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Gallery Graffiti 画框中的涂鸦墙

May 3, 2019 2019年5月3日

Sometimes artists’ own stories show through in their art. Chen Xuanrong is a Beijing-based artist who uses acrylic paint to create graffiti-like works on huge canvases. The result is a vigorous fusion of styles and techniques that tells the story of an artist who, though raised in the art world, struggled for years to find his place there.

Born in 1991 to a family of artists, Chen faced an unusual kind of parental pressure for success. His mother was a dance teacher, while his father, Chen Zhiguang, was a prominent sculptor who exhibited at notable galleries around the world and became known as the “King of Ants” for his gigantic sculptures of these insects.


有时候,艺术家的故事会通过他们的艺术展现出来。陈轩荣是一位居住在北京的艺术家,擅长在巨大的画布上使用丙烯颜料创造出类似涂鸦的作品。他的创作风格与技巧兼具,之中还隐隐道出一个故事——关于一个在艺术世界中成长、却挣扎着寻找定位的艺术家。

于1991年出生在一个艺术世家,陈轩荣从小面对着一种来自父母、关于追求成功不同于寻常的压力。他的母亲是一名舞蹈老师,而父亲陈志光是一位杰出的雕塑家,曾经在世界各地的著名画廊展出,并因其巨大的昆虫雕塑,被称为“蚂蚁之王”。

Growing up in this environment, Chen started studying art in high school. He admits that it took a few years for him to actually enjoy it. “I didn’t really like art at first, but as I painted and made some progress, it started to grow on me,” he recalls. At first, his motivation was merely to pass his exams to get into a good art school, which he did: he earned a spot studying printmaking at the prestigious Central Academy of Fine Arts in Beijing. While there, he won several art prizes, which pleased his parents immensely.

After graduation, Chen traveled to New York City to immerse himself in the art world. He wanted to see the works of great masters that hang on the walls of the city’s museums, particularly Velázquez and Rubens. All throughout his school years, his books, teachers, and classmates held up these painters as paragons of artistic expression. Xuanrong repeatedly visited the same institutions, studying the masterpieces intently and taking photos to continue to analyze them back in his hotel room. “After two weeks I felt sick of all these masters,” he recalls. Something wasn’t quite right.


在这种环境中长大,陈轩荣在高中开始学习艺术。他承认是在过几年后才真正享受它。“起初我不喜欢艺术,但是当我画画获得一些进展时,我就渐渐喜欢上它了。”他回忆道。一开始,他的动机仅仅是通过考试进入一所好的艺术学校,然而他做到了:他在北京著名的中央美术学院学习版画。在那里他先后赢得了几个奖项,这让他的父母非常高兴。

毕业后,陈轩荣前往纽约,将自己沉浸在艺术世界中。他的愿望是看到挂在博物馆墙壁上那些伟大大师的作品真迹,尤其是维拉斯奎兹(Velázquez)和鲁本斯(Rubens)。在校期间,所有教科书、老师和同学都把这些画家视为艺术表达的典范。陈轩荣多次访问同一间博物馆,专心研读这些杰作,拍下照片回到酒店房间继续研究。“两周后,我却对这些大师作品感到厌倦了。”他回忆道。事情,开始有点不太对劲。

G1.0.3.9 (2018) 55 ⅒ x 82 ⁷/₁₀ in / Acrylic on canvas 《G1.0.3.9》(2018) 140 x 210 厘米 / 布面丙烯
G1.0.4.9 (2018) 55 ⅒ x 82 ⁷/₁₀ in / Acrylic on canvas 《G1.0.4.9》(2018) 140 x 210 厘米 / 布面丙烯
G2.0.0.6 (2018) 94 ½ x 118 ⅒ in / Acrylic on canvas 《G2.0.0.6》(2018) 240 x 300 厘米 / 布面丙烯
G1.0.4.6 (2018) 59 ⅒ x 78 ⁷/₁₀ in / Acrylic on canvas 《G1.0.4.6》(2018) 150 x 200 厘米 / 布面丙烯
G1.0.3.6 (2018) 59 ⅒ x 78 ⁷/₁₀ in / Acrylic on canvas 《G1.0.3.6》(2018) 150 x 200 厘米 / 布面丙烯

As it turned out, Chen’s hotel was located in Queens, a district with a rich tradition of street art. On his commute, he’d take the 7 train, which runs above ground for much of the way, revealing different views of the city. Bit by bit, he started noticing how several buildings were covered with stunning graffiti, creating striking urban compositions. While exploring Queens, he visited 5 Pointz, an abandoned factory complex that, until its demolition in 2014, was a graffiti Mecca. “When I first got there I was shocked. The colors, the lines . . . none of the old masters used simple lines and pure colors like that.” It was a defining moment, and his attention began to drift away from the walls of the museums to the walls on the streets around him.


陈轩荣的酒店位在皇后区,这是一个富含街头艺术文化的街区。他通勤时经常乘坐地铁7号线,运行路线大部分都在地上,可以看到城市中各种不同的样貌。他开始注意到那些被涂鸦覆盖的建筑物,是如何勾勒出令人惊奇的都市景色。在探索皇后区时,他参观了被称为“涂鸦圣地”的 5 Pointz,这是一个废弃的工厂集合地,直到2014年被拆除。“当我第一次到那里时,我感到好震惊。这些颜色、线条… 没有一个大师画家使用过这样简单的线条和纯粹的颜色。”这是一个决定性的时刻,他的注意力开始从博物馆的展示墙,转移到他周围街道的涂鸦墙上。

Chen started to absorb street elements and combine them with what he’d learned in school. He began making paintings of the urban environment: walls, alleys, public toilets, abandoned train wagons, and empty pools, all covered in graffiti. Taking works created with spray cans and markers and reproducing them in acrylic on canvas on a large scale—his works are up to three meters wide—became his signature. He now has over 50 pieces that relate to each other as if they came from different sites in the same“graffiti town,” though they’re taken from locations all around the globe.

When he travels, Chen rides the metro and gets out at random stations to explore, hoping to find graffiti art. He constantly takes pictures to have enough material to work with when he gets back to his studio in Beijing. He also looks for interesting locations online, particularly on Instagram. When he reaches a location he’s only seen online, it often look completely different. Yet it’s never a disappointment. “I like how graffiti art changes frequently, how it gets dirty—these are the effects of time,” he says. In his own paintings, he also uses multiple layers, showing old graffiti covered by new. “One of my paintings was shown in an exhibition in Shanghai, and when it was returned to me, I felt the urge to cover it with another layer.”


陈轩荣开始吸收来自街头的创作养分,并与他在学校所学的东西结合起来。他开始画下那些覆盖着涂鸦的城市景观:墙壁、小巷、公共厕所、废弃的火车车厢和空荡荡的游泳池。把这些用喷漆罐和马克笔创作的作品,重现在大规模的帆布上——他的作品通常宽达三米,成为他为人所知的标志。他现在有超过50件作品,相互关联,仿佛它们都出自同一个“涂鸦小镇”。不过,这些作品都取材自世界各地。

当他旅行时,他会乘坐地铁,在随机一站下车去探索城市,希望能找到涂鸦艺术。他会拍摄许多照片,确保回到北京的工作室时手上会有足够的素材。他也会在网上寻找有趣的地点,特别是在 Instagram 上。当他真正去到当地,现实往往看起来不太一样,但这种落差并不会让他感到失望。“我喜欢涂鸦艺术的变幻无常,它如何变脏,如何受到时间的影响。”他说。他的画作通常是多层次的,展示了旧的涂鸦被新的覆盖。“有一次,我的一幅画作在上海的展览中展出,当它被归还给我时,我马上感觉到一股冲动想用另一层画盖掉它。”

Chen likes to explore areas with graffiti when nobody is there, so that he can observe them properly. “I enjoy the feeling of having the entire place for myself. There’s a strange feeling of mystery,” he explains. He never portrays people in his works: the canvases are populated exclusively by the remains of the scribblings, stickers, and tags left there over time by different people, culminating in a grand chaotic montage.

Human figures would distort what he seeks to portray: an urban landscape of concrete and brick and spray paint. Chen’s works hang on the walls of museums, just like the works of the masters he was compelled to study. Bridging the gap between graffiti and galleries, he’s staked out a place in the art world that’s distinctively his.

 

To keep up to date with upcoming exhibitions or works from Chen Xuanrong, visit Art+ Shanghai Gallery.


陈轩荣特别喜欢在四下无人的时候探索这些涂鸦,才能够适当地观察它们的全貌。“我喜欢这种自己拥有整个地方的感觉,有一种奇怪的神秘感。”他解释道。他也从不在他的作品中描绘人物,因为这并不是他想要捕捉的东西——城市中的混凝土、砖墙和喷漆才是。

最终,画布完全被由不同的人随着时间留在那里的涂鸦、贴纸、和标记的遗迹所填满,形成一个万花筒般混乱斑斓的巨型蒙太奇。陈轩荣的作品挂在博物馆的墙上,就像当初他被迫学习的那些大师作品一样。作为牵系起涂鸦和画廊之间的桥梁,他在艺术世界中占据了一个与众不同的地位。

 

想持续关注陈轩荣的展览和作品信息,可点击浏览艺术+上海画廊官网

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Contributor: Tomas Pinheiro
Photographer: Irina Kovalchuk
Translation: Yang Yixuan
Additional Images Courtesy of Chen Xuanrong


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供稿人: Tomas Pinheiro
摄影师: Irina Kovalchuk
英译中: Yang Yixuan
附加图片由陈轩荣提供

Gabber Modus Operandi 我们是危险的年轻人

May 1, 2019 2019年5月1日

Warning: do not click play on Gabber Modus Operandi’s music until you’ve had at least one cup of coffee. This Bali-based electronic duo is proudly abrasive, pummeling audiences with a sound that’s like something drained from the sewers of death metal or the gutters of rave music. GMO’s music doesn’t fit into any category, and there’s nothing quite like their style. They constantly veer into new territories, and listeners who brave the onslaught are rewarded with fresh sound pallets and surprisingly intricate textures. There are even drums and melodies pulled from local Indonesian traditions, and the combination is seamless.

Ican Harem and Kasimyn, the duo behind Gabber Modus Operandi, are deeply engaged in Indonesia’s wealth of musical traditions. They’re inspired by everything from traditional gamelan to newer genres like penceng, a sound driven by endless solos played on cheap keyboards at frantic speeds. Harem handles the vocals, while Kasimyn takes care of production.


