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The East Was Red

“The east is red, the sun is rising. From China comes Mao Zedong.” So goes China’s most famous propaganda song, “The East is Red.”

China in the 1960s and 1970s was indeed red. From the propaganda posters covering the streets and alleyways, to the copies of the little red book in everyone’s hands, to the Mao badges on their chests, red—symbolizing leftism, communism, socialism, and revolution—filled every aspect of people’s lives and thoughts.

In a new project entitled The East Was Red, artist Sheila Zhao finds old photographs from that time and retouches them, highlighting the political atmosphere of the time.


就像歌里唱的那样:“东方红,太阳升,中国出了个毛泽东。”

六七十年代的中国,确实是红色的。从大街小巷遍布的宣传画,到人手一份的 “毛主席语录” 或毛主席勋章——象征着左派、革命、社会主义和共产主义的政治红色,充斥着人们生活和思想的方方面面。

而这个系列名取自红歌《东方红》(The East Was Red),Sheila Zhao 找到当时的老照片,并进行了再度创作以突出那个时期的政治气氛。

Born in Beijing in the 1980s, at age seven Zhao moved to the US, where she grew up and studied. Of course, without the benefit of personal experience, Zhao is a stranger to those times, so hard for outsiders to grasp or comprehend.

But Zhao’s love of documentary photography, especially historical images, transports her back in time. “I’m not a historian or an expert in the Cultural Revolution, by any means,” she says. “I look at that time in history from the point of view of someone interested in the images it created, and in what that says about the country’s collective identity at the time.”


Sheila Zhao 其实是 80 后,在北京出生,七岁时搬到美国,并在那里完成了学业。照理说,Sheila 对那个时代是陌生的,没有亲身经历的加持,也很难理解和感受。

但对纪实摄影尤其是老照片的热忱,把 Sheila 带到了这段历史面前。“我不是一个历史学家,也不是一个研究当时运动的专家。我从一个对所创造的形象感兴趣的人的角度来看待历史上的那段时期,以及这个国家当时普遍存在的集体认同感。”

All of the images in The East Was Red, and all her other archival images, were acquired from second-hand antique markets near Beijing and Shanghai. As the majority of the photos were taken in the 1960s and 1970s, a common theme stood out:  “I noticed the photographer and those being photographed from this period, whether consciously or not, brought politics into the shot,” she says. Clearly, people in that time lived entirely under its shroud.

Fascinated by this, Zhao began retouching select photos from her collection, coloring over the posters, images, Mao badges, and books of quotations with a cherry red, using the color to stand in for these thoroughly political objects. On the one hand, this alludes to the color’s political significance, and on the other, it lets the viewer, who can see how prominent the red is, understand just how widespread Communist ideology and the cult of personality had become throughout China. 


《东方红》系列的所有照片,Sheila 档案中的其他照片一样,都是在北京和上海附近的古董二手市场淘到的。这个系列则大多选取于上世纪六七十年代间所拍摄的照片,几相比较,有个异常明显的特征浮现出来:“有趣的是,我注意到在这个时期,摄影者和被拍摄者都有意无意地把代表政治的东西包括进来。” 可见,那时期的人们完全生活在其笼罩之下。

于是,Sheila 在再度创作的过程中涂红了标语、照片、勋章和 “红宝书”。鲜艳的大红色被用以代替这些照片中这些充满政治意味的 “物件”,一来对应 “红” 的隐喻,二来,观者只消参见照片里红色有多么壮观,就能发现当时的共产主义思想和个人崇拜情结,在全中国是有多普及。

“China underwent a very unique socioeconomic movement at the time, which coincided with the rise of photography. It happened to be when cameras became more accessible, leading to more people using them as a means of self-expression,” Zhao says. “In the early 20th century, photography was still something that was reserved for the privileged. By the mid-20th century, cameras became even more common. Although they were still considered a luxury, there wasn’t that sense of exoticism of being imported anymore. Looking at photos from that era, it’s quite interesting to see how political doctrines influenced people’s lives.”


“中国当时所经历的是一场非常独特的社会经济运动,也恰巧发生在摄影史上,当时越来越多的人开始有机会通过摄影媒介表达自己的观点。” Sheila 说,“在 20 世纪初期,摄影仍然是特权阶层的活动。但到了中期,相机的使用开始变得越来越平民化,尽管还稍显奢侈,但它已不再那么具有‘舶来品’的异国气质。所以在照片中,我发现当时的政治辞令是如何影响人们描述和记录自己生活的方式,这是非常有趣的。”

Websitesheila-zhao.com

 

Contributor: Chen Yuan


网站sheila-zhao.com

 

供稿人: Chen Yuan

The Two Sides of Li Daiguo

 

无法观看?前往优酷

We caught up with Li Daiguo for an afternoon jam session, accompanied with vocals by Chacha and woven—perhaps—around the theme of sleep. Li’s music hovers on the edge of reality and nothingness, and listening to it you can’t tell, to paraphrase Chinese philosopher Zhuangzi, whether you’re dreaming you’re a butterfly, or whether you’re a butterfly dreaming you’re you. We’ve taken a part of the music and paired it with images, and we invite you to come along in this sonic reverie.

“Improvisation isn’t a genre, because it’s hard to determine what’s going to happen,” says Li. “Even if we repeat the performance, we’re ‘resuming’ it, not ‘replaying’ it, so it’s organic. You find a path in your own habits, a way in, and you have to protect it, build it up, so you can always get back, and then freely go on toward somewhere you never imagined.”


这是李带菓即兴的一个下午,和 Chacha 的人声一起,即兴的主旨也许关于睡眠。它像是现实与虚无的一个交界,你可能是庄周,可能是蝴蝶。后来我们重新剪接了音乐、配了画面,你只当一起做个梦,游一游。

“即兴不是一种风格,因为很难界定会发生什么。即使是我们所谓的重复它,也是我们‘仍在做’,而不是我们‘再次做’,所以它是有机的。你以自己的习惯找到一条路径,从那里进入,你如何保护它、如何建立它,以便你可以随时到达那里,再自由前往意想不到的地方。” 李带菓这样讲。

Who exactly is Li Daiguo?

First and foremost, a musician.

Born in the US, he first began studying Western classical instruments at the age of five. In his adolescent years, he explored instruments from other regions, and in college, he studied Chinese regional music and its cultural roots, while also studying twentieth-century literature and philosophy. Today, he’s become an established musician with experience in over 20 Eastern and Western instruments, in addition to beatboxing, Tuvan throat singing, and other vocal arts. For years he’s been going head-to-head with musicians from around the world, and this multifaceted exploration has led him to stop using labels to define himself. Whenever something resonates with him, he uses it to sow seeds, raise ripples. You never know where inspiration might come from,” he says. “Everything can influence me in some way.”


李带菓是谁?

音乐人是他的身份。

出生在美国,5 岁开始学习西方古典器乐,少年时接触了更多的地方器乐,到大学阶段便深入研习各地地域性音乐及其背后的历史文化,同时研究二十世纪文学和哲学。如今在二十多种东西方乐器和 beatbox、呼麦等人声中游弋,数年来与世界各地音乐人的“摩拳擦掌”,多维度的探索使得他摒弃了标签式的表象标准,他听到什么信息有共鸣,就拿那些来播下种子、掀起涟漪,“你不知道它来自哪里,因为所有东西都会对我产生影响。”

Listen to select tracks from Li Daiguo below / 点击即可试听李带菓的几首歌曲


Side A: “Listen”

 

So what’s the best way to approach Li’s music?

“All kinds of theories could easily be applied to explain the ideas behind my music,” he says. “But they might not entirely be true. The truth is . . . I don’t know! I just do something that feels good from my heart to my brain to my body. I’ll stop there. I’m not going to oversell it.” In marketing, the pitch is usually better than the product, he quips, then gives a belly laugh.

“So a lot of things are there for no reason, or the reason lies in what they do. Too many words, too little thought. The things we want to grasp are often beyond our control, so it’s best to stop right at the edge of what you can feel but can’t understand. Experience it, hold on to your perception.”

It’s nearly impossible to shoehorn his music into a theory, of course. His music seems to touch the truth or essence, as though it were the natural sounds of notes or the inner connections between things. It approaches the dao, but you can’t grasp the truth itself.


Side A:听”

 

到底,听他音乐的打开方式是什么?

“如果要套各种理论来解释我的音乐理念很容易,但可能不太真诚。真诚的应该是,我不知道呢!我就做一个让自己从心里到脑袋到身体都舒服的,我就停在那个里面,不再推销了。”各种名义的推销,噱头往往大于本质,李带菓直指出来,然后抱以率性地狂笑。

“所以很多东西,它没有理由,或者理由已经在它的行为里面。话太多,因为想法太少,那些想抓到的东西往往是超越我们控制范围的,所以不如停在你没办法知道的边界,但你感觉到了。去感受它,保持你的觉知。”

若以理论来强名于他的音乐,当然不太可能。他的音乐似乎在触摸真相或本质,犹如音律的自然发声、事物的内在联系……几近于道,而你无法抓住真相本身。

For performances, Li’s most frequently used instruments are the pipa, cello, and mbira (an African instrument that’s played by plucking it with a thumb). “When I use an instrument, I’ll think about the sound and vibrations it produces. I respect its original sound more because there’s a historical context there. It’s able to tap into a higher frequency. Someone asked me once, ‘That mbira instrument you use, why don’t you recreate something similar yourself? Or experiment with distortion pedals?’ The answer is simple. To me, the way the instrument was originally constructed is already close to perfection.”


