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New Cambodian Artists 向未来翩翩起舞

June 27, 2018 2018年6月27日

 

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On a stage reserved for the elegant ceremony of Cambodian classical dance, also known as Apsara, New Cambodian Artists (NCA) create a maelstrom of movement, reflecting the dreams of a country that’s quickly modernizing and shaking off the ghosts of the past.

Contemporary dance is rare in Cambodia, where artistic lineages were severed and nearly stamped out in the late 1970s in the Khmer Rouge’s bloody persecution of artists and intellectuals. The arts were mangled and left for dead.

The few dance masters who survived the purges have spent the last three decades trying to revive dance. And while arts funding remains scarce, one could cite NCA’s success as a return to creativity.


在专门为舞姿优雅的仙女舞(Apsara,一种柬埔寨传统舞蹈)表演的舞台上,新柬埔寨艺术舞团(New Cambodian Artists,简称为 NCA)这个舞蹈团体掀起了一场震撼的舞蹈革命,反映出柬埔寨这个国家快速的现代化进程、致力摆脱历史阴影的愿景。

现代舞在柬埔寨并不普遍。 19 世纪 70 年代末,红色高棉政权杀害了许多艺术家和知识分子,当地艺术的传承脉络被狠狠切断,几近是彻底摧毁,导致艺术发展遭受严重破坏,濒临灭亡。

在过去的三年里,少数幸存下来的舞蹈大师们一直试图恢复当地的舞蹈文化,但要筹集足够的艺术基金并不容易。然而,NCA 的出现标志着创意文化的回归。

Founded in 2012 by Dutch artist director Bob Ruijzendaal, NCA is now co-owned by its four female dancers and its director, Srey Neung. It is Cambodia’s first certified contemporary dance company—and such a certification exists only because they spent 2016 lobbying for it at the Ministry of Culture and Fine Art.

Their performances thrive on raw emotionality. Their limbs shake and swerve with the passion of a nation, and their hands unfold like lotus flowers blooming in the mire. It’s a completely new take on contemporary dance: unlike Western styles that grew out of ballet, NCA’s dance is rooted in Apsara.


New Cambodian Artists(NCA)舞团由荷兰艺术总监 Bob Ruijzendaal 创立于2012年,如今由四位女舞蹈家以及总监 Srey Neung 共同经营管理。他们不断向柬埔寨艺术和文化部游说,终于在 2016 年获得认证成为柬埔寨第一家现代舞公司。整个过程最困难的是,柬埔寨当时甚至不存在这种认证。

他们的表演焕发着饱满的原始能量,热烈舞动的四肢宣泄着他们对这个国家的情感,正如同出污泥而不染的莲花灿烂绽放。那是对当代舞蹈的全新演绎,因为与西方那种以芭蕾舞为基础发展的现代舞蹈不同,NCA 的根源深深植于传统的柬埔寨仙女舞。

“Everything is different because of their classical training,” says Ruijzendaal. “In traditional Cambodian dance, the back is hollow. They have grounded toes and their hands are overextended. They do everything they would kill you for in a classical dance class in Europe.”

Khun Sreynoch, one of the dancers, says she’s trained in Cambodian classical dance since childhood. “We still practice the classical movements one or two hours a week to make sure we maintain the correct postures,” she says. “We base all our new movements on the classical style so we don’t forget it.”

“The contemporary style felt new and very crazy at first,” she continued. “We all came from a classical background, so it was uncomfortable at first, but we slowly got used to it. But later on, we ate it all up and we couldn’t stop because it is new and cool.”


“由于她们接受过古典舞蹈的训练,所以一切会非常不同。”  Ruijzendaal 说,“传统柬埔寨舞蹈要求舞者的背要凹起,脚趾紧贴地面,双手尽可能往外伸。这与欧洲的古典舞蹈训练是截然相反的。”

其中一位舞者 Sreynoch 表示,她从小就接受柬埔寨古典舞蹈的训练。她说:“我们每周仍然要花一两个小时练习基本动作以确保姿势正确。毕竟我们所有动作都是以这种传统舞蹈为基础设计的,所以我们不能忘记。”

她补充道:“现代舞的风格一开始会感觉挺新鲜,也有点疯狂。我们跳的一直都是古典舞蹈,所以起初跳现代舞会有点不适应,但慢慢的我们开始习惯了。当我们熟悉之后,我们简直不能停下,因为对我们来说这是一种很酷的全新舞蹈体验。”

Cambodian dance legend Sophiline Cheam Shapiro is credited with giving the first contemporary dance performance in Cambodia in 1999, when she interpreted Shakespeare’s Othello using Apsara dancers. It was meant as a message to the old Khmer Rouge leaders, who were then still alive.

“I lost my dad and two brothers [in the Khmer Rouge years] . . . and my country was devastated,” she says. “Othello had to take responsibility for killing Desdemona . . . I wanted to use that story to say that the head of the house, or the leader of a country in this case, has to be held accountable for their actions and decisions.”

It’s a tragic history, and Sreynoch and NCA are mindful of it. Yet in a country where over half the population is under 30, the current mood is to push forward into new creations. Sreynoch is developing a solo in which she performs classical dance moves in red stilettos, an innovation unlikely to please dance traditionalists.

“The conservatives say we can’t touch traditional moves,” she says. “They will say I am destroying Cambodian culture, but I think I’m developing it and making it fresher and more special.”


相传,柬埔寨舞蹈界的传奇人物 Sophiline Cheam Shapiro 在1999年开创了柬埔寨的现代舞蹈表演。当时,她带领仙女舞者用舞蹈演绎了莎士比亚的四大悲剧之一《奥赛罗》(Othello)。这次的表演其实是要向当时尚在世的红色高棉掌权者传递一个信息。

“(在红色高棉时期)我失去了我的父亲和两个兄弟,我的国家也被彻底摧毁。” 她说,“奥赛罗要对他的妻子迪丝狄蒙娜(Desdemona)的死负责。我想通过这个故事来说明,这个国家的领导人,必须对他们的行动和决定负责任。”

Sreynoch 和 NCA 清楚记得这一段悲惨的历史,但是在一个30岁以下青年占去一半人口的国家,更重要的是创新与前进。目前,她正在创作一个独舞,穿着红色高跟鞋来表演传统舞步,但保守的传统舞者可能不太欢迎这种创新舞蹈。

她说:“保守的人会说我们不应该改变传统的舞步。他们会认为我是在破坏柬埔寨文化。但我认为自己是在发展它,让它变得更有新意、更特别。”

Hab Touch, director-general of intangible heritage at the Ministry of Culture and Fine Art, is tasked with protecting and promoting traditional Cambodian art. He says it’s tough to find common ground between conservative elements and those who want to innovate.

“We want to offer modern styles, so we are trying to work with our partners and ask, ‘what is Cambodian contemporary art?’” he says. “It’s a good process and we hope to increase the presence of contemporary art.”

At NCA’s studio in Siem Reap, rehearsals go on well into the evening. Sreynoch is working on her solo, striking poses in her stilettos. Suddenly she discards the shoes and whirls, barefoot, in a series of gymnastic pirouettes and backbends.

She says the performance is about the development of a person’s character. “I use the Apsara movements to show that I am a Cambodian lady,” she says. “I put on the red shoes to show that I can be strong, but then I start to think, Why do I even need the shoes? I am strong enough. So I throw them away.”