警告:点击播放 Gabber Modus Operandi 的音乐前,请确保你已至少喝了一杯咖啡。巴厘岛电音二人组我行我素的音乐风格,似是脱胎于地下死亡金属或锐舞(rave)音乐,为观众的耳鼓带来震撼冲击。GMO 的音乐不属任何流派分类,也很难找到与之类似的音乐风格。他们不断探索新的音乐领域,只有勇于接受他们音乐洗礼的听众,才能领略到前所未有的新颖音乐风格和出人意料的复杂层次。他们甚至糅合了印尼当地的传统音乐中的鼓乐和旋律,无缝融入到音乐创作中。

Gabber Modus Operandi 的两位成员 Ican Harem 和 Kasimyn 都对印尼大量的传统音乐有着深深的着迷。他们的创作灵感丰富多样,从传统甘美兰(gamelan)音乐到新兴音乐流派,如 penceng ——无数疯狂快节奏的键盘音乐独奏。二人中,Harem 处理人声,而 Kasimyn 则负责后期制作。

Listen to to some of our favorite tracks from Gabber Modus Operandi below:


点击即可试听 Gabber Modus Operandi 的几首歌曲:

When they’re not composing or performing, the two scour the internet looking for sounds and subcultures that are both intensely local and globally informed. “There’s a suburban culture called Alay, where they love traditional music but also street racing on motorcycles,” they explain excitedly. “They have their own language. They’re trying to be Western, but it’s mistranslated and as a result thoroughly Indonesian. So instead of customized motorcycles, we get these maximalist, improvised scooters, because that’s what’s available here.” GMO’s Instagram is full of pics showing expressions of Indonesian identity that are equal parts ingenious and absurd.


没有创作或表演的时候,二人就会在网上搜索各种有着本地和全球特色的音乐和亚文化。“有一种郊区文化叫 Alay (印尼语,意为“浮夸”),这群人既热爱传统音乐,也喜欢摩托车街头赛车。”他们兴奋地解释道,“他们有自己的语言,想模仿西方的文化,但又因为错误的理解,最终变成印尼特色的文化。他们并没有改装重型机车,只有浮夸、凑合用的踏板摩托车,因为在这里你只能找到这些了。”GMO 的 Instagram 帐号上发布了很多有印尼亚文化的代表性照片,这些照片既充满创意又有着一丝荒谬感。

GMO’s music draws on this blend of subcultures. They mix the unrelenting drums of gabber, a style of electronic dance music popularized in the 1990s in Holland, with the mutilated vocals of heavy metal and the droning screeches of experimental noise, and to that they add the traditional melodies of gamelan, sampled from the radio or from their neighbors, and touches of a local dance music called funkot. There’s a beautiful give-and-take of roving styles, one that’s particularly suited for Indonesia, a country with a rich and diverse musical history. The result is a sound that’s all its own.

The pair stresses that there are probably other people mixing these traditions, given the thousands of islands in Indonesia, even if they’re unaware of them. Uwalmassa, a group from Jakarta, also blends gamelan with modern club music, but in a much sleeker way and with a deeper sound. Back in the 1990s, Barakatak fused West Javan music with house, while the ketipung rhythm of koplo (a regional version of live pop) introduced 4/4 time to local styles of music. And more recently, in 2010, Senyawa released rhythmic experimental music rooted in the Indonesian experience. “Senyawa really opened our minds to the idea that it’s okay to be Indonesian. It’s okay to speak our languages, it’s okay to present the dark side of things here,” they say. “We’re really only in the beta phase of DIY Indonesian music right now.”


他们的音乐借鉴了这种混合的亚文化,融合了 20 世纪 90 年代在荷兰普及的电子舞曲 gabber、重金属音乐的人声部分、实验性噪音的尖锐声音,然后再加入他们从收音机或邻居处采样的甘美兰传统旋律,以及当地的舞蹈音乐 funkot。他们的音乐充满着令人着迷的多元融合风格,也特别适合印尼,因为这是一个拥有丰富多元的音乐历史的国家。这种融合的最终成果是一种独一无二的音乐。

两人强调,可能在印尼,也有其他人在结合传统音乐创作,只是他们不知道罢了,毕竟这是一个“万岛之国”。来自雅加达的组合 Uwalmassa 在他们的音乐中同样融合了现代的俱乐部音乐和传统甘美兰音乐,但是风格更流畅、更深沉。而早在上世纪 90 年代,另一支乐队 Barakatak 就曾经混合西爪哇音乐和 House 音乐,此外,koplo 音乐也进一步推广了 4/4 拍节奏。在 2010 年,印尼实验组合 Senyawa 就曾推出充满印尼音乐特色的节奏感实验音乐。“Senyawa 的音乐让我们真正明白到,印尼风的音乐也可以很棒,印尼语也创作出好的音乐,我们是可以通过音乐来展现出印尼这个国家不那么光彩的一面的。我们现在还只能算是在 DIY 印尼音乐的试验阶段。”他们说。

“Underground music here is all basically imported,” they explain. “When we do play out, we play to crowds that are maybe all punk rockers or mainly familiar with noise music. But these locals experimenting in the other scenes are quite different, and we’re a bit jealous. They don’t really have the funds to travel or experiment with a bunch of electronic gear, but they push the tools they have as far as they can go and have fun with it, creating something brand new. That’s what really inspires us.”

As for traditional music, they see three different attitudes in Indonesia: “One is really sacred, and it relates to the kingdom family and celebrates the idea of religion. It’s a strict set of rules. Then there’s the stuff they play for tourists, like at the airport. Elevator gamelan, basically. Then there’s a third one, the hybrid. Kids who listen to death metal but also gamelan. The last one is our favorite. The contrast makes us really happy. It’s a political identity, they’re comfortable with what they have.”


“这里的地下音乐基本上都以外国音乐为主。”他们解释说,“当我们在外面表演时,观众可能全是朋克摇滚爱好者,或大部分都是熟悉噪音音乐的。但是,有一群印尼音乐人,他们在进行自由的实验创作,我们真的特别羡慕他们。虽然他们没有太多资金去旅行或用一大堆电子音乐设备进行创作,但他们能够将手上的工具物尽其用,尽情享受过程中的乐趣,去创造出一些全新的音乐。这真的给了我们很大的鼓舞。”

至于传统音乐,他们在印尼看到有三种不同的分类:“一种是比较神圣的音乐,因为这些传统音乐会涉及到古代皇室和宗教。有一套严格的规则。第二种就是为游客演奏的传统音乐,譬如在机场的时候,基本上可以称为‘电梯甘美兰音乐’。最后,第三种就是融合风格的传统音乐。对于喜欢听死亡金属音乐又喜欢听甘美兰的人来说,最后一种是我们的最爱,不同风格的音乐之间的对比碰撞听起来很过瘾。这代表了一种政治态度,他们对自己所拥有的一切感到心满意足。”

The duo manages to fit all these disparate influences into a sound that expresses their personal identity, an identity that’s angry and sarcastic, but also thoughtful and refined. Everything they write is microtuned into the pentatonic scale. And while some of their lyrics sound sacred, in one case they’re actually mimicking local street vendors who peddle snake oil. “We want to break stereotypes,” they announce proudly. “We’re dangerous and young.”


乐队的两位成员设法将这些不同的影响融合成一种能表达他们个人身份的音乐,一种充满愤怒和讽刺,同时不失思考和精致的态度。他们所创作的音乐都处理成五声音阶的“微分音”音乐。虽然他们的一些歌词带有神圣感,但有时他们实际上只是在模仿当地街头小贩兜售蛇油的叫声。“我们要打破陈规,我们是危险的年轻人。”他们自豪地宣布。

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Instagram: @gabbermodusoperandi

 

Contributor: Mike Steyels
Photographer: Oktavian Adhiek Putra
Chinese Translation: Olivia Li


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Instagram: @gabbermodusoperandi

 

供稿人: Mike Steyels
摄影师: Oktavian Adhiek Putra
英译中: Olivia Li

Room for Debate 我有话要说

April 22, 2019 2019年4月22日

Click here to read the uncut international version of this article.

Not just a bookstore, not quite a library, more than a restaurant or bar: what exactly is the Beijing Bookworm? Its motto, “Eat, Drink, Read,” offers a straightforward set of principles, but even a quick stop by this legendary institution makes clear that it’s more than just a place to—in either sense—get lit. The Bookworm buzzes with intellectual energy, attracting novelists, academics, foreign correspondents, and book lovers of all stripes who come by to meet friends or hear a talk by a scholar passing through. It’s the center, or one of the centers, of English-language cultural life in China’s capital, and throughout the year, its lectures, concerts, and children’s story hours draw expats and locals alike.

Without a doubt, the highlight of all this activity is the annual Bookworm Literary Festival, which this March wrapped up its twelfth year. Every spring, speakers come from around the world to talk about literature, politics, current affairs, technology, business, art, and anything else people write books about. Highlights from this edition included Kai-Fu Lee on AI, Leta Hong-Fincher on gender equality, and Helen Zia on Shanghai on the eve of the Communist revolution. Spittoon, a literary collective, organized a series of sessions on Chinese literature, featuring poets and fiction writers reading excerpts of their work while their translators discussed the challenges of bringing the texts into English.


 点击这里阅读文章未经删节的国际版。

不是纯粹的书店,也称不上是图书馆,更不只是餐厅或酒吧:究竟要怎样定义北京老书虫这个略带传奇色彩的地方?它的座右铭“吃、喝 、读”直截了当地表明了这个空间的原则。但只要一踏入老书虫你就能发现,这里不只是一个让你寻乐酣饮、或单纯埋首书堆的地方。北京老书虫充满着蓬勃的知识氛围,吸引着小说家、学者、外国记者、各种书籍爱好者前来与好友相聚、或是听某位学者举办的一场演讲。这里曾是北京英语文化生活的中心之一,常年举办的各种讲座、音乐会和儿童故事活动都深受外国人和当地人的欢迎。

而在这些所有活动中,最大的亮点是一年一度的老书虫文学节(Bookworm Literary Festival)。在今年三月,北京老书虫刚刚结束第十二届的文学节。每逢春季,来自世界各地的学者来到这里,一起谈论文学、政治、时事、科技、商业、艺术等话题。今年的亮点包括李开复讲述人工智能的讲座,Leta Hong Fincher(洪理达)谈论性别平等、作家谢汉兰讲述解放前夕的上海。北京的文学杂志《Spittoon》还在此组织了一系列中国本地文学的活动,邀请诗人和小说家阅读他们作品的节选,而这些作品的译者也前来分享翻译途中所遇到的挑战。

The Bookworm first opened its doors in 2005, but its origins go back a few years further, to a sort of informal lending library that Alexandra Pearson, a British woman living in Beijing, slowly amassed as departing friends from abroad gave her the books they couldn’t ship home. Pearson also organized talks by experts on various topics at Le Petit Gourmand, the French restaurant she helped run in Sanlitun, Beijing’s embassy and nightlife district. But when her library outgrew her apartment, and the restaurant had to close to make way for the Taikoo Li mall, some of her friends suggested she give her titles a permanent home—a place for eating, drinking, reading, and above all for talking about anything and everything related to China.