李带菓最常用琵琶、大提琴和 Mbira(津巴布韦手指琴)来弹奏和创作,“在乐器使用上,我会从它的声音和振动来考虑,我更尊重它的原生音乐,因为它有那个历史,它能接通能量的概率更高。有人问我,你那个 Mbira 的非洲乐器,怎么不自己创作?或者加效果器做各种实验?因为对我来说,它那个系统和乐器的结合已几近完美。”

He adds, “So why do I perform with the cello and pipa? It’s because they’re fairly common instruments that many people are used to hearing here. From silk strings to steel strings, there’s so much potential in these instruments themselves, but frankly, old songs aren’t as compelling anymore. I spent much of my youth with these instruments, understanding their aesthetics, so I’d say I’ve become fluent in that language. But the mbira is a more narrowly regional instrument. It’s evolved in its own way. If in the future, I have the chance to express myself within that realm, I’ll let it happen. If not, I won’t fake it just to make something new.”


他又补充,“那为什么会用琵琶、大提琴创作?因为它们在地域范围内已经传播很广,丝弦也成了钢弦,这些乐器本身也有更多的可能性,老曲子的整个编曲没有那么大吸引力了。并且我从小在那个器乐的体系里,消化了它的审美,知道怎么用它的语言说话。但是 Mbira 地域性更窄,那个地区有他们慢慢的进化方式。但如果以后我能自然地在它的体系里说自己的话,那我也会允许它发生,如果没有,也不会为了‘新’去假装‘新’。”

Li’s wide-ranging insight into blending Chinese and Western culture is what allows him to experiment and innovate with musical instruments. “The real fusion is when music’s different souls are combined. There’s no incompatibility between past and present, because everything flows in one stream. As long as this fusion is still happening, then it’s just the evolution of a traditional form.”

“Those who aren’t willing to evolve have lost their way. Same for those who blindly pursue change, changing their posture and their performance. Then they add some drums, mix the traditional and the Western, the old and the new—their environment has warped their sensibilities. They’ve lost their roots, forgotten what’s most true. Perhaps this connection to roots is a sort of instinct, but if you truly seize its essence, you can summon its spirit.”


他对中西方文化融合的不拘一格的洞察力,的确带来了器乐上的更多探索与创新,“真正的混搭,混的是音乐的灵魂。并不存在过去与现在不相容,因为都在一条河里流淌,只要是这个东西还在发生,它就是一个传统的进化。”

“不愿意进化,是因为他们迷路了。或者有些人盲目地求变,变着姿势演奏,然后动次打次,传统加西方、老加新,环境的洗脑影响了审美,他们丢了根,忘了最真诚的东西。有可能这种根源性的链接是一种直觉,但如果是真的抓到了它的内在,那么你就可以把那个鬼叫出来。”

As of late, Li’s music sounds very electronic. “These are all acoustic instruments,” he clarifies. “All I’m doing is amplifying certain frequencies of their existing sound. It sounds like a synthesizer. A lot of people can’t believe the sound is being plucked from a string since it sounds like a group of instruments. But the instrument’s original sounds are all there, layered and nuanced. If you manipulate sound with acoustic instruments, you can be more flexible and create different sounds. The instrument shouldn’t be something you’re dependent on, but rather it should be a tool that represents and serves you.”


最近他又在做些听上去很电子的东西,“那些都是原声乐器,我只做了一件事,就是放大已经存在的声音的某个频率,听起来就像一个合成器。他们不相信那是一根弦弹出来的,感觉是一大堆乐器,其实那些原声状态都在,每一秒都和你的身体有共振,听起来更多微妙的层次。你用原声乐器去控制的话,更有选择更自由,也会有更多内容在那里面。是它在代表你、为你服务,而不是去依赖它。”


Side B: “Look”

 

What’s this kind of person like in everyday life?

As we chatted face to face over the table in the backyard of a vegetarian restaurant, his waist-length hair, sometimes gathered with a pin in a topknot, hung around his neck in a braid. The light breeze sprinkled parasol leaves onto our table and dishes. He brushed off the leaves and continued to eat with relish. “It doesn’t matter where you’re from. Everyone loves Chinese food,” Li surmised. “But 90% of the actual cuisine, most people probably can’t stomach. Many people have a limited palette.”


Side B:视”

 

这样一个人,在日常中会是什么样子呢?

我们在功德林后院的饭桌上面对面聊着,他及腰的长发盘在脑后、插上发簪,有时也会编起麻花辫绕在脖子上。风吹散的梧桐絮飘落在饭菜上,他撇一撇继续大口吃饭,“各种肤色的人,基本上都喜欢吃中国菜,也百分之九十吃不惯,他们的味觉比较窄。”

Curiously enough, Li—despite being a food lover—has actually been a vegetarian since he was 19. He believes we’re all animals. “People refuse to eat cats or dogs in many countries, but they’ll happily eat beef, pork, or poultry. They don’t view these things as related. But if you take the time to befriend a cow or a pig, you’ll discover the emotions they experience are the same emotions we experience. Their actions and feelings are similar enough that we shouldn’t be seeing them as only meat. I’m not a vegetarian because of dietary restrictions or an opposition to killing. It’s because these animals are products as soon as they’re born. That’s pretty bad.”


我却是好奇那么爱吃的一个人,却从 19 岁就开始奉行素食,他认为我们都是动物,“比如说很多国家的人,他不吃猫狗,但他会吃牛和猪、吃鸭吃鸡,他不会把那些当成有关系的东西,但如果你去试一下,跟一头牛或猪有感情,然后反射一下人与人之间的那些感情、各种行为,已经够接近到我们没必要去这样分。我吃素不是吃或者杀的问题,是因为从它们一存在就是一个商品,这个不是特别好。”

As we walked along the sidewalk after our meal, he carried his pipa on his back and lugged his cello behind him. Craning his neck to speak, he stumbled on a step and nearly took a tumble, but he recovered his balance with a series of comedically theatrical movements. Having spent the afternoon together, I was already quite familiar with his silliness, but the absurdity of the maneuver still left me laughing. “You know Charlie Chaplin?” he asked. “You could say that he’s a pessimist. But he wanted to make the world a better place with his comedy. I’m the same way. I know all of his choreographed movements come from the heart. I want to be the Charlie Chaplin of music. It’s my dream,” he said with a decisive glint in his eyes.


茶余饭后的路上,他背着琵琶、拖着提琴,顾着讲话就没留意人行道的上下台阶,绊了个踉跄,刚反应过来就顺势做起戏剧化的夸张肢体动作。其实聊了那么会儿,我们已在一个频道里见怪不怪,但仍旧被逗乐了,他讲:“你知道卓别林,你也许可以说他是一个悲观主义者,但他通过他的喜剧是想做些好事情,我也是。他所有的那些动作那些编剧,我知道他是用什么心在做,我跟他是一样的,我要做各种音乐卓别林,这是我的梦想。”李带菓尤其肯定的闪着光芒在说。

Later on, as I combed through all of the audio and video footage, I noticed that he would often approach the camera or the microphone to add a high-pitched “Ah!” as a coda to something he’d said. Li’s playful quirkiness, mischievous tendencies, and contagious charm have won over those who’ve been fortunate enough to get to know him.

In the past, Li used to be fond of words and language, but then he grew tired of writing and concluded that true expression didn’t need very much actual language—and that language itself could be another musical form. So he then blended words into his music, either through singing, recitation, speech, laughing and crying, or in duets with one instrument and one voice, telling a story, singing a story in the music. He also began making film shorts and theater pieces.”


在后期整理时,我发现在录音或影像的收尾,他常常会凑近镜头或者话筒发一声短促音高的“啊”作为结束。这些小细节让见过李带菓的人,也大多会被他的调皮、他的趣味、乃至他的妖娆所感染。

他以前很喜欢语言和文字,后来写多了,就觉得真实的表达不需要那么多实际的语言,它也可以是另外一种音乐表现形式。于是他接下来会把词融进他的音乐里,从好好唱,到朗诵、说话、哭笑,或者一个乐器加一个人,在音乐里讲故事、唱故事。同时,他也开始做小短片和剧目。


Li currently lives in Dali, China, a town known for its beautiful mountains, clouds, and scenery. There he can enjoy the brilliant splendor of the great outdoors.

In the natural world, all sound is improvised. What we call music is adding to or subtracting from these existing vibrations.


如今李带菓居住在大理,那里的山、云、日月都很美,可以在大太阳底下奔跑。

声音在自然声场里即兴涌动,我们对振动传播的信息做了加减法,便成了那个被叫做音乐的存在。

“Nobody can create music that resonates with everyone, everywhere, at all times,” he says. “Only the sounds of nature hold this universal appeal: the sounds of cascading waterfalls, chirping birds, rolling ocean waves, and the pitter-patter of rain. In terms of transmission strength, nature is definitely the most powerful. If you want truly stereoscopic sound, you might as well go into the wilderness and take in the sounds rather than purchase a bunch of fancy equipment. It’s extremely pure. Your mood or mental state can only affect how much of that beauty you can take in. Or from another perspective, the cars outside, the fruit vendor’s call—if you can listen to how they come together, that’s also a kind of natural beauty. Or again, if you’re not influenced by your body, by material values, but can tune in directly to the universe, that’s also a way. In that case, music and art are unnecessary—they’re superfluous, they become self-expression. So I’m just a bird, and all I’m doing is chirping.”


“没有人可以做出让所有人在所有地区所有时代都接受的音乐,只有瀑布、鸟叫、大海、雨声,可以让人应该都会产生共鸣。从传播能量的角度来说,肯定是大自然提供的是最有力的。你搞立体声,搞各种声音装置什么,不如去森林里面,没办法,那个东西是非常纯粹的,那个根是在声音里面,你的状态和情绪只会影响你能吸收那个美的多少。换个角度来讲,外面的车、卖水果的吆喝,如果你能听到他们结合的一个点,那也是他们完成的一个自然美。再或者如果你不受五脏六腑、物质价值体系的影响,而是直接从宇宙里接收信息,那也是一种方式。那样说的话,是不是什么音乐什么艺术都是不需要了,都是多余的,都是为了自我表达。所以我也只是一只鸟,我也在叫而已。”

Music is a journey for your senses, it’s a vessel, a medium that allows you to visit unknown realms. It’s something that allows you to tune into internal and external experiences. Music is indescribable.