文化与艺术部部长 Hab Touch 的职责在于保护和促进柬埔寨传统艺术。他说,要在保守人士和那些想要创新的人之间寻求共同点,并非易事。

“我们想要呈现现代的舞蹈风格,所以正努力与合作伙伴一起探讨这个问题: 什么是柬埔寨当代艺术?这是一个很好的过程,我们当然希望能进一步推广(这里的)当代艺术场景。”

在 NCA 位于暹粒的工作室里,彩排持续到了晚上。Sreynoch 还在排练着她的独舞表演,踩着高跟鞋翩翩起舞。突然,她脱掉了鞋子,赤着脚,就像一名专业的体操运动员旋转趾尖、后仰弯腰。

他们说,这个舞蹈讲述的是一个人性格发展的过程。她说: “我用仙女舞的舞步来说明我来自柬埔寨。我穿上红色的高跟鞋,来展示内心的坚强。但后来我想,既然我已经足够坚强,为什么还需要这双鞋来证明?所以最后我把它们脱掉了。”

Facebook: ~/NewCambodianArtists

 

Contributor: Nathan Thompson
Photographer & Videographer: Enric Catala Contreras


脸书: ~/NewCambodianArtists

 

供稿人: Nathan Thompson
图片与视频摄影师: Enric Catala Contreras

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Animal Regulation 暂时脱离日常的琐碎

June 26, 2018 2018年6月26日

Put on the soundtrack to Annihilation, whose eerie tracks can jolt you out of your habitual frame of mind. Immersed in that otherworldly soundscape, you can understand the images Liu Di presents.

A graduate of Beijing’s prestigious Central Academy of Art, Chinese visual artist Liu Di creates works that reveal a meditation on the tediousness of life, from the second you lay eyes on them they capture your attention. From a massive animal sitting amidst a sprawl of slum housing to a giant man with a hyperrealistic face that nevertheless seems to be more plastic than flesh, jarring contrasts are often used to great effect in establishing the sense of surrealism in his work.


这段文字起始前我打开了《Annihilation》的电影原声带,听着这样超脱现实的音乐隔离了我的仪式感,更可以去思考柳迪作品里所传达的东西。

毕业于中央美术学院的视觉艺术家柳迪,虽然作品中透露出对于冗长生命的深刻思考,仍然能在第一秒钟就刺激到你的视觉。不论是在随处可见的破败房屋群落里坐着的巨大动物,还是具有塑胶质感却依然彷真到几近真实的老人面孔,都在演示这种矛盾带来的超现实感。

As a child, Liu dreamed of becoming a doctor one day, but when he would page through medical books, it was the illustrations that piqued his interest. He eventually realized that his true interests lay in art. In 2010, he won the coveted Lacoste Elysée Prize for photography, and today, he’s become an established name in the Chinese art scene.

Despite his success, Liu continually defies the label of “photographer” with works that are a departure from traditional documentary-style photography. More often than not, an elaborate post-production process is required to realize his vision.


小时候的柳迪曾经想成为一个医生,当他尝试打开阅读医科书籍,吸引到他目光的却是那些书里的插图,此后他渐渐明白了艺术是他的真正兴趣所在。至今他已是一位小有建树的艺术家,曾经在2010年荣获 Lacoste 爱丽舍摄影奖一等奖。虽然平常被称为一位摄影师,但比起传统意义上的纪录拍摄,柳迪更倾向于用后期制作的手法,来实现他脑海里的视觉想象。

In Animal Regulation, Liu reevaluates the relationship between civilization and nature by placing gargantuan animals in unexpected urban settings. “To tell the truth, I’m not looking to change much with my work,” he shrugs. “I believe art’s social meaning is limited because the message is indirect. But this is not to say that the meaning of art itself is limited. On the contrary, art’s meaning goes beyond its social meaning. Art can soothe and give a voice to human emotion. My work is just a proclamation – it’s trying to convey something akin to ‘How can we lead lives like these?’” Unlike the combative radicalism seen everywhere in contemporary art, Liu’s work feels much more reserved and rational.


在《动物法则》系列中,柳迪将庞大的动物放置在一些意想不到的城市场景里,灵感出发自他对于人类社会进步与自然之间关系的思考,而这样的思考更多是倾向于自我表达,不是要刻意去打破些什么,“我其实不想通过作品改变什么,我认为艺术的社会意义是很有限的,因为它并不直接。但这不是说艺术本身的意义有限,相反的,艺术的意义是超越社会意义的,对人来说,艺术是具有抒发和治愈人心效果的。我想透过作品表达的像是一种对于生命的感叹,类似于 “我们怎么是这样的一种存在?” 之类的疑问。” 这种由理性思考散发出的含蓄气质,使得他的作品并不具备当下当代艺术普遍存在那种激进的攻击性。

Liu’s latest project is planned as a three-part video series, with each video being a visual interpretation of a particular idea. Currently, two videos are complete: The Weight of Oneself and A Stubbornly Persistent Illusion. He calls this series “three sentences with the same grammatical structure.”

The Weight of Oneself is inspired by a philosophical insight from Witold Gombrowicz: the weight of each of our selves, Gombrowicz mused, depends on the size of the population on the planet. If humanity’s weight is constant, then each individual’s weight is equal to one divided by the number of people living at that time. A Stubbornly Persistent Illusion, on the other hand, is his personal interpretation of Albert Einstein’s quote: “The distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.”


他的最新作品计画由三段视觉影像组成,其中两个是《自我的重量》与《顽固而持久的幻觉》。他称这个系列为 “同一个语法结构的三次造句”。

《自我的重量》的灵感来源于贡布罗维奇(Witold Gombrowicz)的一个哲学思考:“我们每个人自我的重量取决于地球上人口的数量——人类的自我重量的总和是一个不变的恒量,而每个人自我的重量约等于那个时代人口数量分之一。” 而《顽固而持久的幻觉》的题目则来源于爱因斯坦(Albert Einstein)写下的一句话:“过去、现在和未来之间的分别不过是顽固而持久的幻觉。”

 

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Ultimately, Liu Di hopes for his work to serve as an oasis from the monotony of our daily lives. One noteworthy detail in The Weight of Oneself is the number of frames dedicated to the dense jungle setting. As the camera pans upward, a gigantic figure comes into view, towering above the canopy; the camera pans back down, and then repeats its climb, again showing the giant. Yet after a few cycles—not visible in the shortened preview above—as the viewer expects to see the giant, he is nowhere to be found, gone between camera movements. Liu Di seems to be playing with our expectations and habits in everyday life. 


柳迪希望他的作品能让人暂时脱离日常的琐碎。在《自我的重量》里,你会发现一个有意思的细节(需至完整版观看,以上仅为预告):影像中大部分呈现的是一片树林,镜头缓慢上移,你会看见身处于树林深处的巨人,几次往复的循环,当你开始预设巨人的出现时,他突然消失在某一次镜头移动中。这看起来就像,柳迪跟我们的经验式日常生活开了一个小小的玩笑。

Weibo:~/柳迪
Instagram: @liudi_a

 

Contributor: Shou Xing


微博~/柳迪
Instagram: @liudi_a

 

供稿人: Shou Xing

Mist Encounter 供雾所

June 25, 2018 2018年6月25日

 

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In the outdoor plaza in front of Taipei Fine Arts Museum, a structure of scaffolding and mesh beckons passersby within the folds of its flowing fabric and swirling mist. Mist Encounter is an installation project designed by Serendipity Studio and Kuan-Wei Chen Architects, created with the goal of showing people how invisible air currents constantly interact with our bodies and movements.

Using a water mist system, the installation gives unseen airflow visible shape. As the mist drifts through and around the draped textiles, unrestricted by the boundaries of the square aluminum frame, it’s difficult to discern where the installation ends and begins. The free-flowing mist continuously takes on new forms – transforming based on the sun’s position and the wind’s intensity – to create different experiences for visitors throughout the day.