北京老书虫从 2005 年开始营业,它的真正起源可以再往前几年追溯到一个私人借阅图书馆。当时,来自英国的 Alexandra Pearson 来到北京生活,有许多外国朋友在离开北京时常常将一些无法寄回家的书留给她,慢慢地她积累了越来越多的藏书。与此同时,Alexandra 还在一家她参与运营的法国餐厅 Le Petit Gourmand 组织各类主题的专家讲座。这家餐厅位于北京三里屯,是外国大使馆和夜生活中心所在。但是,随着藏书逐渐超出了她的公寓所能容纳的数量,加上新建的太古里商场令餐厅被迫关闭营业,她的一些朋友建议她给自己的藏书一个永久的家,一个可以“吃、喝、读”,更重要的是,一个可以供人们谈天论地、讨论一切有关中国话题的地方。

That home, in a second-story space amid a clutch of international bars and restaurants in Sanlitun, consists of a café area with a full menu and eight beers on tap, an event space off to the side, and a small bookstore in the back, with a rooftop terrace up above overlooking the neighboring buildings. The walls are lined in books, but most of them aren’t for sale: the Bookworm still runs a library, with over 20,000 titles for a few hundred members. “A lot of storytellers, a lot of intellectuals, a lot of people who have a relationship to books, and to Beijing, come here looking for a place to call home,” says Karen Tong, who manages the Bookworm’s events. “It’s fun, it’s chill, and it’s a bit retro.” Pearson moved away several years ago, and now two of the other original investors, Peter Goff and David Cantalupo, run the space and the festival.


而这个“家”,最终落脚在一幢二层建筑楼里,藏匿于三里屯林立的国际酒吧和餐馆中。店内包含了一个拥有完整菜单和 8 种桶装啤酒的餐饮空间,一个活动展演空间,还有在后方的一个小书店,以及一个可以俯瞰邻近建筑的屋顶露台。店内的墙壁一字排开摆满书籍,但其中大部分都是非卖品:北京老书虫仍然管理着一家图书馆,拥有超过两万多本藏书,数百名会员。北京老书虫的经理 Karen Tong 说:“很多小说家、知识分子、爱好读书和喜欢北京的人都喜欢到这里来,在这里他们能获得归属感。这是一间很有趣、很酷的店,还有点复古气息。”几年前在 Alexandra 搬走后,就由另外两位原始投资者 Peter Goff 和 David Cantalupo 管理着这个空间和组织文学节。

Karen Tong
David Cantalupo
Peter Goff

Since 2007, the Bookworm has put on a festival every year except one: in 2017 the sponsorship fell through, and the organizers decided to take a much-needed break. It fluctuates in size, and they chose to keep the 2019 edition manageable—and even so, it spanned two weeks. “The festival remains extremely influential and popular,” says Cantalupo. “We’ve never had a big corporate sponsor, so we’ve always run it on a shoestring.”

How does a handful of people manage to put on such an exceptional event? “We’ve been an important part of the international cultural scene here,” says Cantalupo. That helps them get sponsorship from embassies and other international institutions: Ireland, Australia, and France supported this year’s event, while the main financial backing came from international schools. Another factor is the tenacity of the owners, Goff in particular, who, in the face of financial and other pressures, continues to invite high-profile speakers.


从 2007 年以来,北京老书虫每年都会举办文学节。除了 2017 年之外,因为当时赞助告吹,加上主办方急需休息调整。文学节的规模时大时小,浮动很大, 2019 年他们决定将规模控制在可以应付的范围内。即便如此,这次的文学节也整整跨越了两周时间。“这个文学节一直非常有影响力,也很受欢迎。” David 说:“我们从来没有过大型的商业赞助商,所以在运营上一直都比较节制。”

如何依靠这么少的工作人员,就成功组织出如此精彩的活动?David 说:“我们可以说是本地国际文化氛围的重要组成分子。”因此,他们获得了大使馆和其他国际机构的赞助,今年有来自爱尔兰、澳大利亚和法国的赞助商,但主要的经济支持来自于国际学校。另一个成功的重要因素是老板们,尤其是 Peter。尽管面临着财务和其他方面的压力,他仍然坚持邀请各种著名的演讲家来参加文学节。

In the decade and a half since the Bookworm opened its doors, the surrounding Sanlitun area has been torn down and rebuilt. Shops and apartment blocks have given way to sprawling retail complexes, and now the area feels less like a neighborhood than a collection of international malls. Just a few yards away from the Bookworm, the Intercontinental Hotel towers above, a purple light show dancing across its honeycomb façade like a screensaver.

China has changed, too: in 15 years the economy has quintupled in size, and the country has become more tightly linked to the rest of the world. As a space for discussion and exchange, the Bookworm plays an ever more vital role. It’s one of the places where China meets the world—to eat, drink, read, and talk.  That’s something to raise a glass to.


从北京老书虫 15 年前开业至今,三里屯周边地区已被拆迁重建。商店和公寓楼已让位给庞大的购物中心。现在,这里已经不再是充满生活气息的街区,而更像是各种国际商场的集中地。距离北京老书虫不远处是高耸的洲际酒店,紫色的灯光秀像一个屏幕保护程序,在它的蜂窝状外墙上跳动着。

中国自此也不一样了。15年来,中国的经济规模已经成长了五倍,与世界其他国家的联系也更紧密。作为一个讨论和交流的空间,北京老书虫扮演着越来越重要的角色。这里是中国与世界交流的地方之一——吃、喝、读,畅所欲言。单就这一点,已值得举杯庆祝。

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Contributor: Allen Young
Photographer: David Yen


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供稿人: Allen Young
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Shy Spirits 请将他的“害羞”小心轻放

April 19, 2019 2019年4月19日

Nadhir Nor’s characters in his watercolor series Segan (‘Shy’) and Masih Segan (‘Still Shy’) look like magical sprites that could have appeared in a Studio Ghibli film or a vintage Walt Disney feature. The Malaysian illustrator brings his anthropomorphic plants gently to life with magic and wonder.

Nor’s interest in art has humble roots. He dabbled in drawing as a child, but it wasn’t until secondary school, when he discovered the online art community Deviantart, that art became a passion. Seeing all the various beautiful and wonderful works made by everyday people like him sparked Nor’s creativity, prompting him to pick up a tablet and experiment.

The mythical stories and the fantastical worlds ubiquitous in video games and animated films had always fascinated him, and that eventually brought on an epiphany. “We don’t have to only consume these interesting stories and worlds,” he says. “We could also create them ourselves.”


马来西亚插画家 Nadhir Nor 在其水彩画系列《Segan》(《害羞》)和《Masih Segan》(《依然害羞》)中,将各种植物拟人化,描绘成各式各样的精灵角色,看上去就像是吉卜力动画片或老式迪斯尼动画片里的角色,充满魔法和奇妙的魅力。

Nadhir 从小就开始绘画,但并非涉猎深入。一直到中学在他发现了在线艺术网站 Deviantart 后,艺术才真正演变成一种热情。当他看到那么多美丽而精彩的作品都出自像他这样的平凡人之手,这大大激发了他的创造力,促使他开始尝试创作。

视频游戏和动画片中的神话故事和幻想世界也一直使他着迷,而他最终也意识到:“我们不只能成为这些有趣故事和世界的消费者,我们也可以成为它们的创造者。”

Segan grew out of Nor’s time in the residency program at Rimbun Dahan, a Malaysian center for the development of traditional and contemporary art forms. Before he began the program, he worked full-time as an animation concept artist and could only explore his personal projects on nights and weekends. He decided to take up the residency to rediscover himself as both an artist and storyteller, and to have the chance to immerse himself fully in his watercolors without having to worry about catching up on work and sleep the next day.


《Segan》系列诞生于 Nadhir 参加 Rimbun Dahan 驻地项目的期间。那里是马来西亚发展传统和当代艺术文化的中心。在加入这个计划之前,他是一名全职的动画概念设计师,只能在晚上下班和周末时创作自己的个人项目。后来,他决定参加这个驻地计划,重新找回自己作为艺术家和故事讲述者的身份,并乘此机会全心沉浸于水彩画创作中,不必再担心为了赶工作,第二天上班还昏昏欲睡。

Like many happy accidents, the series didn’t start off with a concrete plan. It began with Nor’s “segan-ness” both in his exploration of watercolors and in his presence at the well-known art center. The idea stemmed from an emotional source rather than tangible inspirations, coupled with the influence of being surrounded by the pristine nature that surrounds Rimbun Dahan. Segan also stems from his culture—namely his interest in the belief of bunians and jins, spirits that quietly live among humans going about their everyday life.

“I want to remind people of the beauty in being sensitive, in being vulnerable, and how we can use it to help us,” he says. Of course, he’s aware of the irony of his title: had he truly been “segan” and not done anything with his works, he would have missed out on many opportunities. By recognizing his own insecurity, he managed to turn it on its head and use it to his advantage, instead of allowing it to overshadow him.


如同许多惊喜的意外,《Segan》系列并不是诞生于一个具体的创作计划。而是源自于 Nadhir 身处在这个著名的艺术中心,以及自己才刚刚开始对水彩画展开探索的“羞怯之情”。这个想法更多是受到情感方面的形塑,而不是单纯地被灵感光顾。Rimbun Dahan 四周的原始自然风光,以及他自身的文化背景都对他的创作产生了一定的影响。他深信着关于 bunians 和 jins(马来西亚民间传说中的超自然生物)的传说。据说,这些精灵一直安静地生活在人类四周。

他说:“我想提醒人们敏感和脆弱之美,以及我们如何利用这些特质来帮助自己,而不是让自己被打败。”当然,他也知道系列的名字取得有些讽刺:如果他真的“害羞”,他大概不会开始创作作品,自然也会错失展示它的许多机会。但是,他从一开始时就意识到自己缺乏安全感,并设法将其转变为优势,而不是让他的“害羞”成为他的累赘。

Nor considers himself vulnerable, but he’s in touch with his own vulnerability. “I think the beauty in being vulnerable is that it’s a good reminder that at the end of the day, as worried as we might be about things affecting us, it also means that we are allowing ourselves to grow. It’s about opening our door to possibilities, instead of shutting things down just because we’re afraid.”