“In a sense, music is a conversation with another universe,” Li says. “One that goes beyond all the small talk of our daily lives.”


音乐是当下的感官旅行,是一个载体、一个渠道,停在不知的边界,引你进入更内外的体验,不可描述。

“那是在另一个世界的交谈,在某种意义上,胜过今日我们听到的许多交谈。”

Website: lidaiguo.com
Xiami: ~/lidaiguo

 

Photographer & Contributor: Chan Qu
Videographers: Anais Siab, Damien Louise
Special Thanks to ChaCha & Yongfoo Elite


网站: lidaiguo.com
虾米~/lidaiguo

 

图片摄影师与供稿人: Chan Qu
视频摄影师: Anais Siab, Damien Louise
特别鸣谢 ChaCha 与雍福会

Balancing Act

Holes

Shanghai-based artist and designer Tan Chengyan paints only a handful of subjects: women’s bodies, mushrooms, circles, and holes. Simple shapes fit her abstract style. She views her art as a balancing act between emotion and logic, and a desire for balance likewise runs through her life, both as she alternates between art and design and as she selects the tools to produce her work.


上海艺术家和设计师谭成彦笔下的主题——女性身体、蘑菇、圆圈和洞——寥寥可数,与她的抽象派风格相得益彰。艺术对她来说,是感性与理性之间的平衡,也是贯穿了她的生活的渴求:无论是艺术和设计之间的思维转换,或是具体到绘画创作时的工具选择。

Mushroom Mushroom Mushroom 1
Women on the Blue Tree

Water and ink represent her emotional side. The first thing she does when creating a new painting is to dampen the paper with water and draw the main shapes in ink. Then she watches as the ink bleeds onto the wet surface. “The procedure of brushing paper with water is particularly important—it leads me to a state beyond consciousness,” says Tan. Seeing ink merging with water, her mind enters a zen space, and that’s when the shapes start to materialize.

Then her logical side, represented by acrylic, gouache, and colored pencils, takes over. She draws the shapes with acrylic or gouache on top of the initial layer and waits until their edges blur. Only at that point does she have a clear idea about the painting’s subject. She then adds details and clarifies subjects with colored pencils.

Underneath these soft and feminine shapes lies a slow process of creation that she describes as “primitive and organic,” and which gives her works their vital simplicity. These themes are also part of an organic process.


水和墨如同她感性的一面。作画时,她会先把画布和纸全部涂湿,用墨在上面做出基本图形,看着水和墨互相交融,形成自己的模样,“上水这一步对我来说特别重要,因为它是让我进入到 ‘意识外’ 状态最关键的一步。”当墨与水相互交融,她慢慢沉浸其中,画面便开始在脑中成形。

而丙烯、水粉和彩色铅笔则代表了她理性的一面。用丙烯或水粉在第一层上画出形状后,随着图形边缘慢慢晕开,她脑中才会出现对主题的定义。最后则会用彩色铅笔铅勾线,去以凸显图形并让主题更加清晰。

她的画作常由柔软、婀娜的形状组成。其中循序渐进的创作过程——用她自己的话说是 “原始、有机的”——带来了简洁、充满生命力的效果。而这个主题的成形也是一个有机的过程。

A Big Woman and an Orange Girl
A Big Woman and an Orange Girl (process)
A Big Woman and an Orange Girl (process)

Tan first began drawing circular, hole-like shapes in high school, though at the time she didn’t know what prompted them. In middle school, she had struggled under the intense pressures of academic competition, and when she was admitted to an arts high school, the relaxed, free environment made her feel as though “she had suddenly opened up.”


从高中开始,她就在纸上记录这些图形,虽然当时并不知道特别原因。在那之前,她就读的是普通初中,常常被排名和学业的压力闷得透不过气,而在高中考上了艺术院校后,自由和放松的环境让她感觉 “自己一下子就释放了”。

States 7, No. 2
State 5, No. 8
States 5, No. 9
States 8, No. 2

Looking back, Tan thinks her adolescent years set the stage for her later work. A budding sexuality left her at times feeling lost and at times full of hot-blooded passion: “I just felt an energy I needed to release. What was it? I don’t know, but on the paper before me, I saw those forms.”

College was another dark period, and Tan took refuge in the library, where she discovered, in art books and journals, the work of pioneering artists like Yayoi Kusama and Georgia O’Keeffe, who profoundly influenced her approach to artistic expression.


回望过去,她觉得对性懵懵懂懂,时而失落、时而满血复活的青春期,奠定了她后来创作主题的雏形——“觉得心中有种能量想要释放出来,那是什么样的东西呢?我不知道,但就这样自然而然地出现在了我面前的纸上。”

大学对于她来说,是另一个黑暗时期。于是,图书馆变成了成彦最爱去的地方,她也在当时大量接触了草间弥生(Yayoi Kusama)、乔治亚·欧姬芙(Georgia O’Keeffe)等以女性主题闻名的先锋艺术家家的作品。这对她自身的艺术表达方式造成了深远的影响。

Three Women and the Sunset

A turning point came in 2009, when, after graduating from college, Tan decided to move to the Netherlands to pursue a master’s in fine arts. Not only was this her “most prolific” period, it also, more importantly, helped her give expression to the forms she had been seeing in her mind all those years.

“Women’s bodies, mushroom shapes, holes, and circles: all these connect me to energy of the universe. When I paint these shapes, I always feel I’m elevated to a higher spiritual plane beyond material things,” she says, “I start to think that a lot of problems in my life aren’t really problems, because when I enter that level I’m more tolerant of everything that occurs in life.”


2009年可以她艺术创作的折点,当大学毕业后,成彦选择了去荷读艺术硕士。时间最“多”的候,也让长中的一一呈现。

的身体、蘑菇形状、洞和圆圈接通我和宇宙能量我就感觉自己被带到了超越物质层面的更深层的精神空间成彦,“我会现实中的很多问题问题了,因到了那个层次之后对生活中的一切都变得更加包容。

Do the female forms she creates represent herself, then?  Tan doesn’t think so. “It would be too restrictive to say this is me.  Through the female shapes I paint, I want to explore a path to the universe.”

In terms of life, if art is her emotional side, her logical self comes forward through design. In 2017, Tan and her partner, Carmelo Ferreri, founded the design studio Melo & Yan, which specializes in branding and illustration. In her opinion, and in her practice, art and design are not opposed to one another, but rather nourish each other. “Design reflects the times, and can also inspire my art. It’s a balance,” she says. That’s also her attitude toward art: “It’s only good when all elements reach a balance.”


那么,画中的女性代表了她自己吗?她并不这么觉得:“如果说这是自己,有点太限制了,因为我想通过创作的女性图像探索通往宇宙的通道。”

在生活层面,如果说她在艺术创作时是感性的,那么她理性的自己则会在做设计时出现。谭成彦在 2017 年和另一半 Carmelo Ferreri 成立 Melo & Yan 设计工作室,专注品牌设计与插画。在她眼里,艺术与创作并不矛盾,而是有着相互滋养的关系:“设计更加能体现时代的信息,也可以给创作带来灵感。就是个平衡,” 这也是她对画的态度,“一张画,能达到平衡才是比较优秀的作品”。

Website: chengyantan.com
Instagram: @chengyan_tan

 

Contributor & Photographer: Jiang Yaling
Additional Images Courtesy of Tan Chengyan


网站: chengyantan.com
Instagram: @chengyan_tan

 

供稿人: Jiang Yaling
附加图片由 Tan Chengyan 提供

Da Tou Ma’s “How to Write a Worstseller” (excerpt)

Text no. 1: How to Write a Worstseller

 

One summer day five years ago, I got a phone call from a city on the coast. The voice on the other end of the line, deep and measured and deliberate, congratulated me on being chosen to take part in a writers’ workshop, and instructed me to leave the very next day for the place it would be held, a small island not far from that coastal city. Room and board would be provided for the entire two weeks, but I’d have to cover my own travel expenses. The voice hung up before I could reply.

At the time I was at home with my girlfriend in the middle of a fight, desperate to come up with a reply to the last thing she’d said. My first thought was that this was a scam. My second thought was a sudden jolt of inspiration: I found the perfect comeback for the fight. I set down the phone and was about to go on arguing, but my girlfriend turned and asked who’d called. I stopped short, put my comeback on hold, and repeated what I’d just heard. “You’re such an idiot, it’s obviously a scam,” she said.


作品1号: 不畅销小说写作指南

 

五年前夏天,我接到一通电话。电话是从一个沿海城市打来的,语音不疾不徐,富有磁性,恭喜我被选入了大师班,隔日就请奔赴指定上课地点,地点在该沿海城市不远的岛屿上,为期半个月,食宿全包,来回路费自理。对方没等我反应过来就挂了电话,当时我正在家里和女朋友吵架,苦苦陷于如何反唇相讥的困局里,第一反应是这是这个诈骗电话,第二反应是忽然一个晴天霹雳,我获得如何回击女友的灵感了!我搁下电话,想再找她理论,她却转而问我电话的事。我一愣,心里把那道灵感暂存在一边,如实回答了她电话的情况。“你傻啊,肯定是诈骗电话。”她和我想得一模一样。


She had exactly the same thought I did. But now that she’d said it, I couldn’t just agree. I could only counter with: “Not necessarily.”