Mist Encounter is one of the many inspiring participants that blur the line between art and design in the 2018 Golden Pin Design Award. This year’s call for entries will end on June 28 at 5 pm (GMT+8). Visit the Golden Pin Design Award website for more details.


在台北市立美术馆门前的广场上,一个由鹰架和白色织网搭建的临时建筑装置吸引着路人踏入其飘逸的织网与薄雾旋流中。《供雾所》(Mist Encounter)是由偶然设计(Serendipity Studio)与陈冠玮建筑师事务所共同打造的一个装置项目,希望令观众意识到平时隐形的空气是如何与我们的身体和动作互动的。

通过使用水雾系统,将人们周围原本看不见的空气流动变得可见。薄雾在悬垂的织网周围浮动,不受方形铝框架边界的限制,令人难于辨别起点与终点。设计师将台北的天气情况纳入考虑,让自由流动的薄雾与太阳的位置和风的强度相互作用,让观众在一天中不同的时间能有不同的体验。

《供雾所》是 2018金点设计奖参赛作品之一,和许多精彩的参赛作品一样,它模糊了艺术与设计的界线。今年大奖报名时间将于 6 月 28 日(GMT+8)下午 5 点截止。浏览金点设计奖官网,了解更多详情。

Websites:
serendipitystudio.design
kwchenatelier.com

Facebook: ~/MistEncounter

 

Contributor: David Yen
Images Courtesy of Serendipity Studio & Ethan Lee


网站:
serendipitystudio.design
kwchenatelier.com

脸书: ~/MistEncounter

 

供稿人: David Yen
图片由偶然设计
 Ethan Lee 提供

Under 1.0 活在C里的八百种动物

June 21, 2018 2018年6月21日

One of the most important purposes of design is to solve problems, to make people’s lives – and our world as a whole – a better, more beautiful place. This belief is at the core of what inspired Taiwanese designer, illustrator, and animal lover Wan Xiangxin to create Under 1.0.

Cleverly designed as a series of eye exam charts, Under 1.0 is comprised of a dozen infographic posters that call attention to the global issue of species endangerment. Rather than the solid black Cs of standard Landolt ring charts, Wan has meticulously hand drawn each ring to represent specific animals. Much like traditional eye exam charts, the rings shrink as they go down the poster – the diminishing size of each C-shaped animal indicates the severity of each species’ dwindling population.


设计的最重要目的之一是解决问题,让人们的生活,或者说整个世界,变得更好、更美。正是这一理念激发了台湾设计师、插画家和动物爱好者万向欣创作了一系列的资讯图表海报《Under 1.0

万向欣将《Under 1.0》巧妙设计成一系列的视力表,呼吁人们关注物种濒危的全球性问题。她将朗多环形视力表上的黑色实体“C”字精心手绘成而不同的动物。和像传统的视力表一样,越往下,“C”字越小,大小的递减对应着所画的动物物种数量不断减少的严重程度。

With each of the 12 posters representing a different country, Under 1.0 spotlights the endangered species endemic to each region. From afar, every poster looks similar, but a closer look will reveal that each poster actually features a completely unique art style; from American comic art to Australian aboriginal painting, Wan ingeniously pays homage to traditional art forms each country is known for. So far, over 800 animals have been drawn for the project and she’s teased at plans of building on the series in the future.


《Under 1.0》的 12 幅作品各代表不同国家,展示了每个地区的濒危物种问题。从远处看,每一张海报大同小异,但仔细观察就会发现,每张海报里居然拥着各不相同的艺术风格。从美国漫画艺术到澳大利亚原住民绘画,她巧妙致敬着每个国家的传统艺术形式。迄今为止,万向欣在这个项目里已经画了超过 800 种动物,并有计划在未来继续扩大这个项目。

“I believe designers have a social responsibility,” Wan tells us. “We’re all a part of society, and our job as designers is to communicate ideas in an accessible way to the masses through good design . . . Every field of design can improve the world in their own ways. Minute changes can inspire solutions to big problems. As long as there are still designers, and as long as designers work together, I truly believe the world will become a better place.”


“我认为设计师需要有社会责任感,因为设计师也是社会的一份子,而设计师的工作就是要把需要传达的事情、透过设计、透过视觉呈现来传达讯息给社会大众,让大众能透过最直接的视觉来了解我们所要传递的讯息及内容……各种领域的设计都是为了能让世界更美好,所以从最小的细节去发现,一直到最大的问题去改善,只要这世界上还有各个领域的设计师存在,并一起努力不放弃,我相信世界会变得更美好。”

Under 1.0 is one of many inspiring design concepts entered in this year’s Golden Pin Concept Design Award. Shortlisted candidates for concept designs will be announced in July and the winners will be announced on September. For completed designs, registration for the Golden Pin Design Award will run until June 28 at 5 pm (GMT+8). Visit the Golden Pin Design Award website for more details.


《Under 1.0》是今年金点设计奖(Golden Pin Design Award) 的精彩入围作品之一。本次大奖的概念设计入围名单将于 7 月公布,最终获奖者将于 9 月公布。想要提交设计项目,记得在 6 月 28 日下午 5 时(GMT + 8)前完成注册。欲了解更多详情,请登陆浏览金点设计奖官网

Facebook: ~/Under1.0C

 

Contributor: David Yen


脸书: ~/Under1.0C

 

供稿人: David Yen

AMPM & DAMAGE 设计本该百无禁忌

June 18, 2018 2018年6月18日

Located a stone’s throw away from 1914 Huashan Creative Park, the newly reopened AMPM is shaping up to be one of the most peculiar retail space in Taipei. The new location houses a cafe, with a comprehensive selection of coffee and cocktails; a clothing boutique, which doubles as the flagship store of AMPM’s in-house streetwear brand, DAMAGE; and perhaps most unexpected of all, a huge indoor skate ramp for locals to drop in and shred the gnar.


新开张的 AMPM 距离华山 1914 文化创意产业园区仅有一步之遥,现在正要成为台北最独具品味的商店之一。不只是商店,这个空间内设有咖啡厅,供应着品类丰富的咖啡和鸡尾酒;还有一家服装精品店,同时也是 AMPM 旗下服饰品牌 DAMAGE 的旗舰店。也许最让人意想不到的是,这里面还建了一个巨型室内滑板场,提供当地滑板爱好者一个相聚的所在。

AMPM and DAMAGE is the magnum opus of husband-and-wife duo Andy and Joe. The two ventures combine their personal passions and skill sets: street culture and design. Andy opened the first iteration AMPM back in 2005, a time when street culture hadn’t quite assimilated into Taiwanese mainstream culture. The original store, operating as an art gallery and graffiti supply shop, served Andy’s vision of making street art more accessible for Taiwanese locals. At the time, AMPM operated modestly from the second floor of Petshopsgirl, a successful clothing boutique and independent label founded by his wife Joe. While Petshopsgirl is no longer around, the experimental aesthetics the label was known for would serve as the springboard for DAMAGE.


AMPM 和 DAMAGE 是夫妻搭档 Andy 和 Joe 的心血作品。这两个品牌凝聚了他们对街头文化和设计的热情与才华。2005年,Andy 刚刚创立 AMPM,在当时街头文化还没有完全融入台湾的主流文化。最初的商店只是一间艺术画廊和涂鸦用品店,Andy 的初衷是希望能让大众更接触到街头艺术。而第一间 AMPM 就座落在服装店 Petshopsgirl 的二楼,这个成功的独立服装品牌正是由他的妻子 Joe 所创办的。当 Petshopsgirl 计划终止时,品牌标志性的实验美学风格则继续延续到 DAMAGE 上。

It’d be a decade later, in 2015, before the pair teamed up to release the debut collection for their collaborative streetwear brand DAMAGE. “It was originally going to be a one-time collaboration between me and Joe,” Andy recalls. “We weren’t even sure if it would take off, but we just wanted to have fun with it. To our surprise, it became quite successful.”


