”

Plan out your route to check out this year’s stunning murals with the HKWalls Painting Map.

今年,HKWalls 甚至和政府合作,在公共建筑上作画成为可能。“香港设计中心找我们,因为他们把某些地区作为设计区来推销,他们要求我们在湾仔举办节日。他们在帮助我们寻找墙壁和获取设备方面发挥了重要作用。” Jason 说。但政府赞助的艺术也有一些不利之处。“它运作得很好,但有一些审查制度,有时官僚作风也会妨碍创作。但我们确实看到了他们带来的价值,并希望再次与他们合作。”

这些问题不仅仅是在政府的合作关系中,在香港也很普遍。“这里的人们可能相当保守,在其他地方可能不会引起争议的内容,在这里却会有。” Jason 说,他是十年前从美国搬到这里的。“假如一些愿意提供墙的人不同意我们的创作方向,我们会拒绝画墙。这是相互的过程,我们一直都在争取更多创意上的自由。如果有人愿意提供墙壁,并让我们自由发挥的话,这是我们最喜欢的,但这种机会很难找到。”

如果你想在今年亲眼看看香港的墙绘盛况,可以点击进入 HKWalls Painting Map 查看和计划你的行程。

Like our stories? Follow us on Facebook and Instagram.


Website: hkwalls.org
Instagram: @hkwalls
Facebook: ~/hongkongwalls


Contributor: Mike Steyels
Images Courtesy of HKWalls, Ren Wei & Daniel Murray



Website: hkwalls.org
Instagram: @hkwalls
Facebook: ~/hongkongwalls


供稿人: Mike Steyels
图片由 HKWalls、Ren Wei 与 Daniel Murray 提供

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Bizarre World 给你的脸穿上比基尼

May 17, 2019 2019年5月17日
A Bizarre World: Tea Shop Sensation (2018) 30 x 40 in / Acrylic on canvas 《A Bizarre World: Tea Shop Sensation》(2018) 76 x 102 厘米 / 布面丙烯

Horror, despair—and facekinis. Welcome to the mind of Du Qiurui, a painter and illustrator who has been offering an unusual perspective on the fast-changing landscape of China. Du uses bright colors and thick lines to portray ordinary people in overcrowded scenes, together with disturbing objects and terrifying demons. His paintings represent the underlying tensions of modern Chinese society in a convoluted way, with aspects of dark humor.

Du was born in Beijing in the early 1990s to a single mother, the CEO of a design firm who worked around the clock. She’d occasionally travel abroad for work, bringing him along to see new places. Mostly, though, Du was raised by his grandmother, listening to her extraordinary stories. As an introverted child, he relied on these stories, as well as comic books and movies, to keep him company. “My childhood was a combination of reality and fantasy,” he recalls, “I built an imaginary world for myself.”


杜秋锐出生于 20 世纪 90 年代初北京的一个单亲家庭,他妈妈是一家设计公司的首席执行官,总是夜以继日地工作,也偶尔会去国外出差,带他一起去看看新的地方。不过杜秋锐基本上是由他外婆抚养,听外婆讲许多奇妙非凡的故事。作为一个内向的孩子,他依赖这些故事、漫画书和电影作为陪伴。“我的童年是现实与幻想的结合体,”他回忆道,“我为自己建立了一个想象的世界。”

Spring Festival: Scenario 4 (2019) 24 x 36 in / Acrylic on canvas 《Spring Festival: Scenario 4》(2019) 61 x 92 厘米 / 布面丙烯
Spring Festival: Scenario 2 (2019) 24 x 36 in / Acrylic on canvas 《Spring Festival: Scenario 2》(2019) 61 x 92 厘米 / 布面丙烯
Spring Festival: Scenario 3 (2019) 24 x 36 in / Acrylic on canvas 《Spring Festival: Scenario 3》(2019) 61 x 92 厘米 / 布面丙烯
The Adventure of Dama Wang: Bus (2019) 20 x 20 in / Acrylic on canvas 《The Adventure of Dama Wang: Bus》(2019) 51 x 51 厘米 / 布面丙烯
Can You Hear Me Now? (2019) 20 x 20 in / Acrylic on canvas 《Can You Hear Me Now?》(2019) 51 x 51 厘米 / 布面丙烯

As a young adult, Du moved to New York City, motivated by his artistic aspirations and by mainstream media. He went there to experience the local art scene and to study at The Parsons School of Design. While there, his style became heavily influenced by Western comics and noir, until one of his professors, the acclaimed Taiwanese painter Mu Pan, encouraged him to turn his attention inward. Du then started to view his childhood and his hometown in a new light.