“What do you mean, not necessarily?”

“Maybe it really is some kind of writing seminar.”

“Then why did they choose you?”

She had a point. Aside from a literary club at university that I briefly got talked into joining, I’d never had a thing to do with literature. Once, carried away by the passion of the club’s president, I drunkenly proclaimed that I too would “one day become a writer.” But I’d never written a single line, and after I got together with my girlfriend, who at the time was the club’s vice-president, I didn’t attend any more of their events. My girlfriend, too, soon quit, and went from aspiring writer to ordinary young bank employee, scrolling through online romance novels on her phone. She’s always been a bit ahead of me in terms of income, though thankfully only a bit. I suppose I did have one writing-related job: after graduation I worked for a text-message marketing company, mostly composing spam texts. In reality, I’d just cut and paste from the ad copy manual. Now I work at a real estate research firm, where my main responsibility is to draft proposals for clients, essentially putting garbage into PowerPoint form.


结果她这么一说,我倒无法附和她的意见,只好反击道,“那也不一定。”

“怎么不一定了?”

“没准儿就是真的什么培训班呢。”

“那他们为什么选中了你?”

是啊。这辈子除了在大学时招新被忽悠进了一段时间的文学社,我和“文学”二字从未发生过任何关系。除了配合社长的热情,喝醉后附议过“以后要成为一名作家”的理想外,没干过任何一件写作有关的事。当我和当时还是文学社副社长的女朋友好上之后,就再也没参加过社团的活动。女朋友也很快卸任副社长,从有志于成为一名女作家,变成了如今捧着手机读网络言情小说在银行上班的普通女青年。收入永远走在我前面一点点,还好只是一点点。非要说和“写”这个动作有关的事的话,大学毕业后我在一家短信公司工作,主要内容是撰写垃圾营销短信,实际就是抱着文案书拼贴。如今我在一家房地产研究院上班,主要内容是给各位甲方写方案,本质上是把废话以PPT的形式组织起来。


No, I couldn’t think of a reason I’d be chosen for a writing workshop. Unless it was a scam.

Or maybe—

“Or maybe I really do have some literary talent, it just hasn’t been discovered yet,” I ventured.

“You?” My girlfriend looked at me. “Ha!”

Often our fights would grind to a halt with that laugh of hers, not because I wanted them to grind to a halt, but because I just couldn’t muster a response. I’d sit there like a dud bomb, and she’d act as though nothing had happened. Through a sort of unspoken agreement, we’d both pretend the whole thing had blown over.

There’s nothing enviable about this. Anyone who’s been in a relationship for more than three years has these kinds of unspoken agreements, and my girlfriend and I had been together for six. I can’t say I hadn’t thought about marriage, of course, nor that she hadn’t thought about finding a new boyfriend. During our first three years we must have broken up 800 times, but in the last three years, we both concluded that breaking up wasn’t so different from getting married, and not mentioning the word “breakup” had become one of our unspoken rules. The other unspoken rules included not exposing each other’s lies, not warning each other we were about to make a mistake, not putting our lives on hold for each other, even for a second. Really, aside from a minor fight each week and a major fight each month, we weren’t doing so bad. And the prospect of staying together had its appeal: as time went by, our fights would gradually become less frequent, so that by the day we died, we’d have returned to the honeymoon phase when we could communicate without words. We’d have grown old together.

But this time, I had that comeback to use! Had it not been for that phone call interrupting us, I bet we’d still be hashing out that fight. Who was right and who was wrong had yet to be determined.


是的。我想不出有什么理由会被一个写作培训班选中。除了这是一场骗局。

也有可能是——

“也有可能是我真的有什么文学天赋,只是还没被发现。”我说。

“你?”女朋友看了我一眼,笑了。

有很多次我们的争吵都是在她这副笑容之后就戛然而止了,不是我想戛然而止,而是我实在想不出用什么来回击她这副笑容。我一哑炮,她也会进入那种一切都没发生过的状态,我们就配合默契地假装一切真的已经烟消云散了。

这没什么可羡慕的,只要你谈恋爱超过三年,都会和伴侣形成这份默契,而我和女朋友,已经在一起六年了。我当然不是没想过结婚,她也不是没想过换个男友,前三年我们分了八百遍手,后三年我们都觉得分手和结婚其实没什么区别,不提分手二字成了我们的默契之一。其余默契还包括不会戳穿对方撒的谎,不会提醒对方即将犯的错,不会为对方暂停一秒自己的生活。除了每周一小吵每月一大吵,我们的日子过得还不赖。这事儿还有奔头可想:随着时间流逝,我们将继续逐年降低吵架的频率,到死的那天,我们将回到恋爱的最开始阶段,无需言语便可沟通。到此,我们也就完成了白头偕老。

但是这一次,我明明已经获得了那道神赐予我的灵感啊!如果不是这个中途插入的电话,我相信这一架我们还有的可吵。真理站在谁的那边还输赢未定呢。


That’s why this time I ignored her laugh. “Yes, me. What’s so funny?”

She didn’t expect me to keep going. She gave me a look, then suddenly opened her mouth and reeled off: “The wind is heedless of the slender branch, no dew ignites the cinnamon leaf’s fragrance.”

I didn’t turn around. What did that mean?

Slowly, she asked, “What comes next?”

All at once I understood. That was something I wrote for her in college. After she read it she asked, much to my surprise, what the next two lines were. How should I know what the next two lines were? Those were the only ones I copied out of that volume of Li Shangyin’s selected verse! At the time we were head over heels in love, and naturally this awkward little episode had been quickly swept under the rug. I couldn’t believe she still remembered.

She saw I didn’t respond, and laughed again. “Ha!”

It was that second laugh that made me make up my mind.

The next morning, when I’d packed my bags and was getting ready to leave, my girlfriend, who had just gotten up, groggily asked where I was off to. “The workshop,” I coolly replied. Then I walked out the door and didn’t look back.


于是我没有像以往那样理会她的笑容,“我怎么了?”

女朋友没想到我会继续,她看了我一眼,突然张口道,“风波不信菱枝弱,月露谁教桂叶香。”

我没转过弯来。这是什么意思?

她缓缓道,“之后呢?”

我立刻明白了。这是当年上学时我写给她的,没想到她看了之后问我下两句是什么,我哪儿知道下两句是什么啊?我从李商隐诗选里就抄了这两句啊!当时我们正在热恋中,这个小小的尴尬自然被草草忽略过去了。没想到她一直记到现在。

她见我没反应,又是一笑。

就是她这第二次的笑容促使我下了决定。

第二天一早,我收拾好了行李,准备出门时女朋友刚起床,她迷迷糊糊地问我是要去哪儿。我甩下一句,“去上大师班。”然后头也不回地走出了大门。


How to Write a Worstseller
by Da Tou Ma
Hunan Literature and Art Publishing House, 2017

Click here to go back to the original article.

 

English Translator: Allen Young


《不畅销小说写作指南》
大头马 著
长沙: 湖南文艺出版社,2017

点击此处返回原文

 

英语翻译: Allen Young


Motion Type Project

With the advent of digital media, motion graphic design’s role in the dissemination of information is becoming even more important. By using a combination of animated images, text, and other dynamic elements, motion graphics help convey information in an easily digestible and visually engaging way. But despite the ubiquity of motion graphics today, most projects rely on the Latin alphabet and relatively few projects with Chinese characters even exist.

Due to the complex nature of Chinese script – where shape, sound, and meaning are interwoven into each character – design guidelines tailored for Western script aren’t suitable for the Chinese written language.

To help Chinese-speaking designers reconsider the possibilities of Chinese motion design, Taiwanese designer and creative director of Studio 411 Ting-An He created Motion Type Project. The project, which was showcased via a series of exhibition, highlights how a Chinese character’s square-block limitations, strokes, and polysemous nature can be reimagined as moving text. The innovative project went on to take Best Design at the 2017 Golden Pin Design Award.


随着数字媒体的发展,动态图文设计也逐渐扮演起资讯图像传播的重要角色。通过文字、图画和动态元素的结合,动态图文帮助传达更易于理解的视觉资讯。然而到目前为止,在多数动态图文的著名案例中,都以西文字体为主,很少见到特别针对中文动态设计做探讨的相关实验创作。

中文的造字系统和书写方式,与西文的拉丁字母有多处不同,其“形音义”能够相互结合。若套用西文动态设计的方法,则未必全然合适。

为了帮助中文设计师重新思考汉字动态设计的可能性,来自台湾的汉字动态专案的设计师何庭安、台北市411影像工作室的创意总监,借此发展出《汉字动态专案》,并举办了一系列大规模的动态设计实验巡迴展览,呈现汉字所独有的横竖撇捺、复杂笔画、方正结构、一字多义等特性。

《汉字动态专案》就是为完全从中文字出发创作的动态设计展览,荣获了 2017 年金点设计奖年度最佳设计奖

Dōng (or 东 in simplified Chinese) translates to "east."
Zhù (or 筑) translates to "build."
Yóu (油) translates to "oil."
Shuǐ (水) translates to "water."

“Soon after Motion Type Project was launched, a large number of Chinese graphic and motion designers responded,” Ting-An He tells us, beaming with pride. “It created a more experimental and boldly creative atmosphere around motion design and typography in the region. Although many people will imitate or plagiarize our work, I have long dreamed of seeing this scene come to life in the graphic design industry.”


“在专案上线后不久,涌现了大量同样使用中文的平面与动态设计师同业们,他们也引发了对于字体的动态设计更加实验、大胆的创作风气。虽然有不少人将之认定为模仿或抄袭,但这反而是我对于平面设计界期待已久、极度乐见的景况。”何庭安如是说。

Fēng (or 风 in simplified Chinese) translates to "wind."
Tàn (弹 in simplified Chinese) translates to "elastic."
Jié (截) translates to "cut."
Kuāng (框) translates to "frame."
(玉) translates to "jade."