十年后, 2015年两人联手推出服饰品牌DAMAGE。“本来这只是我和Joe之间一个一次性的合作。”Andy回忆道,“我们不确定会不会成功,只是想好好享受这个过程。最后它的成功真的出乎我们意料。”

Image Courtesy of Billa Baldwin
Image Courtesy of Billa Baldwin
Image Courtesy of Billa Baldwin

Chock-full of memes and pop culture references, each collection satirizes the world through wildly unorthodox designs (which, at times, can be borderline shocking) – from superimposing the Nike ACG logo onto a photo from the Abu Ghraib prison torture scandal to using Kim Jong-un’s portraits as a duffel bag and bucket hat designs, the duo’s no-holds-barred approach often saw them taking controversial topics and refashioning them into bold statement pieces.


品牌的每一个系列都充满各种网络流行文化和迷因的引用,以颠覆传统的设计讽刺世界时事——譬如将耐克 ACG 标志贴在爆发虐囚丑闻的阿布格莱布监狱(Abu Ghraib Prison)照片上,或是用金正恩的照片做成行李袋和帽子。两人秉持百无禁忌的风格,大胆的将一些争议话题融入设计之中。

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Despite their role in the advancement of street culture and street fashion in Taipei, Andy and Joe don’t regard themselves as trailblazers. Contrary to the loud, in-your-face aesthetics of DAMAGE, the two are incredibly humble individuals. They explain that their goals for DAMAGE and AMPM have remained unchanged over the years and revolve around two key concepts. The first is to foster a sense of community for street culture enthusiasts in Taipei, whether that be aspiring graffiti artists, young skaters, or streetwear lovers. The second is their long-standing motto of wanting to “bring something different into the world.” Even after all this time, their vision remains uncompromised. Despite facing hurdles like periods economic uncertainty or changing fashion trends, the duo’s passion and conviction have kept them going.

Beaming with pride, Andy says, “Sure, it hasn’t always been easy, but we’re still around and we have no plans of stopping any time soon.”


尽管他们持续努力推动台北街头文化和时尚的发展,但 Andy 和 Joe 并不认为自己称得上行业先驱。与 DAMAGE 品牌所呈现的那种大胆、挑衅性的风格相反,这两位创始人私底下却是出奇的谦逊。他们解释说这么多年来,他们为 DAMAGE 和 AMPM 订下的目标一直没变,始终围绕着两个核心概念:第一点是要在台北街头文化爱好者——无论是涂鸦艺术家、年轻的滑板者或是街头时尚爱好者——之间建立凝聚力;第二点是他们一直提出的口号:“给世界带来一点不一样。” 时至今日,Andy 和 Joe 在这两点上依然从未妥协。经济衰退或日新月异的时尚潮流变化往往会令很多创业者灰心,但对于 Andy 和 Joe 来说, 他们的热情和信念让他们坚持至今。

Andy 自豪地笑着说:“当然,不是一直都那么顺利的。但我们会继续下去,短时间内没有要结束的计划。”

Website: ampmxx.com
Facebook: ~/ampmstudio
Instagram: @ampm_space  |  @damagegroup

 

Photographer & Contributor: David Yen
Additional Images Courtesy of Billa Baldwin


网站: ampmxx.com
脸书: ~/ampmstudio
Instagram: @ampm_space  |  @damagegroup

 

供稿人与摄影师: David Yen
附加图片由 Billa Baldwin 提供

Notes of a Crocodile 鳄鱼手记

June 15, 2018 2018年6月15日

When I picked up Qiu Miaojin’s Notes of a Crocodile, recently translated by Bonnie Huie, I was utterly enthralled. I’d never read a book quite like it—a young girl’s coming-of-age tale told through cinematic vignettes, journal entries, and love letters. More than a traditional novel, it feels like a collage of Qiu’s personal musings and sources of inspiration. I refused to put it down for three days, and even missed my stop on the subway while eagerly taking in Qiu’s words.

After I finished, I had to know more. Who was Qiu Miaojin? What inspired her to write Notes? Why had I never heard of her?


当我拿起由邱妙津所写、Bonnie Huie所译的《鳄鱼手记》,我被完全迷住了。我从来没有读过这样的书,以电影短片、日记和情书的形式讲述一个年轻女孩成长的故事。它不仅仅是一部传统小说,它感觉更像是邱妙津个人思考和灵感的拼贴画。三天的时间里我看这本书看得停不下来,甚至因为看得太入迷错过了地铁站。

看完之后,我又有了更多疑问。邱妙津是谁?是什么激发了她写作《鳄鱼手记》?为什么我从来没有听说过她?

Qiu Miaojin in Paris / Photo Courtesy of Evans Chan

First published in Taiwan in 1994, and released in English in late 2017, Notes of a Crocodile is narrated by a young woman known as Lazi, a student at the prestigious National Taiwan University. The novel examines Lazi’s feelings about her attraction to women and charts her tumultuous relationship with Shui Ling, a fellow student. It also follows the lives of Lazi’s friends, who, like her, struggle to define their sexual identity in the face of homophobia, family dysfunction, and crushing academic pressure. All the while, the book offers sharp insights on living outside the bounds of social acceptability in the late 1980s.

In separate chapters, interspersed with the story of Lazi and her friends, the book also tells of an anthropomorphic crocodile forced to dress up as a human—a metaphor for closeted LGBTQ youth in a time when homosexuality was taboo.

The book is presented as a “survival manual” for the next generation, and at times the prose is brutal. Lazi repeatedly equates her lesbian identity with a prison sentence; in some passages, she calls herself a beast, a monster. Her relationship with Shui Ling ultimately crumbles, partly as a result of Lazi’s insecurities and depressive self-hatred. Afterward she writes, “The experience, every bit of it, brutally scathed me . . . You tore me open and exposed the man inside.”


《鳄鱼手记》于1994年在台湾首次出版,去年才发行英译本,以就读于著名台湾大学的年轻女主人公“拉子”的口吻讲述着书中的故事。这部小说探讨了拉子对于自己喜欢女性的问题,讲述了她与同学水伶间汹涌湍急的爱恋。同时也记录了拉子朋友的故事。和拉子一样,他们也是在面对同性恋恐惧、障碍家庭和学业等重重压力下,努力确定自己的性向。这本书是对20世纪80年代末那些生活在社会外缘的同性恋人群的一个残酷写照。

在一些穿插于拉子和她朋友的故事间的单独章节中,作者还讲述了一只被迫装扮得像人类一样的鳄鱼的故事,暗喻生活在视同性恋为忌讳的年代的那些LGBTQ青年。

这本书被称为年轻一代的“生存手册”,但有时,故事是残酷的。拉子多次将她的女同性恋身份与监狱刑罚等同起来;在某些段落中,她甚至称自己为野兽、怪物。她与水伶的关系最终走向崩溃,部分原因来自拉子的不安全感和自我厌恶。之后,她写道:“这些经历,每一点都残酷地撕痛着我……你将我撕开,露出了里面的男人。”

These passages never feel self-indulgent, because Lazi’s voice is exceptionally earnest and self-aware. Her wry social commentary draws the reader in. “College—now there’s a system,” she writes. “Though it’s not quite death, it’s a pretty close second. It’s the nexus of three major institutions (compulsory education, compulsory labor, and compulsory marriage).”