He presents his stories through plants for their timelessness and omnipresence. They lack “any tinge of period or context” that would otherwise occur if he had used modern or prehistoric objects. “Vulnerability will probably be with us until the end of time, and I hope plants will too,” he says.


Nadhir 认为自己是脆弱的,但他也接纳自己的脆弱。“我认为脆弱的美妙之处在于它提醒了我们,尽管我们担心很多会影响自己的事情,但这也意味着我们允许自己去成长。只有这样我们才能开怀拥抱各种可能性,而不是因为害怕,就把自己封闭起来。”

Nadhir 选择植物来创作,是因为植物的永恒性和无所不在。如果他使用现代或史前的物品,就会带上“特定时期或背景”的标签。“脆弱大概永远会伴随我们而存在,我希望植物也会如此。”他说。

After the successful release of Segan, Nor followed up with Masih Segan. This second series took three months to complete, and it serves not just as a continuation of the first series, but also as a sort of commentary—on the good that came out of pushing himself to release his work, and the beauty of the uncertainty and possibilities that followed.

Nor is now basking in the sunlight, and there’s still plenty of time for him to bloom. Though he hopes to move on to other mediums, he believes there’s still much more to discover in the softness and unpredictability of watercolors. He’s also keen to go back and explore his lifelong fascination with the art of fantasy role-playing games and possibly collaborate with other Malaysian artists.

“A big part of my shyness—my ‘segan’-ness—with the series came from the fact that I am not from the fine arts scene. I focused heavily during college and worked on entertainment art, which is more commercial. So it’s definitely daunting to be dipping my feet into this scene. But it’s been exciting, and people have been supportive.”


在成功发表《Segan》后,Nadhir 又创作了后续系列《Masih Segan》,后者历时三个月完成,不仅是第一个系列的延续,更是一种注释——表达因为推动自己发表作品所带来的好处,以及随之而来的那些美妙的不确定性和可能性。

现在的 Nadhir 像是沐浴在阳光下,并有足够的时间让他绽放。虽然他希望转向其它媒介创作,但他相信,柔淡而不可预测的水彩画还有更多值得发掘的东西。同时,他也热切地回归探索他对角色扮演游戏(RPG)艺术的迷恋,并可能与其他马来西亚艺术家合作。

“我的害羞,我的‘segan’,很大一部分来自于我并非美术科班出身的事实。大学期间我主要侧重于娱乐艺术,比较商业化。所以进入艺术界对我来说是令人生畏的事情。但也是令人兴奋的,大家都很给予了我很多支持。”

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Instagram: @snadhir

 

Contributor: Joanna Lee
Chinese Translation: Olivia Li


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供稿人: Joanna Lee
英译中: Olivia Li

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Bodies in Darkness and Light 你的身体,我的锁骨

March 29, 2019 2019年3月29日
Wave and Reef 3, oil on canvas (120 x 150 cm)

On a hazy Saturday afternoon, Beijing’s 798 Art Zone feels like a small city center, buzzing with activity. There’s a refreshing excitement for art in the air. Chinese contemporary painter Xie Qi has agreed to meet in a coffee shop opposite UCCA to discuss her latest series of oil paintings, Clavicle.

“The themes I like the most are the big ones in life—tragedy and comedy together,” says the artist. Xie has been exploring the use of light and the human figure for years, giving her work a quality that’s both spectral and corporeal. For Clavicle, she added a new layer of drama by depicting the human body in various natural poses illuminated by expressive bands of light. The artist sees the clavicle as a line between portraiture and figuration, an axis holding the surrounding parts into focus.


在一个天气朦胧的周六下午,北京的 798 艺术区感觉就像一个缩小的市中心,人声鼎沸,热闹非凡,空气中弥漫着一股因艺术而生的兴奋气息。中国当代画家谢其此时正在 UCCA 尤伦斯当代艺术中心对面的咖啡馆里,讨论着她的最新油画作品系列《锁骨》(Clavicle)。

“我喜欢的创作主题往往是那些生命中的重要议题——悲剧,以及喜剧。”谢其说。多年来,这名艺术家一直在探索如何利用光线和人体来创作,而这也让她的作品充满一种既虚幻又写实的风格。在《锁骨》中,她通过极具表现力的光影叠加效果,勾勒出摆着各种自然姿势的人体,赋予此一系列更多戏剧性。在谢其看来,锁骨是肖像和人体之间的分界线,一条将四周部位划入焦点区域的轴线。

Purple Invading Red, oil on canvas (146 x 112 cm)
Timid and Strained 1, oil on canvas (88.5 x 69 cm)

Xie moved from Chongqing to Beijing more than 20 years ago to attend the Academy of Art and Design at Tsinghua University. She often wonders why she hasn’t left the city yet, especially since rocketing studio prices are making it increasingly hard for artists to support themselves. But she says the difficulties are worth it: “Comfortable is not good for art. Beijing relates directly to my work, and here I have to keep things simple.” Besides, she adds, the city gathers open-minded people from all walks of life, such as her friends, many of whom are her subjects for Clavicle.


20 多年前,谢其从重庆搬到北京,进入清华大学美术学院学习。她经常问自己为什么还没有离开这座城市,尤其是不断上涨的工作室租金让艺术家的生存变得日益困难。但她认为,承受这种困难是值得的:“舒适安逸并不利于艺术创作。北京与我的作品是直接相连的,而生活在这里代表我必须一切从简。”此外,她补充说,这座城市聚集许多来自各行各业的心态开放的人,譬如说她的朋友,其中许多位还成为了《锁骨》系列的模特儿。

Ruth Ruth in Blue, oil on canvas (77 x 155 cm)
Wave and Reef 2, oil on canvas (117 x 91 cm)
Timid and Strained 3, oil on canvas (117 x 91 cm)

Her process for this series began with setting the lights and photographing her subjects. “This was a moment different from ordinary life,” she says. “We could feel each other.” Based on the photos, she then drew on the canvas, paint the first layer, wait several days for it to dry, and then paint the second layer. It took her years to complete the entire series.

One of the most fascinating portraits is the profile of a man with a fearful expression, only partly visible in the ethereal darkness. Xie met the subject, French Lacanian psychoanalyst Michel Guibal, during an art residency in Paris. Guibal trained the very first school of Chinese students of Lacan. When Xie Qi took his photograph, he was ill and bedridden, but that didn’t prevent him from sitting for her. He passed away shortly thereafter.


在创作该系列作品时,她会先设置好灯光,拍摄下要画的人物对象。她说:“这个时刻与平时截然不同,我们要互相感觉到对方。”之后,在照片的基础上,她开始在画布上作画——先画第一层,等待几天颜料干后,再画第二层。她一共花了多年的时间才完成整个系列的创作。

其中最引人入胜的一张画像是一个男人的侧脸,脸上流露着恐惧的表情,在虚无的黑暗中若隐若现。这幅画的原型是法国拉康学派精神分析学家吉布尔(Michel Guibal),谢其是在巴黎一个艺术家驻留项目中与他相识。吉布尔是第一个给中国学生培训拉康的讲师。谢其拍摄他的照片当时他正身患重病,卧床不起。但他依然努力坐起来给她拍摄。在那不久之后,吉布尔就去世了。

Ruth, oil on canvas (120 x 120 cm)
Guibal, oil on canvas (120 x 120 cm)
Mr Meng, oil on canvas (110 x 90 cm)
Wave and Reef 1, oil on canvas (150 x 120 cm)

One might say that there is a psychological analysis behind Clavicle, as if the paintings were a direct representation of the mental state of the subjects. The artist, however, maintains that the identity and narrative of her subjects were never important to her—the body was not a means to an end; it was the actual end. “Appearance and shape, observed from different angles, are truly the main points,” she explains. “But of course there is always something behind it.”


有些人可能会认为《锁骨》一系列隐含心理分析的成分,每一幅画仿佛都是画中人物的精神状态的直接展示。但谢其坚称,创作对象的身份和故事对她来说并不重要,身体不是达成目的手段,身体本身就是目的。“从不同角度去观察外表和形体才是真正的重点。不过当然,创作背后总是不免地会有弦外之音。”她解释说。

Red Painted Body, oil on canvas (90 x 60 cm)

Xie’s dramatic use of light also powerfully conveys emotions. “The lights put the subjects on a stage, connoting a certain predicament or dilemma,” she notes. For her recent show in Shanghai, she expanded this use of light outside the canvas, with an installation of neon lights that immerses the audience in her world. She had the idea after learning that the gallery space had previously been a massage parlor and front for a brothel. She plays with the sordid history of the building, adding a new layer of lechery to the exhibition.

The Clavicle series is a breakthrough for the artist. She will soon release a catalog of the exhibition containing all the artworks. Given the explicit nature of the content, she’ll have to find an independent publisher, yet she doesn’t seem bothered much by this fact. “As an artist,” she says, “I have to find a way.”


此外,谢其运用戏剧性的光线来有力地传达情感。“灯光将人物置于舞台中,暗示着某种窘迫或困境。”她解释道。这次在上海的展览她特别将光线搬离画布外,通过霓虹灯装置,让观众更沉浸在她所创造的世界中。她是在得知画廊空间以前曾是一间按摩院和妓院的前厅后,才有了这个想法。她利用这幢建筑过去不洁的历史,让现场更流露一股纵欲的氛围。

对谢其来说,《锁骨》系列是她创作上的一次突破。不久后她将发表一本收录所有作品的展览目录。鉴于画面的内容较为赤裸,她必须寻找独立出版商,但她似乎不受这个问题的困扰。她说:“作为一个艺术家,我必须设法去找寻出路。”

Website: xieqi-art.com

 

Contributor: Tomás Pinheiro
Chinese Translation: Olivia Li


网站: xieqi-art.com

 

供稿人: Tomás Pinheiro
英译中: Olivia Li

Sticky Situations 你爷爷的路

March 27, 2019 2019年3月27日

Occasionally censorship and draconian punishment can backfire and work in an artist’s favor. That’s certainly the case for Singapore’s Samantha Lo, otherwise known as SKL0, who went from facing jail time for her lighthearted street art to touring the world for gallery shows and mural commissions.