Du has lived his whole life against the backdrop of China’s dizzying economic development. His hometown, Beijing, has been thoroughly transformed, and each time he returns he finds a new skyscraper going up or another hutong torn down. Landmarks from his childhood now exist only in memory, while new technology has opened up new views of the world. Yet, some things have remained the same: society is still very controlled, hierarchical, and conservative. “As a kid born in the ’90s, I want people from my generation to see my works and think: I know that, I experienced that, I understand that,” says Du. His work became a way for him to connect to his generation.


杜秋锐一生都生活在中国经济高速发展的背景下。他的家乡北京早已日新月异,每次他回来,都会发现一座新的摩天大楼正拔地而起,又或者看见另一座胡同正被拆毁。他童年时代的地标现在只存在于记忆中,崭新的技术开启了对世界的新视野。然而,有些东西仍然是一样的:社会仍然是饱受控制,且依旧保守、等级森严。“作为一个 90 年代出生的孩子,我希望我们这一代人能看到我的作品,并思考:我知道,我经历,我理解,我明白。”杜秋锐说。他的作品成了他和他那一代人联系的方式。

The Adventure of Dama Wang: Peng-Ci (2019) 36 x 48 in / Acrylic on canvas 《The Adventure of Dama Wang: Peng-Ci》(2019) 92 x 122 厘米 / 布面丙烯
The Adventure of Dama Wang: Wandering Around (2019) 36 x 48 in / Acrylic on canvas 《The Adventure of Dama Wang: Wandering Around》(2019) 92 x 122 厘米 / 布面丙烯

In his latest series of paintings, A Bizarre World, Du depicts busy urban scenes with ordinary people expressing strong emotions: anger, fear, boredom, joy. Some of them are fixated on mobile phones; others are using disturbing accessories, such as facekinis (basically swimsuit balaclavas). “In the West, people think facekinis are really creepy, but Chinese women wear them because they don’t want to get tanned. I think that’s hilarious!” Du likes to explore the contrasts between east and west, and tradition and modernity, to create striking juxtapositions in his work.

在他的最新系列画作《A Bizarre World》(《奇异的世界》)中,杜秋锐描绘了繁忙的城市场景,普通人表达了强烈的情感:愤怒、恐惧、无聊、喜悦。他们中的一些人专注于手机;另一些人则用着令人观感不适的配饰,如脸基尼。“在西方,人们认为‘脸基尼’很恐怖,但中国女性因为不想被晒黑而穿着它们,我觉得这很好笑!”他喜欢探索东西方、传统与现代之间的差异,在作品中创造出鲜明的对比。

A Bizarre World: Scenario 3 (2019) 60 x 72 in / Acrylic on canvas 《A Bizarre World: Scenario 3》(2019) 152 x 183 厘米 / 布面丙烯

The most bizarre elements, such as green goblins and people-eating monsters, are oblique metaphors for the anxieties and fears of China’s twenty-somethings. Growing up in a confusing, contradictory world, this generation sometimes feels a stronger connection to people from elsewhere than to their own country. China can seem like a weird and nonsensical land. Du is also confused, and he often wonders: “Is it China that’s changed, or just me?”


A Bizarre World: Scenario 1 (2017) 60 x 72 in / Acrylic on canvas 《A Bizarre World: Scenario 1》(2017) 152 x 183 厘米 / 布面丙烯
A Bizarre World: Scenario 2 (2017) 60 x 72 in / Acrylic on canvas 《A Bizarre World: Scenario 2》(2017) 152 x 183 厘米 / 布面丙烯

Du now divides his time between Beijing and New York City, where he’s pursuing his Masters in Painting and Drawing at the Pratt Institute. He’s doing research on the LGBT community and intends to explore this topic through his artwork. This is another latent issue for young Chinese people. Viewers should expect the usual dose of horror and dark humor.

杜秋锐现在在北京和纽约两地工作,在普瑞特艺术学院攻读绘画硕士学位。他正在做关于 LGBT 群体的研究,并打算通过他的作品探索这个话题。这是中国年轻人面临的另一个隐藏的问题。观众将会看到杜秋锐往常作品中惯有的恐怖和黑色幽默。

Spring Festival: Scenario 1 (2019) 24 x 36 in / Acrylic on canvas 《Spring Festival: Scenario 1》(2019) 61 x 92 厘米 / 布面丙烯

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Website: duqiurui.com
Instagram: @qiuruidu

Contributor: Tomás Pinheiro
Chinese Translation: Chen Yuan

网站: duqiurui.com
Instagram: @qiuruidu

Contributor: Tomás Pinheiro
Chinese Translation: Chen Yuan