On gender she remarks: “All that is neither masculine nor feminine becomes sexless and is cast into the freezing-cold waters outside the lines of demarcation . . . Man’s greatest suffering is born of mistreatment by his fellow man.” Qiu’s critique of social norms make it clear why she remains a cult figure. The issues of gender and sexuality she addressed so boldly in 1994 are still relevant today.


这些段落读起来从不觉得作者是在自我放纵,因为拉子的声音非常认真,充满清醒的自我意识。她对社会的讽刺性评论也很有意思。她写道,“大学,这个制度是好的。比死亡制度差点,占第二名。它刚好在社会三大制度(强迫教育,强迫工作和强迫结婚)重叠交接的点上。”

在性别问题上,她写道:“去阴去阳视做无性,抛掷在“格线外”的沧浪……人的最大受苦来自人与人间的错待。”邱妙津对社会条条框框的批评也是为什么至今她仍然被人们所敬佩的原因。她在1994年对性与性别取向问题的大胆讨论放到今天仍然适用。

Translator Bonnie Huie in her New York home

Qiu was one of Taiwan’s first openly gay writers and a pioneer within its avant-garde and counterculture literary circles. In university she published short stories that drew on her encounters with art house cinema and Japanese modernism, and these influences appear in Notes of a Crocodile, which uses the language of film—with scene cuts, freeze frames, and camera zooms—to narrate the story. Just one year after the book’s publication, Qiu committed suicide in France, where she was pursuing a master’s degree in clinical psychology at University of Paris VIII.

Twenty-three years after her death, Qiu’s work is still a source of wonder. A documentary on her life aired on Hong Kong’s RTHK aired in January of last year, and a few months later NYRB Classics published the English translation of Notes of a Crocodile. I recently spoke with the book’s translator, Bonnie Huie, about Qiu’s work and legacy, and about the challenges of translation.


邱妙津是台湾第一位公开同性恋身份的作家之一,也是台湾前卫和反主流文学界的先驱。艺术电影和日本现代主义是她创作的重要影响,这既体现在她大学时发表的短篇小说,也体现在《鳄鱼手记》这本书。书中运用了大量的电影语言,譬如场景剪辑、定格、镜头拉近等等。就在这本书出版一年后,邱妙津在法国自杀,当时她正在巴黎第八大学(University of Paris VIII)攻读临床心理学硕士学位。

在她去世二十三年后,邱妙津的作品仍然称得上是奇迹。去年1月,一部关于她生平的纪录片在香港电台播出,几个月后,NYRB Classics出版了《鳄鱼手记》的英文译本《Notes of a Crocodile》。最近,我与这本书的译者Bonnie Huie聊了一下关于邱妙津的作品和她的影响,以及翻译这本书时她所遇到的挑战。

Neocha: How did you first come across Qiu Miaojin’s work?

Bonnie Huie: Qiu’s books came to me as a thank-you gift. A Taiwanese artist friend, who knew my work as a writer, had asked me to translate her own poetry collection. Though I translated the poems as a favor, what I received in return was of much greater value.


Neocha: 你最初是怎么接触到邱妙津的作品的?

Bonnie Huie: 一位台湾艺术家朋友请我帮她翻译她自己的诗集,然后送了一本邱妙津的书作为谢礼给我。尽管翻译诗歌本身只是出于帮朋友,但我所得到的回报却更有价值。

Neocha: What compelled you to bring Notes of a Crocodile to readers of English? When did you have the “aha” moment?

Bonnie Huie: I had the “aha” moment from the very first page of the book. Notes of a Crocodile has an uncanny combination of both strangeness and familiarity, and Qiu has a bold way of describing herself that’s not typically seen in Chinese or English literature. Her voice is idiosyncratic and striking. And the persona of Lazi—female, queer, and Chinese, an artist as well as an intellectual—is of monumental importance: in Taiwan, “Lazi” became a term for “lesbian.” She offers a rebuttal to the myth of a fetishized, genericized Asian woman that in the West goes hand-in-hand with ignorance about the history of colonialism in Asia.


Neocha: 是什么推动你把《鳄鱼手记》翻译成英语?你是在什么时候对这本书有一种眼前一亮的感觉?

Bonnie Huie: 我从翻开书的第一页时就有了一种眼前一亮的感觉。《鳄鱼手记》的特别之处在于它读起来既陌生又熟悉,邱妙津用一种大胆的方式来描述着自己,这种方式不论是在中国文学或是英语文学中都很少见。她的声音是独特的,引人注目的。拉子这个角色代表着女性、同性恋者、中国人,她既是艺术家也是一名知识分子。这个角色也具有极其重要的意义: 在台湾,“拉子”已对成为女同性恋者的代名词。她是对西方社会那种拜物教、典型亚洲女性偏见的一种反驳,这种偏见往往来自于他们对亚洲殖民主义历史的无知。

Neocha: In her journal entries, Lazi struggles to accept her sexuality as she falls in love for the first time. How did you convey that inner conflict in your translation?

Bonnie Huie: There’s no denying that Qiu’s prose derives its emotional force from the imagery of violence and mutilation. The gift of art is to make visible what cannot otherwise be seen, and Qiu, who studied psychology as an undergraduate, forged a figural language that illuminates some of the same phenomena that trauma studies explore today. I felt that my responsibility as a translator was to preserve the unstable, poetic dimension of the text by neither making meaning unambiguous nor rendering emotions into limp prose.


Neocha她在书中的日记写道,拉子第一次爱上别人时,在自己的性取向问题上产生了挣扎。你在翻译时要如何传达出她内心的冲突?

Bonnie Huie不可否认,邱妙津的文字的情感力量来自于暴力和残害的意象。艺术的天赋是使看不见的东西可见。对于本科修读心理学的邱妙津来说,她创造了一种形象的语言,讲述着现代创伤学也在探索的一些现象。我觉得作为一名译者,我的责任是保留下原文中那些不稳定、诗意的维度,所以翻译时既不能模糊喻义,也不能使将原本饱满的情绪变成软弱无力的文字。

Neocha: Many of Lazi’s struggles overlap with the author’s own. Did reading Qiu’s diaries make the translation process easier?

Bonnie Huie: Qiu wrote Lazi’s diaries, but Lazi didn’t write Qiu’s. The distinction between those two voices is clear when you read Qiu’s diaries, which are drier than Notes and which I put aside while translating. Autobiography can be a dangerous thing, as it can turn reading into the act of mentally reciting what you already know while failing to observe the nuances of what’s in front of you. Too often the artistry of women is minimized through the default lens of autobiography. Notes is rich in allusion to the world cinema and literature that has infiltrated the Taiwanese landscape. Those elements pointed me to my approach: to interweave the traits of the narrator, who is stifled by her own society, with those of her cosmopolitan influences, which offer the hope of transcendence through art.


Neocha: 拉子的许多挣扎都是作者自己经历的挣扎。读邱妙津的日记是不是可以使翻译的过程变得更容易?

Bonnie Huie: 邱妙津写了拉子的日记,但拉子没有写邱妙津的日记。所以,在读这两人的日记时,你会发现她们之间有很清楚的区别,邱妙津本人的日记会更平淡,我在翻译的时候会将她本人的日记放到一边。自传可以是一件危险的事物,因为你在读它的时候,很容易就会变成在背诵你对这个人物已经知道的事情,而忽略掉书中文字间透露的细微信息。很多时候,女性的艺术创作往往会因为自传而被最小化。《鳄鱼手记》充满着大量渗透到台湾社会的世界电影和文学的暗喻。这些元素也影响了我的翻译:将创作者身处囹圄般令人窒息的社会,与她带来的普世性的影响,交相演绎,提供了一种以艺术达到“超脱”的愿景。

Neocha: You’ve noted that the love letters between Lazi and Shui Ling were the most difficult parts of the book to translate. What made them so hard?