SKL0 never expected to become an artist. Before the whole uproar, she had studied food science and didn’t know what she wanted out of life. Street art caught her attention in 2008 when she started a blog about art in Singapore called RCGNTN. At first, she didn’t plan on joining the ranks of those she covered, but after a little while, she started slapping stickers around Haji Lane (a popular spot with the young crowd) to promote her website. That eventually evolved into stickers with humorous one-liners and observations about life in Singapore.


有些时候,艺术家如果遭受了“审查”和惩罚,反而更可能会让他们因祸得福。就像新加坡艺术家 Samantha Lo 的经历正是如此。她以 SKL0 的名字为人熟知,曾经因为自己出于好玩创作的街头艺术而面临牢狱之灾,也因此获得在世界各地的画廊巡回展览和壁画创作邀请的机会。

SKL0 从未想过会成为一名艺术家。在一切变得沸沸扬扬之前,她就读食品科学专业,还不知道自己到底想要怎么样的生活。2008 年,她开启了一个有关新加坡艺术的博客 RCGNTN,并从那时起开始关注街头艺术。起初,她并没有打算加入这些她所报导的艺术家行列,但没过多久,她开始在当地的哈芝巷(Haji Lane,青年文化的集中地)四处张贴贴纸,以宣传自己的博客。后来,她又在这些贴纸上添加了关于新加坡生活的一些有趣见解。

The stickers went viral and got her some attention, but it wasn’t until she stenciled the words “My Grandfather Road” on the ground in 2012 that her life changed. The phrase itself is just a play on the local saying “your grandfather’s road,” which is commonly used to tell off other drivers. Yet it sparked an investigation that led to an arrest, international media attention, and ultimately a brand new career.


这些贴纸后来被网友疯传,她因此获得了一些关注。直到 2012 年,因为那一句印在地上的“我爷爷的路”(My Grandfather Road),她的生活迎来了巨大的转折点。这句话本身只是从“你爷爷的路”衍化而来,当地人用来惩戒其他司机的一种说法。然而,这句话招致政府部门对她的调查,之后的逮捕,来自国际媒体的关注,以及最终让她走上了新的职业生涯。

“I was at home, upstairs in my room playing Grand Theft Auto, when my mom called from downstairs. I thought she wanted me to do some chores,” SKL0 recalls with a laugh. “I went down and saw six officers standing in our living room.” The police searched her room in their three-story home on the outskirts of the city and found all the evidence they needed to book her. “I spent about 22 hours at the station, but they were very nice about it. They said they liked my work and apologized for handcuffing me.”

She was charged with mischief and faced up to two years in jail for a couple of stencils spray-painted on the pavement. But people were outraged that someone was facing prison time for harmless works of art.


“我当时正呆在家里,在房间里玩《侠盗猎车手》(Grand Theft Auto)。我妈妈在楼下喊我,我还以为她要我帮忙做家务。” SKL0 笑着回忆道。“我下楼,看见六名警察站在我家的客厅。”这是幢郊区小三层房子,警察们搜遍了她的房间,找到所有足以带她走的相关证据。“我在警察局待了大概 22 个小时,但他们对我挺好的。他们说很喜欢我的作品,还为了给我带手铐而道歉。”

因为在人行道上喷了几个约两米宽的涂鸦,她被指控刑事恶作剧罪,而面临长达两年的监禁。仅仅因为喷涂了几面墙就要入狱,当地民众对这样的宣判感到十分愤怒。

Before SKL0, street art in Singapore was generally relegated to alleyways and hidden spaces, but now the public was confronted with how the law impacted creative expression. Foreign vandals have been dealt harsher penalties for less defensible actions. But this case made waves because it involved a young, local artist who was seemingly caught in the system for making people smile. “It was such a high profile case that a lot of lawyers approached me on a pro bono basis,” SKL0 says. “It was so crazy, I was in the media for like a week. Established brands were even cashing in on my designs by selling them.” People surged to her defense and filed a petition with some 15,000 signatures protesting her punishment. A minister even asked for her sentence to be reduced.


在 SKL0 出现之前,新加坡的街头艺术通常都只能在隐密小巷或遮蔽的空间里进行。 而现在,公众开始思考法律如何影响创意表达的问题。有一些蓄意破坏公共财产的外国人,会因为这些“无正当理由的罪行”而受到严厉惩罚。但 SKL0 的案件反映的是一名当地青年因为一些幽默创作而被政府逮捕。“我的案件获得了很多关注,有很多律师找到我要为我无偿服务。” SKL0 说,“真是太疯狂了,我在媒体上被报道了将近一个星期。甚至还有品牌用我的设计来卖产品。”支持她的声浪不断涌入,人们提交了请愿书以期政府减轻对她的惩罚,最后一共获得了约 15000 份签名。甚至有某名部长为她出面以求减刑。

Ultimately, a year after her initial arrest, she was sentenced to just 240 hours of community service and fined $4,000 SGD, which she paid partly by selling T-shirts and collecting donations. “The rest I paid off with the commission opportunities I got after the case,” she says with a triumphant smile.

Opportunities came flowing in. The only problem was that SKL0 didn’t really consider herself an artist due to her minimal experience. She ended up spending an entire year learning new techniques, hoping to not be pigeonholed into the stickers and stencils that made her famous. Her artistic growth is evident in her body of work, which has expanded into sculptures, murals, and more. She’s shown a talent for using visual languages that viewers are familiar with in order to ask new questions.

Today, about a third of her works are funded by the government, and she works full-time as an artist. Her unlikely trajectory to success proves that sometimes what may seem like a stroke of bad luck can actually be a blessing in disguise.


在被逮捕一年后,最终她被判处 240 小时的社区服务和罚款 4000 新币。她靠卖 T 恤和募集捐款支付了部分罚款。“这次事件之后,我获得了很多工作邀请,我用赚的钱支付了其余罚款。”她带着胜利的笑容说道。

在这之后,也就是她还没把自己当成艺术家的时候,她的工作机会就接踵而至了。于是,她花了一年时间学习新的创作技术,以避免自己的创作被局限于让她“闻名遐迩”的贴纸和涂鸦作品。她的作品涉猎面日益扩大,现在也有雕塑和墙绘之类更多的创作。她会通过观众所熟悉视觉语言,提出新的问题。

现在,她的作品大约有三分之一由政府资助,她也完全可靠艺术来谋生。有时候,真的是塞翁失马,焉知非福啊。

Instagram: @skl0_

 

Contributor: Mike Steyels
Chinese Translation: Olivia Li

 

 


Instagram: @skl0_

 

供稿人: Mike Steyels
英译中: Olivia Li

Enigmatic Eyes 你看起来很伤心

March 13, 2019 2019年3月13日

At an exhibition in Columbus, Ohio, a group of wide-eyed elementary students gather around a series of enigmatic sculpted faces argue. “That one looks like it’s sad,” says one of them. “No, it looks like it’s doing this!” another yells back, making a face. They continue to disagree, laughing at each other and defending their perspectives.

Gunyoung Kim, the artist behind the sculptures, is originally from Seoul and moved to the United States to pursue graduate studies in ceramic art. She has held residencies in Kansas and Montana, and currently lives and teaches in Ohio. She says she wants to “make art accessible to everyone”—a goal that, at first glance, seems at odds with her surrealist figures. But for her, making her art accessible doesn’t mean presenting a single, obvious meaning, but leaving it open to multiple interpretations. “I want viewers to have their own responses to my work,” she says.


在美国俄亥俄州哥伦布市的一个展览中,一群小学生正睁大眼睛,围看一组神秘的雕塑面孔,热烈地争论着。“这一个看起来很伤心。”一个小学生说道。“不,它看起来是这样的!”另一个边嚷着,边模仿雕塑做鬼脸。他们继续辩论,各抒己见,为各自不同的观点而开怀大笑。

这些雕塑的创作者 Gunyoung Kim 是一名来自韩国首尔的艺术家。她曾在美国攻读陶瓷艺术的研究生学位,并先后在堪萨斯州和蒙大拿州生活过,目前则在俄亥俄州担任教师工作。她说自己想“让所有人都能理解艺术”——乍听之下,这个目标似乎与她的超现实主义作品自相矛盾。但对于她来说,让人们理解艺术,并不意味着必须呈现单一、意义明显的作品,而是开放地让人们对于作品解读出自己的意见。“我希望观众对我的作品能有他们自己的理解。”她说。

Kim is an astute observer of expressions. “I was always interested in faces,” she says, “I don’t know why, but even when I made functional ceramics, I often drew or cast faces on them.” Part of the reason may lie in just how easy she is to talk to. Her comfort with other people allows her to make intimate observations. For the final exhibition of her undergraduate studies, she was inspired by the special needs children she’d worked with through her church for seven years. “Their faces were always difficult to read,” she recalls.“sometimes they were full of curiosity, or just really cute. It was hard to tell what they were thinking about.”


Gunyoung 是一位敏锐的表情观察者。她说:“我一直对人的面孔特别感兴趣,我也说不上为什么。即使是做功能性的陶器,我也常常会加上面孔的元素。”也许,她平易近人的性格是一部分原因。她总能让和她在一起的人感到特别舒服,这给予了她机会近距离去观察别人。在她就读本科时的最后一个展览中,她以自己在教会工作七年期间,遇到的特殊儿童作为创作灵感。她回忆说:“他们的表情很难看懂。有时候他们看上去充满了好奇,有时候只是单纯很可爱。很难猜测他们到底在想什么。”

Kim’s sculptures are inspired by faces she sees, but they’re not likenesses of anyone specific. It’s never her intention to replicate a particular face, and her medium lends itself to her art: “The really fun part about clay is that it’s super soft, so you can easily manipulate it. I never like making the exact same expression, and because there are many stages to the process I can add details or make changes as I go.” And unlike drawing, sculpting requires making a structure—shaping the head, pushing in the eye sockets, placing the eyes, etc.—which adds both variation and limitation, depending on the material used.


Gunyoung 的雕塑灵感来自于她所看到的面孔,但它们并不会类似于任何特定人物。她从来没有打算复制一张特定的脸,她的艺术完全延伸自媒介:“粘土真正有趣的部分在于它非常柔软,所以你可以很容易地操控它。我从来不喜欢制作相同的表情。在形塑的过程中有许多阶段,我可以随时添加细节或进行修改。与绘图不同,雕刻需要制作一个立体的结构——塑造头部、推入眼窝、放置眼睛等等——这增加了变化性,当然还有限制。

Given Kim’s gregarious nature, it’s hard to imagine her robbed of her voice. But when she first moved across the world to the US, she found herself struggling to overcome the language barrier. “I started thinking about my own emotions, because I couldn’t express myself. I started asking myself fundamental questions like why I was here, what I was doing or even who I was. During that time I really started to focus on my own voice.”