Hanzi

 

无法观看?前往优酷

Language is the foundation of culture. Fascinated by the relationship between the two, Taiwanese filmmakers Mu-Ming Tsai, Iris Lai, and Emily Hsiang were inspired to create Hanzi, a documentary that gives insight into Chinese visual culture and celebrates the beauty of Chinese typography.


语言是文化的基础。《汉字》(Hanzi)就是一部以中文汉字为主题,试图阐述汉字文化的纪录片。来自台湾的蔡牧民、赖佩芸、项蓝三人组成了一支拍摄团队,长久生活在中文环境的他们,把对这些美丽字体的重新省思,全都藏进影片的字里行间。

“We found that Taiwan, more than anywhere else, has preserved traditional Chinese characters, or hanzi,” they note. (Mainland China uses a set of simplified hanzi.) “Every day we’re surrounded by this beautiful script, but we had never really sought to understand and appreciate it.” Beyond investigating character design, the filmmakers also use the documentary as a way to discuss other questions, such as how an ad’s typography exerts a subtle influence on viewers, how language shapes identity, and how handwriting is declining in the digital age. Seeking to explore even more possibilities in hanzi, they’ve interviewed people in United States, the United Kingdom, Hong Kong, Japan, and Taiwan.


“我们发现台湾是保存繁体字最完整的地方,而我们每天都环绕着这些美好的汉字,却不曾好好去了解或欣赏。” 除了对字体设计的研究,拍摄团队想借题讨论的议题还有很多,像是广告招牌上的字型视觉对人们潜移默化的影响、语言如何塑造身份认同、手写字在数位时代的式微变化等等。团队在拍摄期间内造访了美国、英国、香港、日本和台湾等地方,他们丢出了问题,在和众多访谈者的对话之中,寻找汉字更多的可能性。

One person they interview is Shao-Lan Hsueh, the creator of Chineasy, a visual approach to learning Chinese. Raised in Taiwan and based in England, Hsueh has designed a more fun, more effective learning method for anyone who studies Chinese as a second or heritage language.

This method takes advantage of the fact that Chinese writing is logographic. Unlike in English or other alphabetic writing systems, in logographic systems, the composition of a character can itself express meaning. Hsueh’s series of rich visual designs breaks hanzi down one by one, so that by looking at an image you can immediately connect it with a character’s meaning.


其中一位访谈对象,是图像式中文学习法 Chineasy 的创办人薛晓岚。她是一位住在英国的台湾人,为了下一代必须在外语环境中学习中文,她设计了一套让学中文更有趣、更有效的方法。

这套方法充分运用了中文是语素文字的原理。有别于像英语这类型“字”是用来协助发音的表音文字,语素文字本身“字”的组成就可以表达意义。这一系列丰富的视觉设计,把中文造字一一拆解,看图就可以直接联想到字义。

Another notable voice in the film is Jieguan Zhang, the owner of Rixing Type Foundry. Located in Taiwan, Rixing Type Foundry is the last surviving foundry for traditional characters, and it holds nearly 300,000 lead slugs inside. Twenty years ago, the advent of digital typesetting put an end to the age of printing as an art. Casting movable type is a technique that’s no longer needed, and one after another the foundries that used to support several households have now closed. Only Rixing, founded in 1969, remains. The reason lies in Zhang’s fondness for the profession of casting type: he doesn’t have the heart to let a tradition of such historical significance disappear forever. That’s why he’s fought to preserve this small storefront and the invaluable foundry inside.


另一位值得一提的访谈者,是日星铸字行的老板张介冠。位在台北的日星铸字行是世上仅存唯一的繁体中文铸字行,店内收藏了近三十万个铸铅字。二十年前,数位排版软体的出现终结了印刷术的年代。专为活版印刷存在的铸字技术,如今已不再被需要,曾经养活好几人家的铸字行,也一间一间关门了。其中日星铸字行是从 1969 年创立以来,坚持下来的最后一间。原因是张老板对铸字这行业的一片心意,不忍心让这项承载着重要历史意义的传统永远消失,于是把这一间小小的店铺,和里面极具价值的铸字,努力保存下来。

Everyone interviewed in the film is deeply engaged in the innovation and preservation of Chinese characters. In addition to Hsueh and Zhang, the film includes enlightening conversations with font designers, billboard makers, and some sixteen other people. “In the process of shooting, even we learned a lot,” admit the filmmakers. “We hope that Hanzi leads people to rediscover the typefaces around them, and learn about how characters are designed, and how important language is to culture. And if after seeing it you start to feel proud or thankful for this part of our culture, even better.”

Hanzi is now available for purchase. For more information, please visit their official website.


影片中每一位访谈者,对汉字领域的保存或创新都具有重要的意义。除了以上两位,片中还收录了像是字体设计师、看板匠人等将近二十位人士充满智慧的对谈。“其实包括我们自己,在拍摄过程中也学到了很多。我们希望《汉字》这部纪录片可以重新引起大家对身边字型的认识,了解到中文字的设计过程,以及语言对文化的重要性。如果能让你开始对这份文化感到感激或骄傲,那就更好了。”

《汉字》现在已发行!想要进一步获得放映及购买的资讯的话,可以到官网查询。

Website: www.hanzithemovie.com
Facebook
~/hanzithemovie

 

Contributor: Yang Yixuan


网站www.hanzithemovie.com
Facebook
: ~/hanzithemovie

 

供稿人: Yang Yixuan

Darting Between Fiction & Reality

  • Book by Wo Shi Bai. Swipe to read.

“Ludicrous.”

“A fiction within a fiction.”

“Cuts between perspectives in time and space.”

“Just read through your comics, some of them are really deadpan and really funny, some of them I don’t quite get, some of them really hit you in the gut.”

“The author is 30? Hahaha.”

“The author’s got to be a woman…”

All these are messages and comments left by readers of the comics of Wo Shi Bai, whose pen name literally means “I Am White.” For his fans, these comments have just about become required reading. Sometimes they point out a detail in a comic you missed, sometimes they leave you marveling at the reader’s overactive imagination.

And sometimes Wo Shi Bai will write a few words in reply, such as: “Thanks for the messages. I notice most of the feedback comes from people who don’t understand the comics or don’t get the point. Honestly, I drew them to record boring everyday experiences, really ordinary stuff. The first part is about the book the main character’s reading, or related to his mental state.”


“好荒诞!”
“虚构性虚构。”
“时空视角切换。”
“刚刷了遍你的漫画,有些很冷很好笑,有些看不太懂,也有些一下击中心脏。”
“作者 30 岁?哈哈哈~”
“作者是女生吧……”

这些是读者看了我是白的漫画后,给他的留言和评论。这些内容几乎成了观看他的漫画之后,大家必不可少也会去阅读的一部分。甚至有的时候,这些留言会让你发现漫画里之前没有发现的一个细节,或者竟然读者的脑洞可以这样大之类的感叹。

有的时候我是白也会回复大家几句,比如:“谢谢楼上的留言,我发现大部分反馈是看不懂或者不知道点在哪里,其实我画这篇漫画就是记录一段日常琐事,很平淡的内容,开头一段是表达男主在看的书的内容,或者是与他的精神状态的联系。”

From Chuck & The Portal / 来自《查克与传送门》
From Chuck & The Portal / 来自《查克与传送门》

As a comic artist in the internet age, Wo Shi Bai has been in dialogue with these unseen critics from the start. You could even say that the very existence of these readers, both the ones who get it and the ones who don’t, is what gave Wo Shi Bai the chance to change his life and focus on his creative work. That’s jumbling the timeline, though: in reality, it was an assignment from Gummi Comics in early 2017 that led Wo Shi Bai to start drawing seriously. Yet as anyone who’s read his work knows, this kind of jumble is the precisely what makes his comics so engaging: they leap and dart across space and time. Comics have an expressiveness that gives him a great deal of creative freedom.

“After drawing a few comics,” he says, “I found that a lot of ideas I couldn’t express in a single image I could express easily in comic form.”


作为一个互联网时代的漫画家,我是白的创作从一开始就和这些看不见的读者紧密地联合在了一起,或者说正是有这些看不懂和看得懂的读者的存在,才得以让我是白遇到了一个改变了他生活和创作的机遇。

这样讲似乎有点时间逻辑混乱,其实是因为 2017 年初的一次来自于《软糖漫画》的约稿,才让我是白真正开始画起了漫画。但是如果你也看过他的那些漫画,你就会明白这样的混乱恰恰是他漫画里一个很有趣的特质。从一个空间跳跃到另一个空间,从一个时间穿越到另一个时间。漫画的这种表达方式,给了他很大的创作自由,“在画了一些漫画之后,我发现我有蛮多单幅画面传达不了的想法可以用漫画的形式顺畅表达。”

  • Swipe to read.

  • This is my last story for Gummi Comics.

  • When I was coming up with the story, I started getting a migraine.

  • It usually takes three to four hours before I feel better.

  • I’ll feel better with the lights off. I’ll just sit in the dark and wait for the headache to pass.

  • Not doing anything, I began to drift into the recesses of my memories.

  • In 1997, my mom went to Japan to work at a clothing factory there. Seeing her off at the airport was the first time I took a taxi.

  • I was in first grade at the time, and I got extremely carsick. I regretted going along to see her off. (If I’d known I wouldn’t have come…)

  • My dad had been in a hospital long-term, and for the next three years I lived with my grandparents, aunt, and uncle.

  • All I did the whole day was play with the kids living nearby.

  • We brewed concoctions with pills, dead insects, and leaves.