Bonnie Huie: Finding empathy for those who seem awfully young can be just as challenging as trying to comprehend those who are older. It’s curious, because we’ve been through that stage of life ourselves and ought to show more understanding and less condescension. When I read the love letters between Lazi and Shui Ling, I felt conscious of parts of myself that had become deadened. But as a translator, I had no choice but to put conviction into those words.


Neocha: 你有提到,拉子和水伶之间的情书是书中最难翻译的部分。为什么呢?

Bonnie Huie: 要对那些非常年轻的人感同身受,就像试图理解那些比你年长的人一样,都挺有挑战性的。这一点挺奇怪的,毕竟我们也早已经历过他们那些人生阶段,理应对他们表现出更多的理解,而不是以一种高人一等的态度面对他们。当我读到拉子和水伶之间的情书时,我意识到自己的某些情感已经麻木了。但作为一名翻译,我别无选择,只能让自己被这些文字说服。

Neocha: How has the book been received in English? Did the good timing—the translation came out just as Taiwan’s highest court ruled in favor of same-sex marriage—help garner attention?

Bonnie Huie: Notes of a Crocodile has certainly resonated with the kids of the Asian diaspora, a cosmopolitan audience that’s often denied visibility, and the translation has reached readers in countries where the primary language is not English. Qiu wrote the book in the months after she graduated from college in 1991, and it evokes the cataclysmic energy of its day—a desire for regime change—as exemplified by the fall of the Berlin Wall. The ruling in Taiwan not only provided a new cultural and historical context but drew a connection between art and politics.


Neocha: 这本书的英译本出版后回响如何?最近台湾的最高法院宣布支持同性婚姻,这样一个好时机是不是能让这本书增加热度?

Bonnie Huie:《鳄鱼手记》肯定能获得亚洲移民小孩的共鸣,他们是常常被忽视掉的世界性观众,译本甚至已经传到了一些母语不是英语的国家。1991年,邱妙津在大学毕业后的几个月里写了这本书,在当时,这本书带来了颠覆性的力量。而台湾高等法院的裁定不仅提供了一个新的文化和历史背景,也在艺术与政治之间建立了一种联系。

Neocha: Notes of a Crocodile is presented as a survival manual for the next generation. Do you think the story lives up to that ambition?

Bonnie Huie: The fact that the same book can be seen as either triumphant or extremely depressing, depending on the reader, says a lot. Not everyone needs a survival manual in the first place. Many people will never have to navigate a reality in which expressing the innermost dimension of their being puts them at risk of being disowned by family or ending up unemployable and homeless. But for some, that is the cost. And that remains true, even in the era of gay rights. The book is right in suggesting that one needs a vision in order to break a vicious cycle. In the end, Lazi’s life aligns with the freeze frame of The 400 Blows, which hints at liberation and a future yet to be determined.

I saw a comment online that said, “Notes of a Crocodile is too good to be true.” Apparently, someone got the message but decided it was impossible. I laughed and thought, “Good. The book was written for you.”


Neocha: 《鳄鱼手记》被视为是下一代年轻人的生存手册。你认为这种说法对吗?

Bonnie Huie: 同一本书,有人读来觉得充满欢乐,有人则会觉得极度压抑,这都取决于读者。首先,并不是每个人都需要一份生存手册。许多人一辈子都不需要因为表达他们真实的内心世界而被家人排斥,或者失业和无家可归。但对一些人来说,这就是他们要面临的代价。即使在今天这个同性恋平权的时代,仍然是这样。这本书建议每个人都需要有愿景,这样才能打破恶性循环。这一点我觉得是对的。故事最后,拉子的生活与电影《四百击》(The 400 Blows)的定格画面放在了一起,这暗示着解放和尚待确定的未来。

我看到网上有一个评论说:“《鳄鱼手记》太理想化了。”显然,有人看懂了书中的意思,但认为这是不可能的。我笑了,心想,太好了。这本书正是为你而写的。

Neocha: Notes of a Crocodile was long-listed for the PEN Translation Prize. Congratulations! What does this award mean to you?

Bonnie Huie: The book is an underdog in many ways, and I don’t think that will change anytime soon. As a translator, I value the opinion of my peers above all others, and I am grateful for their ability to escape the masculinist tendencies of many institutions. Literature can be too conservative for its own good. In other disciplines, such as the visual arts, interdisciplinary work is commonplace, radical political views are given a platform, and general audiences are tolerant of abstraction. Still, literature in translation is inherently avant-garde, because whenever it embodies an aesthetic or political consciousness with a tenuous existence in the dominant culture, it has the potential to articulate what’s repressed.


To pick up a copy of Notes of a Crocodile in Chinese, please click here. For the English translation, please click here.


Neocha: 《鳄鱼手记》入选“笔会翻译奖”(Pen Translation Prize),恭喜你!这个奖项对你来说有什么意义?

Bonnie Huie: 在很多方面,这本书都是处于弱势的一方,这一点我不认为会很快改变。作为一名翻译,我比较看重来自同龄人的意见,我也很庆幸他们有这种能力去摆脱许多制度中所存在的男权主义。有时候,文学可能会过于保守。而在其它领域,譬如视觉艺术,跨领域的作品可以说是司空见惯,这些领域为激进的政治观点提供了平台,一般观众都对抽象持宽容的态度。然而,翻译文学本质上是前卫的,因为每当它体现了主流文化中为人忽视的审美观或政治意识,它就有潜能去把被压抑那些所展现给大家看。


若有意购买《鳄鱼手记》中文版,请点击此处;购买英文版,请点击此处

Contributor: Megan Cattel
Photographer: Xu Anrong
Additional Images Courtesy of Evans Chan


供稿人: Megan Cattel
摄影师: Xu Anrong
附加图片由 Evans Chan 提供

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The Honesty of Fear 与生具来的恐惧

June 14, 2018 2018年6月14日

Indonesian illustrator and designer Mario Pegas Brianugraha believes fear is the most honest emotion of all, in that only when a person is frightened or distressed do they show their truest selves. And with this conviction, he’s tapped into the darkest corners of his imagination to spawn forth a world of terrors; a dystopian universe where humanoid monstrosities and cybernetic implants are the norm; a place where he plays the role of Dr. Frankenstein, dissecting and reassembling the body parts of his characters at will. “I’m obsessed with drawing the human physique,” he tells us. “It’s horrifying and polarizing to see human bodies being manipulated, to see it deconstructed and put back together to create something that’s close to human but not quite human.”


印尼插画家和设计师 Mario Pegas Brianugraha 相信,恐惧是最真实的情感;当人们经历惊吓或苦恼时,就会展露出其最本真的一面。他那些风格骇人的插图正是建立在这一信念之上的,灵感主要来自科幻电影、日本动漫和人体解剖学。他发挥着自己的暗黑想象力,创造了一个反乌托邦的宇宙,在那里,人形怪物、生化控制都屡见不鲜;在那里,他扮演弗兰肯斯坦博士的角色,任意解剖和重组他的角色的身体部分。他告诉我们:“我痴迷于绘画人体。看到人类的身体被这样操控,被解构,又重新组合成接近人类但不完全是人类的东西,是一件可怕又充满矛盾的事情。”

Aside from the human anatomy, science-fiction also lends a  heavy influence on his work. While he sees some sci-fi as being over the top, he believes the genre can pave the way for the future development of new technology. “Maybe some of the concepts seem impossible now, but tell that to the moon landing,” he quips. “It was only a few years after Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Spacey Oddysey (1968) when people took an interstellar journey they never thought was possible. Science-fiction offers a lot of interesting views on how we may live in the future, for better or for worse.”