That voice, it turned out, had a lot to say about human relationships and emotions. “Humans are made to interact with each other,” she says. “At the time, I really started to notice how my relationships with other people impacted my emotions.” When asked about what she’s learned about human emotions through her art so far, she says, “Our feelings are always shifting and changing, and this reveals how unstable and vulnerable we are. One of the main ideas for my work is the way the complexity and ambiguity of our emotions comes from our imperfections.”


有着如此容易相处的性格,很难想象 Gunyoung 曾经失去自己的声音。当她最初移居到美国时,她曾有过语言障碍的经历。“我开始思考自己的一些情绪,因为我无法向外表达自己。我开始问自己为什么要到这里?我到底在做什么?甚至是我到底是谁?这些本质性的问题。那段时间我真的特别注意我自己的声音。”

而那个“声音”,其实与人际关系和情感是密切相关的。“人类天生必须与其他人互动。”她说。“那时候我开始关注我与其他人的关系会如何影响我的情绪。”当被问及她至今通过自己的艺术,对人的情感有什么理解时,她回应:“我们的情感一直在变化,这揭示了我们有多么不稳定和脆弱。我的作品的主要理念之一,即是人类情感的复杂性和模糊不定,来自于我们的不完美。”

Though Kim is now fluent in English and teaches workshops, she continues to study the faces around her by taking photographs. Her work is inspired by people from her personal life, and she snaps candid photos of them when they aren’t looking—not to copy these faces, but to observe details. Before sketching a sculpture, she sometimes starts by looking through her photographs. “I think I’m interacting with the photo, collecting my memories and experiences with other people. It’s part of the process.” One strange part of this, she observes, is that she finds it much more difficult to use photos of strangers. Why this is so, she isn’t sure: “It’s just a little different . . .  maybe I need a connection with the person to get more information about their expressions.”


即使 Gunyoung 现在能说流利的英语,并且在工作坊担任讲师,但她仍然继续通过拍照来观察她周围的面孔。她的作品都是以她身边的人作为启发的创作,她会趁他们不注意时偷拍下照片,不是为了复制这些面孔,而是要更仔细观察他们的面部细节。在给雕塑画草图之前,她有时会先翻看这些照片。“我觉得我像是在跟自己拍的照片互动,收集那些有关人们的回忆和经历。这是创作过程的一部分。”她还发现了一个奇怪的问题:如果使用陌生人的照片,创作会变得困难得多。为什么会这样呢,她也不确定:“反正就是不太一样……也许是因为本身就认识的人,我就握有更多信息去解读他们的表情。”

Kim’s balance of the realistic and the surreal owes a lot to her artistic influences. She says she’s inspired by painters like René Magritte and Hieronymus Bosch, whose works are visionary but not abstract. “You can still see the figure and the object,” she says. This is one of the reasons she focuses on human faces: “It’s the easiest thing to understand and the most familiar form.”

In fact, she’s tried her hand at purely abstract pieces. “I appreciate abstract art and tried to make it once, but I found I couldn’t.” She recalls that as she tried to smooth and refine her work, it became more and more figurative. She naturally makes work that’s more recognizable to others. “It’s just something and enjoy, and that might just be who I am,” she says with a smile.


Gunyoung 作品中现实与超现实元素的平衡,很大程度上要归功于她的艺术影响。比利时画家马格利特(René Magritte)和耶罗尼米斯·博斯(Hieronymus Bosch)那些前卫而非抽象式的作品启发了她。“你仍然可以看到物体的轮廓和外形。”她说道,这也是她专注于创作人脸的原因之一。“(人脸)是最容易理解、也是人们最熟悉的一种形式。”

事实上,她尝试过创作纯抽象作品。“我很欣赏抽象艺术,也试过创作这类作品。但我发现自己做不到。”她回忆道,当她试图润饰、完善自己的作品时,作品往往会变得越来越可辨认。她在创作时总是不自觉地倾向具象化。“我还是比较享受创作这样的作品,可能我就是这样子吧。”她笑着说道。

More recently, Kim has expanded her art to include animals and address issues of gender and religion. She says she started making animals when she worked in a studio set in Montana’s stunning natural scenery. “I saw bunnies and deer everyday, and I found the animals really funny because they behaved like humans sometimes.” She chooses animals that are frequently prey because she sees them as more similar to humans, allowing them to easily personify human emotions.

Kim’s newfound interest in animals developed into her newest project, “My Burden.” This complex series, featuring rabbits, sheep, and humans, encapsulates her growth as an artist. What began with the ambiguity of facial expressions has matured into an intersection of larger ideas, such as femininity and spirituality. The highlight of the series is a piece showing intricate flowers strewn across a sheep’s back, at once beautiful and fragile. Asked about their significance, Kim says she was inspired by her Christian faith, which emphasizes beauty in pain. For her, this duality is part of a more universal human experience. “Hardship and pain never go away, but remain a part of us—they somehow harden and become beautiful.”


最近,Gunyoung 扩大了自己的创作范畴,开始创作有关动物、性别和宗教主题的作品。她说,自从在蒙大拿州一个风景迷人的工作室里工作后,她就开始创作动物题材。“每天我都可以看到兔子和小鹿,我发现这些动物真的很有趣,因为他们有时候表现得简直跟人类一样。”她选择一般都是猎物角色的动物当作题材,因为在她看来这些动物更类似于人类,也更容易传达人类的情感。

对动物的新兴趣启发她创作新的项目《我的负担》(My Burden)。这个复杂的系列作品包括兔子、羊和人类,也体现出她作为艺术家的成长,从最初描绘带有不确定性的面部表情,发展成更宏大想法的展现,如女性特质和精神性。在这个系列作品中,最引人注意的是一幅羊背上散落花朵的作品,看上去既美丽又脆弱。当被问及作品的含义时,Gunyoung 说,这个作品是以她的基督教信仰为灵感创作的,这种信仰强调了痛苦之美。对她来说,这种双重性是一个更普遍的人类经验。“忧患与痛苦永远不会消失,永远是我们的一部分——它们会随着年岁逐渐坚固,变得迷人。”

Flowers bring to light another dimension of Kim’s work. She’s amused by the way people frequently associate the delicacy of flowers with femininity, because in working with them, she’s realized flowers are also “heavy, rough, sharp and brittle.”

Gender is of little concern in molding her figures, she says. “Some people think that because my figures have a certain kind of hair that it’s a man or a woman, but I don’t really pay attention to that while making them.” As Kim continues to develop as an artist, the ambiguities of her work will no doubt grow ever deeper and more dense. The children who enjoyed her work might one day return to find much more debate than just faces.


花卉让她的作品提升了一个新的维度。她说,人们常常将花的柔弱与女性联想在一起,这其实是很可笑的。因为她在创作时发现,事实上,这些花其实“沉重、粗犷、锋利又冷淡”。

她在创作人物雕塑时其实很少会关注性别,她说:“有些人认为,因为我的雕塑有某种发型,那它就是男人或是女人,但我在创作时真的没有在考虑这一点。”作为一个艺术家,Gunyoung 仍在不断进步,她的作品中的不确定性也将变得更有深度,更加强烈。而今天这些围观她雕塑作品的孩子也许会在长大后的某一天重新审视她的作品,发现除了雕塑的表情外,还有更多值得争论的事情。

Websitegunyoungkim.com
Instagram: @ggunyoung9

 

Contributor: Eugene Lee
Chinese Translation: Olivia Li


网站gunyoungkim.com
Instagram: @ggunyoung9

 

供稿人: Eugene Lee
英译中: Olivia Li

More than Skin Deep 肌理之下,越限而上

March 12, 2019 2019年3月12日

 

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To mark the launch of Skullcandy‘s wireless Push™ earphones, we teamed up with the brand to present a series of stories celebrating those in the creative community who push themselves to the limit and break boundaries.

For the first story of the series, we caught up with professional skateboarder Wang Di. In this installment, we met up with tattoo artist Miho (Yao Meihui) to chat about body art, defying convention, and having the conviction to succeed.


为庆祝蓝牙无线耳机 Push™ 的重磅推出,Skullcandy 与 Neocha 正式携手合作,为你带来几位艺术家、运动员和音乐人,打破极限,自我出声的故事。

在这系列的第一篇,我们向大家讲述了职业滑手王玓的故事。而本期我们与纹身艺术家姚美惠会面,聊了聊关于身体艺术、挑战常规和相信自己的一切。

Yao Meihui is not your parents’ tattoo artist. Reserved, almost self-effacing, she’s hard to imagine wielding a tattoo gun. Were it not for the Chinese character drawn on her left cheek—jin (金), or gold—you might not even guess she has an interest in body art, much less that she runs one of Shanghai’s most in-demand studios, Shizhuo Tattoo. Her designs are unconventional, with intricate cartoon illustrations of goth girls drawn in a style she describes as Japanese and New School.

Yao is also not her parents’ tattoo artist. Their generation thought tattoos were something decent people just didn’t have. When she came home with her first one, at the end of high school, her parents pretended not to notice, maybe because she got it to celebrate a good score on the college entrance exam. But a few years later, when she announced she wanted to learn how to make them herself, her father hit the roof, and even threatened to cut her off. “My dad was against me learning how to do tattoos for a lot of reasons. One of them is that Northeastern China, where I’m from, is pretty conservative,” she says. “There’s a prejudice against it. If you have tattoos, maybe people will think you’re a thug or a criminal.”

Yet Yao stuck to her guns and kept learning on the sly. She taught herself the basics online, found her first willing customers, and eventually started to work at a roadside shop. After a couple of years, she apprenticed herself at YZ Tattoo, one of China’s most famous studios. Now that she’s become an independent, sought-after artist, even her dad’s come around.