  • Stuck firecrackers in toads’ mouths.

  • There was a kid a few years younger than us, and we didn’t always include him.

  • To grab our attention, he’d pretend to poop or masturbate.

  • Most of the time in the summer I’d watch T.V. by myself at home.

  • Sometimes I’d climb out of the second-floor windows and get lost gazing up at the sky.

  • The rooftop panels were burning hot in the sun.

  • In the building across the way, I’d sometimes see a little girl.

  • We’d undress for each other.

  • My memory is hazy. Maybe it was just me who undressed.

  • At the time, landlines had just become commonplace.

  • But I was terrified of picking up the phone. I don’t know why. Whenever it rang, I’d throw a blanket over it to muffle the sound.

  • Or sometimes I’d quietly pick it up and listen for a bit before gently hanging up. (Hello? Hello? Hello? That’s weird, someone definitely picked up…)

  • One particularly boring afternoon, I went through every corner of our house.

  • In a bedside cabinet, I found a pile of five-mao coins. I exchanged them for a kind of popsicle called “Mr. Banana.”

  • I also dug up my aunt and uncle’s book that taught newly married couples how to maintain their relationship.

    I also flipped through my aunt and uncle’s

  • At the time, Hong Kong just transferred its sovereignty back to China. By the time Macau was handed back over, my mom moved back.

  • I used the allowance money she gave me to buy accessories for my Mini 4WD racer.

  • Not long after, this entire neighborhood where I grew up was demolished.

  • Revisiting the area, there are no traces of my childhood to be found.

  • I think the migraine is easing up.

  • I think I still remember the phone number from that old house. I wonder what would happen if I called it.

Wo Shi Bai was born in Shanghai’s Songjiang district, and in a comic titled Migraine, he talks about his childhood there. The main character, drawn simply as a boy with hair, represents the author himself. But in Song, another comic, the story he tells is fictional, and for that fiction, he created a character with nothing but eyes and a mouth. That’s right: no eyebrows, nose, ears, or hair.

“I only kept the eyes and mouth, and added a human outline, to have a minimal vehicle of expression. That’s how the blank little guy came about,” he says.

Readers often think this blank character – xiao bai ren (小白人) – is Wo Shi Bai, because their names are so similar.

“Some of my moods and states come through in that character,” he concedes, “So there’s a part of ‘myself’ inside. Really, every writer’s characters probably have something of themselves inside.”


我是白出生在上海松江,在他的一个漫画《偏头痛》里,他讲述了他童年在松江的往事,里面的那个有头发的男孩角色就是作者自己。而在另一个漫画《Song》里,他又讲述了一个虚构的故事,并且为了这个虚构的故事,他创作了一个只有眼睛和嘴巴的角色(是的,连眉毛、鼻子、耳朵还有头发都没有),“只保留眼睛和嘴巴,加上人的轮廓这些用来‘演出’最低限度的‘工具’,小白人就这样诞生了。”

很多时候,读者也会把小白人和我是白本人联系起来,因为他们的名字太像了。“通过 ta,我的一些状态和情绪具象化了,所以有一部分的‘我’在ta里面。实际上每个作者创作的人物都有一部分自己存在吧。”

  • Swipe to read.

Wo Shi Bai’s comics always alternate between these two figures. Maybe the one with the hair represents reality, while the blank one represents fiction, and only by combining both their stories can you come close to getting a complete picture of Wo Shi Bai. You start to see how much he enjoys this “back-and-forth” creative style – darting back and forth between fiction and reality. It’s like the series of illustrations he once drew called Chuck and the Portal. The feeling of being here one moment and flying somewhere else the next is what he likes best about his creative work. “When I’m at home drawing by myself, I feel like I’m on some remote island,” he says. It’s a solitary, quiet feeling, and I get lost in my thoughts and my creative work. Especially when it’s raining – then I feel even more cut off. The rain adds another barrier between you and the outside world.”


我是白的漫画总是在这样的 2 个主角里摇摆,有头发的那个或许代表的是现实,而那个小白人代表了虚构。而将这两个不同角色的漫画故事混合在一起看,似乎才能更为接近一个完整的“我是白”,你会发现其实他很享受这样的一种“穿行”式的创作方式,在现实和虚构里穿行。就像他曾经画过一套名叫《查克与传送门》插画作品一样,这种忽而在这里,忽而又飞到了那里的感觉,恰恰是他在创作时最享受的时刻。“一个人在家里画画的时候,我感到仿佛置身孤岛。这样孤独而平静的感受让我完全沉浸在思考和创作中。特别是下雨的时候,更加会觉得和外面隔绝。下雨把你和外面的世界又隔了一道屏障。”

  • Closet by Wo Shi Bai. Swipe to read.

  • When my grandmother was in my great grandmother’s body

  • My mother was already in my grandmother’s body.

  • And at the same time, I was already in my mother’s body.

  • But there’s no one inside my body because I’m a boy.

  • I didn’t quite understand how people were born into this world, so that was my theory.

  • The grown-ups told me that babies are born after you get married, but this didn’t feel like a satisfying answer.

  • Isn’t getting married just a bunch of people getting together to eat a meal?

  • How does eating food produce babies?

  • So the only explanation is that everyone already exists inside other people. I was quite happy with myself after coming up with this answer.

  • I thought about all of this inside a closet at my kindergarten.

  • Ten minutes ago, I talked in class, and my teacher put me in here as a timeout.

  • I didn’t feel like I was being punished. It felt fun.

  • Seeing all my peers outside, all well-behaved, and me not having to be part of it gave me inexplicable joy.

  • On my way home, I shared the baby theory with my mom. After hearing it, she laughed, and that’s when I knew something was off about my answer.

  • A few years later, an older kid in the neighborhood told me the truth of it all.

  • And much to my surprise, it turns out the answer was hidden in the curse words that we commonly used.

  • Since then, nothing has shocked me more.

In fall 2017, Wo Shi Bai held his first solo exhibition in Shanghai where he met his online fans for the first time. “Maybe because everyone there was a fan of my comics, I felt they all had a few similar traits: they were delicate, shy, and quiet,” he says. Yet they may have even more in common with the blank character in his art. Maybe they too go to work by themselves, come home by themselves, eat takeout by themselves, read by themselves. Maybe they have also a pet at home and a fantasy world inside their heads. And maybe in Wo Shi Bai’s comics they find a resonance with their lives that they’ve long been missing.


在 2017 年秋天,我是白在上海举行了他的一次个人展览,在这个展览上,也是他第一次和互联网上的粉丝见面。“可能是因为喜欢我的这些漫画的缘故,所以感觉大家身上都有一种相似的特征:细腻,害羞,还有安静”。不过,他们和漫画故事里的那个“小白人”,也许真的有不少的相似性,也许他们也是一个人上班,一个人下班,一个人住,一个人吃便当,一个人看书,然后家里也有个小宠物,在脑海里有一个幻想的世界,而我是白的这些漫画,让他们找到了那种久违的共鸣。

  • 158 Days by Wo Shi Bai. Swipe to read.

  • After every shower, I have to wipe the floor dry.

  • My bathroom has a slanted floor, so a lot of the water ends up not going down the drain.

  • The carpenter didn’t realize this until after he finished laying all the floor tiles.

  • He said: (Sorry about that).

  • It takes me five minutes to dry the floor every single day.

  • Over the course of a year, that adds up to 76 hours.

  • Over 50 years, that adds up to 158 days.

  • 158 days…

  • In Interstellar, there was a planet where the entire surface was covered in shallow water.

  • If I had to wipe water off the floor without any sleep or rest for 158 days straight, I’d imagine the scene would look something like that.

  • (Drip drip)

  • This is some kind of punishment.

  • It’s a sentence passed down to me by that carpenter.

  • To be precise, it’s the result of him mentally checking out for a moment.

  • Some stray thought that distracted him.

  • (A-choo!)

Weibo: ~/WoShiBai
Douban: ~/WoShiBai
WeChat: WoShiBai

 

Contributor: Dawen Ding


微博: ~/WoShiBai
豆瓣: ~/WoShiBai
微信: WoShiBai

 

供稿人: Dawen Ding

Capturing Intimacy with No. 223

Beijing-based photographer No. 223 documents the people and relationships in the world around him through a lens of intimacy. His work, self-described as “free, spontaneous, unconventional, and unreasonable,” offers viewers a deeply personal look into his views on sexuality, the human body, and life in general.

While best known for his photography, No. 223 is also an avid author and independent publisher. Despite his versatility in mediums, his overall creative aspirations are one in the same. He tells us, “Sex is an essential part of life, so I try to depict as such in my works. It’s just like eating, sleeping, going out, and socializing. I just choose to record it objectively, not for the purpose of voyeurism or exposing secrets. I like the human body, so naturally, that means a lot of my works will be related to the human form.”


编号223的相片中呈递的人和事,仿佛随处充满着亲密的体温。这正如他对自己作品的定义:自由、即兴、放荡、悬疑——契合了私摄影的概念,也契合了人们对私生活的好奇心。

编号223是来自北京的摄影艺术家、作家和独立出版人。他说:“于我的作品中,性是一个人成长必然的存在,等同于吃饭睡觉逛街聚会,我只是用一个客观的心态把它们记录下来,不为了窥探也不为了发掘什么私密。我喜欢身体,这决定了我会拍很多跟身体有关的作品。”

For personal projects, No. 223 often enlists friends as models. He’s found this approach to produce a much more organic and collaborative dynamic that allows everyone to be themselves. “The subjects in my photographs are often chosen subconsciously,” he shares of his intuitive approach. “For example, the first time that I meet somebody, I might have a strong desire to take their photo. On the other hand, when it comes to friends who I’ve known for a long time, I may not want to just casually take their photo. The action of photography comes instinctively. Some of my subjects will think that I’ve captured a sexier or more carefree version of their normal selves, while others will think that I made them look like a mess without proper styling, but to me, I feel like I’m just showing them in a natural state.”