除了这种对人体解剖的迷恋之外,科幻题材对他的作品也有很大的影响。他认为, 一些科幻作品的内容可能有点夸张,但却有助于人类为未来的科技发展设定目标。他说:“也许其中一些概念现在看来是天方夜谭,但这跟当年人类登上月球是一样的。斯坦利·库布里克(Stanley Kubrick)的电影《2001 太空漫游》(2001: A Space Odyssey)当年上映后不到几年,人类就真正实现了星际旅行,但在那之前,人们都觉得这是不可能实现的。科幻小说提供了很多关于人类未来的有趣概念,不论这个未来是变得更好或更糟。”

Behance: ~/brianugraha
Instagram: @brianugraha

 

Contributor: David Yen


Behance: ~/brianugraha
Instagram: @brianugraha

 

供稿人: David Yen

Modernizing the Accordion 音乐的魅力在于共鸣

June 1, 2018 2018年6月1日

 

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Once revered for its compactness and versatility, the accordion’s popularity has dwindled over past decades. Nowadays, when most people think of the instrument, old folk musicians or Parisian buskers are likely what comes to mind. Despite its fall from popularity, forward-thinking bands and musicians like Arcade Fire and Madvillain have proven the instrument can still be viable in contemporary music. And in Shanghai, equally eager to prove that the accordion shouldn’t be so quickly dismissed is independent musician Chen Kai.


手风琴,曾因其便携和灵活性而备受推崇,但过去几十年间,它已经渐渐尘封于人们的回忆里。现在,当大多数人想到这件乐器,大抵会想到年迈的民间音乐家或者巴黎的街头艺人。尽管不如从前流行,但像 Arcade Fire Madvillain 这样有远见的乐队和音乐家,却向大家证明了这种乐器在当代音乐中的地位依然不减。

而在上海,对此有着同样信念的,是独立音乐家陈楷。

All music evolves, and CK, as an accordionist with over two decades of experience, recognizes the importance of adapting. In fact, it’s especially important for an instrument that many consider archaic to keep up with the times. His awareness of this fact directly influences his playing style. Rather than relying on well-known tunes, his live shows are hour-long improvisational sets that blend unlikely genres—like psychedelic rock and baroque music—to form unclassifiable soundscapes.


其实,所有的音乐都在演变的过程中。作为一个有 20 多年经验的手风琴演奏家,陈楷认识到适应潮流的重要性。事实上,对于一个被许多人认为已经过时的乐器来说,手风琴演奏要跟上时代的步伐,显得尤其重要。这也直接影响了陈楷的演奏风格。陈楷现场演奏的并非那些人们耳熟能详的曲子,而是通过一小时的即兴表演,混合一些不太常见的流派──比如迷幻摇滚乐和巴洛克音乐──来形成独特而无法被归类的音乐背景。

Not only is CK able to wield the inherent versatility of the instrument, he makes full use of the effects pedals, transforming each note into something foreign yet familiar. Alternating between warm, soothing melodies to upheaving, violent crescendos, CK’s performances are a whirlwind of sound and emotion that both caress and assault the listener’s ears. Watching him perform is an enlightening experience that can sway even the most stubborn of skeptics to rethink the accordion’s place in modern music.


陈楷的演奏,不仅发挥出手风琴固有的即兴灵活的特性,还充分利用了效果器踏板,把每个音符都奏出了既熟悉又陌生的曲调。一曲曲演奏,温柔与暴烈并行,舒缓与激扬辉映,让听众得以斡旋于声音与情感之中,对耳膜既是爱抚,亦是冲击。观看陈楷的表演是一次极具启发性的体验,甚至连那些质疑手风琴地位的人,也会去反思手风琴在现代音乐中的位置。

While CK aspires to help his beloved instrument reclaim its rightful place in the world, it’s not the only thing that fuels his motivation. What truly stokes his creative flames is his appreciation of music’s cathartic qualities. To him, music is an outlet, and his accordion is a conduit, one that helps him bring his emotions into the world through sonic means.


陈楷渴望能让他心爱的手风琴重夺其在世应有的地位,但激励他的动力并不止于此。真正点燃他创作热情的,是他对音乐宣泄性的情感。对他来说,音乐是一个出口,他的手风琴是一种媒介,帮助他将自己的情感通过声音的方式带来这个世界。

Forming an emotional connection with others is perhaps the most rewarding part of being a musician. He speaks to others through his art and lets them interpret it as they will. “In Chinese visual art, negative space is an important concept,” he says. “It’s the room left aside for the viewer’s imagination and own interpretation to take shape. In my music, I try to follow this same concept.”


与他人在情感上建立联系,也许是陈楷作为音乐家来说获益匪浅的部分。通过音乐,陈楷得以与他人沟通,让人们从中解读出自己的东西。在中国的视觉艺术中,负空间是一个重要的概念。他说,这是为观众的想象力和自己的解释留下空间。在我的音乐中,我也试图遵循着与之相同的概念。

Of course, taste is subjective. Not only can different individuals find different meaning in the same song, but what qualifies as “good” music inevitably varies from person to person. As a seasoned musician and self-described lover of all genres, how does CK define “good” music?

Hesitating, he takes a long drag from his cigarette and exhales a lungful of smoke before breaking the silence: “Good music should come from the heart. It should move people. Simple as that.”


当然,个人品味是很主观的。不仅不同的人在同一首歌中能找到不同的含义,而且什么是“好”音乐也必然因人而异。作为一个经验丰富的音乐家和自我标榜的所有流派的爱好者,陈楷又是如何定义“好”音乐的呢?

犹豫半晌,他从香烟里抽出一根长长的烟,狠吸了一大口之后,才打破了沉默:“好的音乐应该发自内心。它应该能打动人们。就这么简单。”

Contributor & Photographer: David Yen
Videographers: Damien Louise, Cheok Lai


供稿人与图片摄影师: David Yen
视频摄影师: Damien Louise, Cheok Lai

White Night 在白夜下行走

May 31, 2018 2018年5月31日

Chengdu-based photographer Feng Li has worked on a single project, White Night, for over a decade now. The series, quirky and surreal, is a visceral exploration of the odd moments between and behind those we most often pay attention to. With no plans to stop or start on another, he says the series will only come to an end if he loses interest in taking pictures altogether.

Though in his early days he experimented with black-and-white and film photography, he now works primarily with a Sony digital camera and a mounted flash. Capturing everything in flash is a purposeful decision, often making it difficult to distinguish the time of day, a hallmark of the series.


来自成都的摄影师冯立,已经在单个摄影项目《白夜》(White Night)上进行创作逾 10 年了。这个系列离奇而超现实,它是对那些我们最会关注的人之间和其背后的古怪时刻的一种本能探索。由于还未计划停止或开始另一个摄影项目,冯立说,只有当他对拍照完全失去兴趣时,这个系列才会结束。

尽管冯立早年曾尝试过黑白摄影,但现在他主要使用索尼的数码相机和外接闪光灯。冯立此系列的一个显著特点,是在一瞬间捕捉一切,而这个决定带着明确的目的性,常会让人难以分辨出照片究竟是在一天中何时所拍摄的。

In an old article, the interviewer attempted to draw a comparison between Feng’s photography and his original field of study – Chinese medicine and acupuncture – writing, “It’s as though he approaches portrait photography as clinical cases. When the bulb’s warning light flashes, he’s able to accurately pinpoint the illness’s acupuncture point.” When I asked Feng, however, if he thought his previous profession influenced his artistic work, he replied that he thought the period had at most an indirect connection.