姚美惠并不是父母那一代人眼中的纹身艺术家。她内敛、低调,看起来一点也不像一个会用纹身枪的人。要不是她左脸上画着的“金”字,你大概想不到她会对这项人体艺术有任何兴趣,更想不到她竟然是上海最受欢迎的纹身工作室——十浊刺青的创始人。她的纹身作品多是以“日式和新学院风格”描画复杂的哥特女孩纹身图案,标新立异风格,又不会令人觉得出格。

当然,姚美惠也不是她父母眼中的纹身艺术家。在她父母那一代人眼中,只有不太正派的人才会有纹身。但在高中毕业时,她纹了自己的第一个纹身,她的父母假装没有看到,猜想她也许只是因为考进了一所好大学,想要庆祝一下。但几年后,当她告诉父母,自己想学习如何纹身时,她的父亲火冒三丈,甚至威胁要切断她的经济来源。“我爸讨厌我学纹身有多方面吧,一个是东北那边比较保守,是对有纹身的人的一种偏见。如果说你有纹身的话你可能是一个地痞或一个流氓。”她说。

然而,姚美惠没有放弃,而是偷偷跑去学纹身。她在网上自学了基础知识,找到她的第一位自愿的客户,后来又开始在路边的店里工作。过了几年,她在杨卓刺青,中国最有名的纹身工作室之一当学徒。而现在,她已经成为一个抢手的独立纹身师,她的爸爸也开始理解她。

Ever since she was little, when she saw her first cartoons, Yao has loved to draw. Her childhood dream was to make animated films, and at college, that’s what she studied. Only toward the end of her undergraduate years did she decide to take a different path from her classmates. “Tattoos are a pretty niche thing,” she recalls them telling her. “You probably can’t live off of that.” 

Yao didn’t want to take the easy path. “I like to create different kinds of art,” she says. And she also likes to use different kinds of materials, something she couldn’t really do as an animator. “Skin is a really magical material. Skin is always different,” she says. “Some have soft skin, some people have hard skin, some people have thick skin, some people have thin skin.” On top of that, every body part is different and responds differently to the needle. “Every job is a challenge, you always feel you’re doing something new.”


从姚美惠小时候看了第一部漫画后,她就喜欢上画画。她儿时的梦想是制作动画电影,在大学也是读这个专业。直到本科快毕业时,她才决定选择与她的同学不同的职业。 “纹身是一个很小众地东西,你可能没有办法靠它吃饭。”她回忆当时同学对她的劝告。

姚美惠没有选择更容易走的那条路。“我喜欢创作不一样的造型。” 她说。她更喜欢用不同的创作材料,这是动画制作所没有的。“皮肤就是一个很神奇的材质。皮肤永远是不一样的,有的人皮肤比较软,有的人皮肤比较硬,有的人皮肤厚,有的人皮肤薄。”她说。最重要的是,每一个身体部位是不同的,在针刺下去时也会有不尽相同的反应。“每一次的工作都是挑战,你会觉得自己总是在做一些新的东西。”

Getting to where she is now took determination. Yao didn’t only face opposition from her father, she also had to face doubts from one of her mentors, a well-known tattoo artist with his own shop. “I’d been working there for around three years, and one day we were all sitting in a meeting and talking about tattoo styles and things. And our boss said to the dozen or so of us there, ‘None of the people sitting here will become an artist,’” she recalls. “But actually I was thinking, ‘I will.’” She’s always believed in herself, and that confidence pushes her to always keep moving forward, even when she’s not sure what to do next.


要走到她今天这一步需要极大的决心。姚美惠不仅要面对她父亲的极力反对,还要面对来自她的一位师傅的质疑,那是一位经营着自己的纹身工作室的著名纹身师。“我去了那家店工作了大概三年吧,大家坐在一起开会,讨论纹身风格啊,这些工作方面的事情。然后老本跟我们十几个说,‘在座的各位,你们谁都成不了艺术家。’”她回忆说,“但是我一直认为我可以。”她一直都对自己充满信心,正是这种自信,推动她不断前进,即使是在迷茫的时候。

When Yao finds herself stuck creatively, she’s not immune to doubt. “When you’re blocked, you start to wonder if you’ve veered off course. Maybe my style isn’t natural enough? Maybe what I’m inking isn’t solid enough?” Her response is to force herself to keep creating. That’s the only way to get unstuck. Sometimes she’ll try painting or drawing for a bit— the detour into a different medium broadens her pool of inspiration. “I don’t let my hand stop, don’t let my brain stop,” she says. “You can really get a lot out of that. And when you finally make it past the dead end, you take a big leap forward.”


当姚美惠遇到创作瓶颈时,她也会怀疑自己。“遇到瓶颈期的时候是会怀疑自己会不会有点走偏了?风格会不会不够洒脱?”她的回应是不断强迫自己保持创作。这是打破瓶颈的唯一办法。有时,她会试着去画画:用不同的媒介来拓宽了她的灵感。“我的做法就是手不要停下,脑子也不能停下,真的会收获到不一样的东西,过了瓶颈期就会有一个大飞跃。”

Being an artist is about constantly improving, says Yao. “Your works always look best before you’re finished. When you’ve added the last stroke, you think, ‘Not bad, but not perfect.’ A week later you think ‘They’re terrible, I need to do something better.'” She never stops seeking to outdo herself, making each design better than the last.

“Pushing limits, for me, means not stopping, always trying different methods, and striving to break through that dead end. Then you can soar.”


在姚美惠看来,作为一个艺术家就是要不断提升自己。“自己的作品永远都是画完之前最好看,刚画完觉得嗯,还不错,差一点。过一周就觉得不行,我还需要更好的。她从未停止过对自我的挑战,努力让每一件作品都超越前一个。

“突破极限对我来说就是不要停下来,一直要去尝试不同的方法,然后努力地跨过那道卡,就是质的飞跃。”

Shop the Push™ wireless earphones at Skullcandy’s Tmall page or official website.


想收获一副属于你自己的 Skullcandy 蓝牙无线耳机 Push™,敬请登陆天猫或者官网订购。

Weibo: ~/crowstattoo
Instagram: @meihui_miho

 

Contributor: Allen Young
Videographer: Ni ZhaoyuYang BingyingPaul Gardette, Damien Louise
Photographer: David Yen
Chinese Translation: Olivia Li


微博: ~/crowstattoo
Instagram: @meihui_miho

 

供稿人: Allen Young
摄像师: Ni Zhaoyu, Paul Gardette, Yang Bingying, Damien Louise
摄影师: David Yen
英译中: Olivia Li

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Some Kinks to Work Out 未成年人请注意

March 11, 2019 2019年3月11日

It can take a lot of bravery to express your innermost desires publicly, but when you present them with pastel colors, sharp linework, and characters that fit like puzzle pieces, it makes things a lot easier. Darling Kink is an erotic illustrator from the Philippines who channels her private feelings into work meant to force open the discussion of sexuality in her country.

“The Philippines is very repressed, very conservative,” she says in one of Manila’s many malls.  Her neon colored windbreaker matches her nails. “Like many others, my family is very religious, so it’s taboo to talk about these type of things.”


向他人坦露内心的欲望,往往需要很大的勇气。但是当你以柔和的色彩、清晰的线描以及拼图式的人物来表达这些欲望,好像又变得容易一些。Darling Kink 是菲律宾的一名情色插画家,她将自己私密的情感融入作品中,意图推进这个国家对性的公开讨论。

“菲律宾人是非常压抑、非常保守的。” Darling Kink 在马尼拉的一个商场里如此说道,她正身着霓虹色的风衣,衬出她的美甲色。“和很多菲律宾人一样,我的家人也是很虔诚的教徒,所以他们很忌讳谈论这些东西。”

Darling Kink’s family always supported her goal of becoming an artist, and when she enrolled to study visual communication in college, she found that the new surroundings also encouraged her to express herself. She took all those cues and found her way further by drawing her intimate fantasies in private. “I wanted to open this type of discussion, because it’s not available to many women in the Philippines. I wanted to create a space for the discussion of simple things like sexual and romantic relations. But I didn’t set out with an agenda, it just kind of happened.”

While she had trouble finding an audience for her early works on paper, Instagram provided a new outlet, one that seemed tailor-made for her new outlook: “My ability to express desires and fantasies is a luxury, because not a lot of women or those in the LGBTQ community can do that here. I don’t want them to feel guilty about their sexuality. People are seeking support groups to feel normal, and I think my account creates a space for that.” Then, with a sly smile and a mischievous gleam in her eye, she adds, “I want to fight the patriarchy.”


一直以来,Darling Kink 的家人都很支持她成为艺术家。她大学在修读视觉传达专业时,发现这种新的环境令她更想要表达自己。慢慢地,她开始在私下用画笔画出自己内心的性幻想。“我想要开始这种有关性的讨论,因为在菲律宾很多女性都没有办法讨论这个话题。我想为她们创造一些空间,去谈论性和爱这类简单的话题。但我并没有特意做什么计划,只是自然而然开始做这件事。”

对于她早期纸上创作的作品,要找到观众并不容易;这时候,Instagram 提供了一个全新的创意出口,一个似乎为她量身订做的新出路:“我很幸运,可以自由地表达欲望和性幻想,因为在这里,很多女性和 LGBTQ 群体都无法做到这一点。我不希望他们要因为自己的性取向而感到羞愧。许多人会去找支持小组,让自己感觉像个正常人。我想,我的 Instagram 也算是创造了这样一个空间吧。”说完,她露出了狡黠的笑容,眼睛闪着调皮的光芒,她说:“我要对抗这个父权社会。”

Around the time we spoke, President Rodrigo Duterte was in the news for saying that as a teenager he molested his maid while she slept, a story he later claimed to have made up for dramatic purposes. It was just the latest controversy about women’s rights to entangle the president, who’s been known to make jokes about rape.

As if to emphasize her point about the country being very traditional and religious, many busy streets that are usually choked with traffic were flooded the day we met by over a million devotees participating in a Catholic procession called The Feast of the Black Nazarene. More than 80 percent of the country identifies as Catholic, which translates to some very conservative statistics relating to sexuality.


在我们见面的时候,新闻正报道菲律宾总统罗德里戈·杜特尔特(Rodrigo Duterte)曾说自己十几岁的时候曾经趁他的女佣睡觉性骚扰她,但后来又改口说那只是为了抢眼球才编造的故事。对于这位爱以性侵笑话取乐的总统,这只是他最近的另一起有关女性权利的丑闻。

似乎是为了强调她关于这个国家非常传统和充满宗教色彩的观点,在我们见面这天,通常许多塞满车的繁忙街道被超过一百万名的信徒挤满,他们正参加菲律宾天主教年度盛事黑拿撒勒人节(the Feast of the Black Nazarene)的活动。这个国家超过 80% 的人口都信奉天主教,在有关性的话题方面,他们都是非常保守的人。

It’s the only country in the world, aside from Vatican City, where divorce is illegal. Abortion is strictly prohibited, even in cases of rape, incest, or danger to the mother’s life. A plan to provide contraception to the poor has been a battle for decades. HIV is spreading at the highest rate in the Asia-Pacific region. And while some consider the Philippines to be the most LGTBQ-tolerant country in Asia, violence, and discrimination are still serious problems.