这些身体呈现着自然、放松或紧张的模样,它们都来自编号223身边的朋友,因此在拍摄的时候,双方通常都不会有心坎和隔阂。“我拍摄对象的选择,往往由我潜意识的审美来决定,比如我看到某个人的第一眼,我可能就很想给Ta拍照;有的可能认识很久的朋友,我也没有轻易拿起相机拍摄Ta,这是我个人潜在的行为激发……有的人觉得我挖掘了Ta更性感、更放纵的状态,有的人觉得我拍摄的Ta太垮了,没有造型,其实我觉得是更自然的状态。”这一切,是由背后那个摄影师个人潜在的行为激发,一切都源于主观的“私”。

Being that No. 223’s photography is so closely interlinked with his own life and interpersonal relationships, there are certain topics that he’s continuously inspired by and hopes to further explore in his work going forward. “What moves me the most is observing people as they slowly change over time,” No. 223 tells us. “Their skin, their gaze, their hair, the wrinkles around their eyes, their body, and so on. I wish I had the chance to capture these changes that I notice every time I see them.”


既然是参杂着私人的感受,那么必然也会有想要一拍再拍的时刻,编号233说,“最让我心动的是一个人在岁月在时间的慢慢前进中所产生的细微的变化,Ta的发肤、眼神、头发、眼角、体型等等发生的变化,我想要每一次见面的时候都可以拍摄Ta的这些成长的变化。”

For No. 223, his creative objectives aren’t just about the superficial documentation of personal moments. The intimate nature of his work reflects his ambitions of understanding the notion of self. His photography is both passive observation and a form of self-expression. “Many of my works are about my personal journey and the things I’ve encountered in my daily life. My works that concern sexuality and the human form fall into the latter category, but it’s not that I’m focusing on sex or the human body, but rather, I see my work as being related to life and growth. Sex just happens to be a part of that.”

Ultimately, No. 223’s creativity is driven by a personal desire to better understand his own role in this world as well as the ever-changing relationship between humans and society.


私摄影远不止亲密的镜头表达。所谓的,更是一种“我”对外界的看法和表达。其实我个人作品更多的关注在自身的成长和日常所见,而身体内容的摄影是归属在这些日常里面的,并非主要拍性和身体。我的作品里面有日常有成长,有人有物,自然也会有性……编号223的作品,也正是通过自己的镜头,在试图一次次阐述自我、他人和社会之间的关系。

Website:  linzhipeng223.com
Instagram@finger223


Contributor: Chen Yuan

Image Courtesy of No.223


网站linzhipeng223.com
Instagram@finger223


供稿人: Chen Yuan

图片由编号223提供

10 Inspiring Chinese Photographers

Information overload in today’s media landscape is a real problem. The signal-to-noise ratio on all our social media feeds could be optimized. To help combat your “following” fatigue and filter through the noise, we’re releasing Neocha Roundups, a series of short-form articles with recommendations of Asia-based creatives whom we follow closely and think you should be keeping an eye on.

In the first installment of Neocha Roundups, we’ll be taking a look at the Instagram photography scene in our home turf of China. Instagram-savvy users might already be aware of several big-name Chinese photographers, such as Jennifer Bin, 5.12, hx1125, amongst others, who have all played a part in popularizing the app in the Middle Kingdom and amassed sizable followings in the process, but many more talented photographers still remain very much off the radar. To help introduce some of these hidden gems into your Instagram feeds, we’ve compiled a list of accounts that have inspired us lately.


“信息超载”是现代人在频繁接触媒体的生活中,常会面临到的困扰问题。社交媒体每天传递给我们大量信息,其中很多是不被需要的“噪音”。而这些“噪音”其实是可以被过滤、及优化的。为了帮助减少你成天接收这些“噪音”随之而来的疲劳,我们开启了新的企划单元――“Neocha 精选集”。这是一系列的短篇文章,向你推荐几位值得关注的亚洲创意人士 。

在 “Neocha 精选集”的第一篇,我们将目光放在 Instagram 上来自中国艺术家的摄影作品。常用 Instagram 的用户,可能已经注意到了好几位知名的中国摄影师,比如 Jennifer Bin5.12hx1125 等等。他们让 Instagram 普及到了更多中国用户,并在这个过程中获得了大量的粉丝关注。但还有更多有才华的摄影师,远在人们的视线之外。为了让你在 Instagram 上搜索到一些隐匿又有才的中国摄影师,我们列出了一批最近给我们以无数灵感启发 Instagram 摄影师账号。


 

@grinch0748

Capturing moments of hilarity and the subtle interplays between environment and people, photographer Liu Tao‘s (@grinch0748) account offers a unique and whimsical look at life in Hefei. While his humor-filled work has garnered him a devoted fanbase on Chinese social media, his Instagram is an underappreciated treasure trove of street photography.


摄影师刘涛@grinch0748)的镜头往往会捕捉到欢闹的时刻,以及环境与人之间微妙的互动感,为观看合肥的日常生活提供了一个独特而又异想天开的角度。虽然他充满幽默的摄影作品,已经为他赢得了许多中国社交平台的忠实粉丝,但他的 Instagram 却是街头摄影的一个未被开发的宝库。


 

@luoyangphoto

Already a well-established name in the Chinese photography scene, Luo Yang‘s (@luoyangphoto) Instagram account offers a refreshing perspective of femininity in an evolving China.


摄影师罗洋@luoyangphoto)的 Instagram 账号已经在中国摄影界名声显赫,它为发展中的中国提供了一个全新的女性视角。


 

@harry.lil

Using a subdued palette of colors, Shanghai-based photographer @harry.lil channels a sense of calm and tranquility throughout his work. Primarily focused on portrait photography, his Instagram portrays young Chinese females with equal parts attitude and equal parts grace.


上海摄影师 @harry.lil  的摄影作品色调柔和,呈现出平静和安宁的感觉。他的摄影以肖像作品为主,在他镜头下的中国年轻女性,兼备个性态度与优雅魅力。


 

@lesliezhang1992

Often blurring the line between conceptual photography and fashion photography, Leslie Zhang‘s (@lesliezhang1992) Instagram is home to a quirky collection of colorful images that, at times, feel like scenes straight out of a Wes Anderson film.


摄影师张家诚@lesliezhang1992)的作品模糊了概念摄影和时尚摄影之间的界线,他的 Instagram 上展示了一系列独特的影像作品,色彩丰富又充满趣味。


 

@youknowcyc_

While his account has accumulated an impressive following, @youknowcyc_ only skyrocketed in popularity over the past year. Comprised of neon-lit cityscapes and vertigo-inducing vantages, the Shanghai-based photographer’s account shows off various Asian metropolises in their full grandeur.


@youknowcyc_ 是这几位摄影师中粉丝数量最多的其中一位,但其中有一大批粉丝都是在过去一年间暴涨的。他的作品多为亚洲大都市中霓虹灯闪烁或是令人眩晕的城市景象。如果你喜欢这样的摄影风格,这位来自上海的摄影师绝对不容错过。


 

@lvlvlcy

Cathy Liu’s (@lvlvlcy) Instagram account is a visual travel diary that takes viewers from the forests of Hokkaido to the alleyways of Morroco. Her account is a delightful recap of the beautiful architecture and stunning sights she’s stumbled across in her adventures across the world.


Cathy Liu (@lvlvlcy)的 Instagram 可说是一个视觉旅行日记,可以让关注者从北海道的森林一路“旅行”到摩洛哥的街头小巷。她的照片常常纪录下偶然发现的美丽建筑和绝妙景色,活泼轻巧地勾勒出她在环游世界的冒险之旅。


 

@xiaopeng_yuan

Photographer and co-founder of independent publishing studio Same Paper Xiaopeng Yuan (@xiaopeng_yuan) uses his Instagram to inject a healthy dose of surrealism into the mundanities of life in China.


摄影师兼独立出版工作室 Same Paper 的共同创办人袁小鹏(@xiaopeng_yuan),将他的 Instagram 作为中介,在中国平凡的世俗风景中注入了一剂超现实主义的新能量。


 

@aero.h

Coming from a videography background, He Xilin (@aero.h) offers his perspective of China via atmospheric, cinematic snaps that transports viewers into scenes reminiscent of director Wong Kar-wai’s work.


来自拍摄动态影像的背景,何西林 (@aero.h) 透过他独具氛围感、像电影一般的影像作品,透露了他对中国的看法。将观者直接带入画面中,让人联想到王家卫导演的作品。


@huiuh_

Radiating a sense of tenderness and delicacy, Hangzhou-based photographer Li Hui’s (@huiuh_) Instagram features a collection of beautiful analog snapshots that explore intimacy, relationships, and vulnerability.


来自杭州的摄影师李晖@huiuh_)在 Instagram 收录了一系列作品,探索人与人之间亲密关系和脆弱性,展现了毫不掩饰的温柔美感 。


 

@by.harper

Based in Chongqing, photographer @by.harper takes to the skies to capture jaw-dropping aerial perspectives of the city. From crisscrossing highways to geometric building formations, his account shows off the many shapes and forms of China’s “mountain city.”


重庆摄影师 @by.harper 喜欢从高处捕捉城市中令人瞠目结舌的上空视角。从纵横交错的高速公路,到几何建筑形态,他的作品展示了中国“山城”的多种样貌。

In Search of Home

Can you pinpoint the exact moment you left “home”? For some people, perhaps it was when they moved out of their parent’s houses and into their college dorms. For others, maybe the feeling didn’t hit until after graduation as they left behind their friends and took a leap of faith with a job in a new city. Either way, in the search for independence and opportunity, everyone eventually leaves behind a place they regard as home. And in this quest, they’re faced with the task of creating a brand new “home” for themselves.