菲律宾是世界上除梵蒂冈外唯一一个离婚是非法的国家,堕胎也被严格禁止,即使是因强奸、乱伦或在危及母亲生命的情况下。一个为穷人提供避孕用品的计划竟然也被争议了数十年。这里的艾滋病蔓延速度是亚太区最快的。虽然有些人认为菲律宾是亚洲国家中对 LGTBQ 群体最宽容的国家,但针对性的暴力歧视仍然比较严重。

Darling Kink believes artists have a duty to address issues that others can’t. “The art scene here is very open, but it’s a very privileged circle. It’s mainly an upper-middle-class community. Everyone I know in the art world comes from backgrounds that allow them to explore,” she says, including herself within those ranks. “We’re offered a luxury that not many people have. So we have a responsibility to open these type of discussions for those who can’t.”

This activist streak of hers isn’t limited to sexuality; she also creates work addressing many other issues but doesn’t post it to her main feed. She was even involved in street protests when Duterte was first elected and experienced a backlash for it on social media: “I was active in protesting against him in the beginning, but I just got tired of everything. The political landscape here is so draining. A lot of people in my Facebook network were supporters, so I ended up deleting that account. I had 4,000 followers, but getting rid of it kept me and my family safe, which was more important than people  having access to my art.”


Darling Kink 认为艺术家有责任来解决这些别人未能解决的问题。“这里的艺术圈非常开放,但在这个圈子里的通常都来自中上层阶级,他们的家庭背景让他们有能力去自由探索。”她说道,“我们算很幸运的了,不是很多人有这种运气。因此,我们有责任去为社会上的更多人去推动这些讨论。”

她关心的并不限于性相关的话题;她的作品也会关注其他问题,只是没有被她重点展示出来。在杜特尔特首次当选时,她甚至参与了当时的街头抗议活动,也因此受到了一些报复。“我一开始也很积极地进行各种抗议他的活动,但后来我逐渐厌倦了这一切。这个国家的政治环境实在让人感到太无力了。在我的 Facebook 朋友中,很多人都是他的支持者,所以我最终注销了这个帐户。我在上面有 4000 名粉丝,但注销这个帐号能保证我和家人的安全,这一点对我来说,比让人们看到我的作品更重要。”

Now she’s wrestling with how to expand her impact through her art and is starting to bump up against the limits of her erotic brand: “There are other issues beyond sexuality that need fighting for. We’re still struggling with basic concerns like health care and labor rights. Am I really doing anything to address the most serious issues in the Philippines?” It’s a question that people who truly care often ask themselves, and one that offers a hint to what might be next.


现在,她正努力思考如何让自己的作品扩大影响,并开始尝试打破自己的标志性情色作品的限制:“在性之外,还有许多需要争取的问题。我们仍然在为医疗保健和劳动权利这些基本权利在努力。我所做的事情真的能有助于解决菲律宾最严重的问题吗?”对于真正心系这个国家的人来说,这是他们常常扪心自问的一个问题,一个让他们思考下一步行动的问题。

Instagram: @darlingkink

 

Contributor: Mike Steyels
Chinese Translation: Olivia Li


Instagram: @darlingkink

 

供稿人: Mike Steyels
中译英: 李秋群

The Glamorous Boys of Tang 唐朝绮丽男

March 4, 2019 2019年3月4日

Years before Ang Lee’s gay Confucian melodrama The Wedding Banquet, or Tsai Ming-liang’s slow-burning cinematic exploration of crisscrossed desires Vive l’amour, Chiu Kang-chien’s 1985 film The Glamorous Boys of Tang debuted in Taiwanese cinemas. The blatantly queer and absurdly costumed film was not well received on an island still under martial law. Featuring exorcisms, gruesome deaths, and orgies, it naturally ran afoul of the authorities, resulting in heavy cuts. But it also represented a small milestone in Taiwanese queer cinema. Now Su Hui-yu has released a remake that hews closer to the script’s subversive edge than even the original. (Watch a trailer here).


1985 年,在李安的同志情节剧《喜宴》,以及蔡明亮缓慢探寻交织爱欲与城市疏离感的“水三部曲”都还未面世前,邱刚健的电影《唐朝绮丽男》在台湾院线上映了。电影中露骨的同性情欲和穿着奇装异服的画面,在当时仍在戒严的岛上并不受欢迎。这部以驱魔、死亡和狂欢为题的电影,理所当然与当局的立场发生冲突,影片也招致大幅剪裁。但它仍代表了台湾同志电影中的一个小小的里程碑。现在,导演苏汇宇重新翻拍了这部电影,比原作更加贴近剧本中的颠覆性。

Su’s version, which updates not only the technology but also the content to better reflect Taiwan’s diverse contemporary sexual realities, can be viewed as a four-channel video installation or a short film. Somewhere between respectful homage and radical remake, it resists easy classification, but partly for this reason it makes for a truly hypnotic watch. Su’s Dionysian vision celebrates queerness as something that refuses to be contained by normal modes of thought and experience. Instead, it presents the queer as what overflows and disturbs ordinary life, offering in its place agonies and ecstasies far stranger and more intense. To explore these themes in greater depth, I spoke with the artist about his remake, which had its European premiere in January at the International Film Festival Rotterdam.


苏汇宇的短片于今年 1 月在荷兰鹿特丹国际电影节上进行欧洲首映,也曾经在台湾以四道视频装置形式展出过。他的重拍有技术上的更新迭代,内容也更佳地反映当代台湾多元性别的现况。作品游移于对原作的致敬和激进的改编之间,难以定义。或许也正因如此,而更令人神往。苏汇宇纵欲狂欢的视界,颂扬“酷儿”作为一种对抗常规思维与经验模式制约的存在状态。伴随着更多诡异而强烈的痛楚和狂喜,它从庸常生活的框架中漫溢出来,并扰乱了原本的秩序。为了更深入探讨这些主题,我与这位艺术家讨论了他的作品。

Neocha: What was the initial impetus for The Glamorous Boys of Tang? What attracted you to the original work?

Su Hui-yu: Starting around 2012, I became interested in using my work to explore history in a dreamlike, psychedelic fashion. I drew on past works that were originally misunderstood, ahead of their times, or taboo, including films, photos, books, or counter-cultural events. Chiu Kang-chien’s The Glamorous Boys of Tang definitely fits this mold. But it wasn’t until 2016 that a well-known photographer and friend of mine, Chang Chao-tang, who was Chiu’s original cameraman, reminded me of the film.

I saw the movie posters when I was just a child, but revisiting the film again later, I understood why it was not commercially successful, and why the original script couldn’t be accurately reflected on screen. It was just too transgressive, with its beautiful boys, its threesomes, its juxtaposition of spiritual and sexual images, and its necrophilia. There was simply no way for it to be faithfully adapted in the martial law period. And so I became fascinated by the spirit of the original work and tried to reinterpret it to uncover new possibilities in an entirely different social context.


Neocha:《唐朝绮丽男》的最初创作动力是什么?是什么吸引你去看原作的?

苏汇宇: 2012年左右,我开始对一件事感兴趣——也就是借由自己的作品,以梦境般、迷幻的方式来探索历史。我利用了那些原本被误解、超前于时代或禁忌的作品,包括电影、照片、书籍或反文化事件。邱刚健的《唐朝绮丽男》绝对符合这个模式。但直到 2016 年,我的一个摄影师前辈张照堂,也是《唐朝绮丽男》本片的摄影,才让我再想起了这部电影。

我小时候就看过电影海报,但后来才真正看了电影。我明白为什么这部电影并不卖座,以及为什么最初的剧本不能在屏幕上准确地呈现。剧本实在太惊世骇俗了——漂亮的男孩、三人行、精神和性意象的并列,以及恋尸癖。在戒严时期,根本不可能忠实地将剧本翻拍成电影。因此,我被原著的精神深深吸引,并试图重新解释它,在一个完全不同的社会背景下发现新的可能性。

Neocha: Extremes of sex and violence play a role in this work and others by you. What keeps drawing you back to these themes?

Su Hui-yu: First, when viewed with unflinching eyes, sex and death are by their very nature beautiful. Second, when you juxtapose them, these two states seem to merge into something that transcends either of the individual terms. I was fascinated by this, but I also found that that these subjects and sentiments are not just personal but also closely tied to collective memories, society, ideologies, and moral systems.


Neocha: 在你的影片中有着极端的性与暴力。是什么让你回想起这些主题?

苏汇宇: 首先,当我们用无畏的眼光来看,性和死亡在本质上就是美丽的。其次,当你把它们并置时,性与死亡会融合为一,成为超越两者本身的某种状态。我对此非常着迷,但我也发现这些主题和情感不仅仅是个人的,还与集体记忆、社会、意识形态和道德体系紧密相连。

Neocha: In many ways, your interpretation of The Glamorous Boys of Tang seems incredibly queer but not “gay” in a straightforward or homonormative sense. How would you position your work vis-à-vis queer identities?

Su Hui-yu: To liberate our desires, we need to try to go beyond LGBT categorical thinking, no matter what our sexualities are. Only through a profound reconsideration of our bodies and minds can we shake off the vestiges of an ultimately conservative sexual imagination. In this respect, these matters should be important to everyone. This is what I took from Chiu Kang-chien’s film. Yes, it could be interpreted as a film about LGBT identities, but it could also be far more radical than that. So, for me, it’s not just a reshooting project but an attempt to redefine “queer” as a wider concept for everybody in order to free our bodies from outdated ideologies.


Neocha: 在某种意义上,你对《唐朝绮丽男》的改编带有很大的酷儿色彩,但这又不是一部传统同性恋霸权的“同志电影”。你如何定义作品对酷儿身份认同的观点呢?

苏汇宇: 依我之见,为了解放欲望,无论我们的性倾向是什么,都应该超越 LGBT 这种分类思维。只有通过深刻地反思身体和思想,我们才能扫除根本上保守的性想象。从这方面看来,这些问题对每个人都很重要。这是我从邱刚健电影里理解而来的内容。是的,它可以被解读为一部关于同性恋身份的电影,但它也可能远比那更激进。所以,对我来说,这不仅仅是一个重编的剧本,而是尝试重新定义“酷儿”为一个更广泛的概念,为了把我们的身体,从过时的意识形态中解放出来。

Websitesuhuiyu.com

 

Contributor: Brandon Kemp
Chinese Translation: Chen Yuan


网站suhuiyu.com

 

供稿人: Brandon Kemp
英译中: Chen Yuan

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