More often than not, people are drawn to metropolises where opportunities are abundant. This migration in turns causes a constant demand for housing in major cities, where for most, renting is the norm due to the prohibitively expensive costs of buying property. But in China, as rent costs continue rising, it’s not uncommon for tenants to repeatedly move year after year. Curious about the effects of this constant displacement, we take a look at the lives of three Chinese youths living in Shanghai to explore how it affects their lifestyles, get their thoughts on living in a place that both belongs and doesn’t belong to them, and discuss what the idea of “home” truly means.


我们是从什么时候离开家的呢?大概是第一次兴奋地搬至学校宿舍,或者拿到大学通知书拖着不多的行李奔赴别的城市甚至国家吧。而对更多人来说,一切可能发生在毕业后,在陌生的城市拿到第一份工资,满怀信心决定打拼下去的那一刻。无论如何,在寻求独立和机遇的过程中,每个人最终都留在了他们认为是“家”的地方。

大城市机会充足,但人们租房的需求也会相应增加。随着租金成本的上升,租客年复一年地多次搬家的情况并不少见。如果下一年你仍旧不得不拖着行李箱,听着另一个中介喋喋不休的介绍,你会想要一个什么样的租住空间呢?

出于对这种不断辗转的生活的好奇,我们去到几个居住在外的不同的年轻人家里探险,有的人喜欢习惯带来的安全感,有的人看看空荡的四周希望自己可以说走就走,但出于上海的房价或者一些别的原因,他们都居住在这个不属于他们却又完全属于他们的空间里。我们和他们聊了聊租房对生活方式产生的影响,并随之探讨了下“家”的真正含义是什么。


Ian / Shanghai, China

“I don’t eat lao gan ma chili sauce because it’s too spicy.”

 

Born in 1994, Ian recently moved back to China after his studies abroad in Japan. Despite being Shanghainese and having parents that live in the city, he’s rented for most of his life since their house is inconveniently located on the outskirts of the city. Having rented for so long, he’s still unsure what “home” is supposed to feel like, but he’s content with what he has now. Today, like many, he shares an apartment with a few close friends as roommates.

Ian is someone who’s difficult to define, but his house is somewhat telling of his personality. Despite the spacial limitations, a large potted plant occupies the corner of his bedroom. From a never-been-used stretching machine to strangely shaped light bulbs, items without any immediately identifiable practicality populate his room. “I like things that are too pretty to be used, like a piece of kitchenware that’s so beautiful you just can’t bear using it. This is far more interesting to me than something that’s designed to be beautiful but without any functionality in mind.”

While Ian might seem borderline obsessive with decorating the apartment, he tells us he isn’t a materialistic person. Everything in his place appears to be flawlessly organized, yet a jar of opened lao gan ma chili sauce left out on the dining room table seems to break this illusion of perfection (even though it turned out to be his roommates). While he’s adamant about living independently, he isn’t overly concerned about personal space. “I don’t really care,” he tells us, shrugging. “It’s something I stopped caring about when I’m fine with roommates. It doesn’t matter because I wouldn’t be living in an apartment with people I don’t like in the first place.”


“我不吃老干妈的原因是它太辣。”

 

94年的 Ian 今年刚刚从日本留学回来,他算是一个纯正上海本地人了,但因为家离市区较远所以他很早就开始了租房生涯,从小经历寄宿生活的Ian对家的概念没有那么在意。跟很多上海租房青年一样,他跟自己的好朋友合租在这里。

房间不大,但一走进他的卧室立刻看到一棵巨大的植物,然后你会发现一些功能模糊的东西占据着这个空间:一个也许从来没被使用过的拉伸器,或者各种不同形状的灯。Ian 说:好看到没有用处的东西非常好玩,比如一个锅子,因为太好看了导致你不想使用它,这比一开始就创造一个没有用的东西要更好玩。

Ian 也是个没法被轻松定义的人,他超迷恋物质,喜欢用他们装饰自己的空间,但如果真的不买也不会觉得怎么样;他的生活似乎很虚拟,可是餐桌上也放着瓶盖打开的老干妈(最后证明是室友的物品);需要自己住,但他对私人空间也有不同的看法,“(我)不太在乎这件事,觉得在选室友之前就决定了这件事。因为你不可能跟一个你不能认可的人住在一起。


Kim / Daegu, South Korea

“My friends climb in through the window.”

 

Kim moved from Korea to Shanghai four years ago for college, and after graduating with a major in business management, he began working as a part-time model.

When we met up with him at his apartment, he was groggy-eyed, having obviously just woken up but still greeted us enthusiastically alongside Boto, his dog. After a quick tour of his quaint space, he plops down crosslegged in the middle of the living room, telling us, “I feel like I don’t really need furniture or a bed. Since I was a kid, I’ve gotten used to sleeping on the floor.”

Eyeing his sofa, he quickly changes his mind, “Actually, I’ve grown pretty fond of sleeping on the couch lately.”

As we began to discuss what some of his favorite activities at home are, he reveals himself to be a major movie buff and tells us he’s infatuated with colors and how they can be used (showing us his sketchbook in the process). He says, at times, he’ll completely lose track of a movie’s plot but still find himself engrossed by the cinematography.

He explains that having the peace and quiet to get lost in activities he enjoys is what gives him the feeling of being home. But despite treasuring his time alone, Kim still often hosts small get-togethers at his place. “Even though I’m renting, I try to treat my apartment like my actual home and not just a place I sleep at. I like to smoke and drink here. I also like inviting friends over to smoke and drink together. I always end up making plenty of great memories no matter where I live, so whenever I move away out of an apartment, I feel quite sentimental about it.”


“朋友从窗子爬进来。”

 

Kim 是四年前来到上海念大学的金牛座韩国男生,学的是工商管理,但同时也是一个时装模特。他大概是我们拍到的最真实的租客了,睡眼惺忪地为我们开门,迎接我们的还有完全不怕生的小狗 Boto,在客厅里席地而坐,每个地方看起来都可以随时舒服躺下,我无所谓有没有床,在床上跟地上都可以睡,小时候习惯睡在地上,最近特别喜欢睡沙发上。

聊到喜欢的电影,Kim 表示自己对色彩非常敏感,有时甚至可以不那么注重剧情内容去喜欢一个电影作品,他非常热衷于王家卫的《重庆森林》,也喜欢看法国电影,但唯一不看的是恐怖片。看电影、听音乐、创作……Kim 说,他享受一个人安稳又平静的独处时间,这让他有种家的感觉。但他也喜欢在家里和朋友小聚,我会把租住的空间当成一个家而不止是一个房子,我喜欢在这里抽烟,喝酒,也喜欢请朋友到家里一起喝酒抽烟吃东西,在那个空间会有很多记忆,每次我搬离原本居住的地方,会非常不舍。


Dimola / Hangzhou, China

“Having alcohol at the house is mandatory.”

 

“To be honest, I don’t really care that I don’t own the house,” Dimola says, laughing. “Of course, if I did own it, it’d even better.”

Even though she’s moved six times since being in Shanghai, she doesn’t seem to mind. Her room is filled with an assortment of souvenirs from her travels. Although none of them have any practical use, she still feels like they’re an important part of her life. This strong sense of attachment has been a defining part of her personality since she was young. When she was a child, she read a book with a character named Dimola and loved it so much she decided to adopt it as her English nickname. It’s stuck with her ever since.

Dimola tells us that she prefers the inviting glow of incandescent lights over the sterile feel of white fluorescent lights – she feels that this warm light and her collection of toys and souvenirs go together perfectly, lending her space a welcoming and comforting feel. However, she often feels conflicted when she visits the clean and neatly organized apartments of friends.

With a tinge of jealousy, she would think to herself: How is possible for them to keep their place so tidy?

But often times, this envy is replaced with pity: It must feel quite lonely here.

In the past, Dimola has worked as a choreographer and event planner. She now works full-time as a new media editor but dreams of being a pastry chef. Her ever-changing career choices have taken her from Shanghai to Beijing (albeit only for three months) and back again.

Having lived alone for so long, she admits that the idea of a place being “home” is becoming less and less clear to her. “Sometimes I guess I don’t regard my rented apartment as home per say. I’d say my true ‘home’ is still where my parents live. But, whenever I’m having a bad day, or if the weather is terrible, or if I’m having relationship troubles, whenever I get back to my apartment, it feels like everything will be OK.”


“家里一定要有酒。”

 

其实我不太在意这是不是我的房子,当然是我的房子就更好啦。已经搬过六次家的 Dimola 非常洒脱的看待租房这件事,她的房间里充满大大小小的旅行纪念品,但即使洒脱如她,也会在每次搬家时尽量保留这些看似无用的物品,就像 Dimola 这个来源于她小时候看的一本书里人物的名字一样,用了很久她都没有改。

因为不喜欢白炽灯的冷光,Dimola 屋里只亮着那盏暖黄色的台灯,温暖地包裹着整个屋子的繁杂,这也导致她去到那些家里空无一物的朋友家时,都会一边羡慕一边感叹这个人未免也太冷酷了吧。

在上海的几年之间她也试过去北京发展,但只在那里待了三个月就回来了。长期一个人在外生活,似乎对家的概念越来越模糊,有时候也会想我可能没有把租的房子真正当成一个家,因为真正的家还是在父母那里。但很多时候,比如天气特别冷,或者工作非常不顺或者失恋,只要一回到这里就会觉得其实也没什么大不了的。

Contributor: Shou Xing
Photographer: Ye Zi


供稿人: Shou Xing
摄影师: Ye Zi