In such a response, one sees ties to the fact that even within the realm of artistic photography, he does not seem to care for either comparisons or a discussion of influences. White Night began when he was taking photos for his job as a photographer with the Chengdu propaganda department; that evening, he recalls, was particularly foggy, and the fog and the lights wrapped themselves around each other in surreal ways which reminded him of scenes from films by influential directors such as Angelopolous or Tarkovski. When I brought up this story, however, with a shrug, he replies, “It happens those are a few of what amount to the few films I’ve seen.” When I asked about photographers he’s named in the past as being of interest – Diane Arbus, William Eggleston, Nobuyoshi Araki, Han Lei – he said he had never used his own photographs to draw any comparisons to those of others, and that he rarely looks at photo books himself.


在一篇先前的文章中,采访者试图将冯立的摄影与他最初的研究领域──中医和针灸──进行比较,曾论及:“拍照时像是将人作为临床病例,总能在闪光灯发出警示的刹那找准病症的穴位。”然而,当我再问冯立他是否认为他以前的职业影响了他的艺术作品时,他的回答却是,他认为这段时期至多是一种间接的联系罢了。

即使在摄影领域,冯立似乎也不太爱比较或讨论影响的作用。《白夜》这个系列,开始于他在成都市宣传部门当摄影师的时候。在他记忆里的那个夜晚尤其模糊,蒸腾的雾气和朦胧的灯光,以超现实的方式把夜包裹,这让冯立想起了安杰洛波卢斯(Angelopolous)或塔尔科夫斯基(Tarkovski)等导演的电影场景。然而,当我提起这些的时候,他却淡然地答道:“碰巧这些只是我看过的为数不多的几部电影中的一部分。”当我问及他曾提起过感兴趣的摄影师,诸如黛安娜·阿伯斯(Diane Arbus)、威廉·埃格尔斯顿(William Eggleston)、荒木经惟和韩磊时,他说他从来没有用自己的照片来和这些人作比较,他自己也很少看影集。

It is difficult even to say that Feng considers himself an artist. Instead, he says, “I think of myself as a photographer, but use an artist’s style in order to think.” He has not tried other artistic mediums, and expresses no desire to do so. His primary inspiration, he says, is life, and his sole aim seems to be to approach life as a kind of unreal, storied fabric; he looks for unreal moments that to him ultimately comprise our chaotic reality. Nor does he spend his time fastidiously choosing the photos he likes best. There aren’t any unpublished White Nights photos, he says; basically anytime he takes a picture, he releases it online. Asked whether he minds that some have evaluated his work as ugly and amateurish, he said he’s never minded others’ experiences, and that ugly and amateurish are good evaluations as far as he’s concerned. Indeed, when I asked him to talk about composition and aesthetic, he claimed his photos have neither.


甚至,说冯立自认为是个艺术家也很难。反之,他说:“冯立没有尝试过其他艺术形式,也没有表达过这种想法。据他而言,他的主要灵感是生活,唯一的目标似乎就是把生活当作一种虚幻的、传奇式的材质来对待;他寻找不真实的时刻,且对他来说,这些时刻最终构成了我们混乱的现实世界。

对待自己喜欢的照片,冯立也毫不犹豫地直接发布,不经过任何选择。他说,《白夜》系列几乎没有未发布的照片,基本上任何时候拍下的任何照片,都会立刻在网上公开。

而当问及冯立是否介意有人评判他的作品丑陋又业余时,他的回答是,他从不关心别人的评论,而且就他而言,无论丑陋还是业余,那都是很棒的评价。事实上,当我请他谈论构图和美学时,他甚至声称他的照片根本不包含这些东西。

What, then, does Feng Li look for when he is photographing? Tellingly, when I asked him to describe a moment he’d been unable to capture, he said he was unable to describe it – “just like the moments I captured.” He told another interviewer that a good photo prevents you from understanding what happened and that it is filled with unknown, mystery, and uncertainty. I tried to go a step farther and ask what he thought a successful photo is, only to have him tell me that there is no such thing as a successful photograph – “just difficult-to-put-to-words photographs, no-way-to-use-writing photographs, or no-need-to-use-writing-to-describe photographs.” In terms of subjects, he says he can only run into them, that they cannot be sought out.


那么,冯立在摄影时在寻找什么呢?我请他描述一个他无法捕捉到的瞬间,但他却说这无法描述──“就像那些拍到的瞬间一样。” 他说,“一张好照片,它阻止了你理解发生的事情。它充满了未知、神秘和不确定的因素。”

我试着再进一步追问,问他认为一张成功的照片究竟是怎样的,结果他却告诉我,根本没有成功的照片这一说──“而对于被拍摄的对象,冯立说,他唯一能做的是与他们偶遇,而不是去寻找他们。

But despite his reticence to discuss influence, style, form, aesthetic, Feng Li has in fact expressed a pretty clear worldview throughout interviews and in his own artist’s statement: the world is problematic and in a state essentially of primeval chaos, such that a distinction between the real and the unreal is difficult to achieve. The moments he seize tell a story of a dangerous world, “reality’s others face,” an underbelly of existence that essentially is our reality, only too many people are too afraid to look directly at it. The only way to live, in Feng Li’s mind, is to do one’s utmost to understand the reality of existence through experiencing the world around oneself, the value of which cannot be replaced by others’ stories and experiences.


然而,尽管他不愿讨论影响、风格、形式、美学,但事实上,在整个采访和他发言中,冯立都表达出了相当清晰的世界观:这个世界是有问题的,本质上是一种原始的混乱状态,以至于很难区分真实与虚幻之间的差别。他拍下的一个个瞬间,都在讲述这个世界的危险故事,“现实世界是他人的脸庞”,我们所处的现实本质上正是存在的阴暗面,只是太多的人不敢直视它。在冯立的心中,唯一的方式就是通过体验周遭的世界,尽最大的努力去了解存在的现实,这种存在的价值是其他故事和经验所无法取代的。

For all that, though, he does not claim to understand reality; far from it. When previously asked to define his works in a few words, he responded he had finally reduced it to one: “Why?”

He calls eternity a question mark and says that he is still unable to understand the world, in the same way that he can’t express in words what his photographs might mean. This is a particular paradox: Feng thinks it of utmost importance to understand the chaotic world but rejects attempts to define or contextualize the photographs that attempt to capture that chaos. But paradoxes by nature wrap in on themselves: so perhaps the paradoxical nature of Feng Li’s mission – finding the unreal cracks that make our reality so real – made further inconsistency inevitable, and perhaps ultimately that is this artist’s point.


但即便如此,冯立却并不认为他理解了现实,甚至远不及理解。此前,冯立被要求用几句话来定义自己的作品,他最终简化为一句话作答,即:“为什么?”

他把永恒称为一个问号,并说他仍不能理解这个世界,就像他不能用语言表达他的照片的意味何在一样。而在这,矛盾显得尤其特殊:冯立认为了解混乱的世界是至关重要的,但他拒绝给那些试图捕捉混乱的照片下定义或加以语境。但这种矛盾自然而然地出现,所以,也许冯立的使命也正是相互矛盾的──去寻找使我们的现实如此真实的虚幻裂缝──以使得进一步无常性不可避免,或许最终,这就代表了这位艺术家的观点所在吧。

Website: fengli-photo.com
Instagram: @fenglee313

 

Contributor: Kiril Bolotnikov


网站: fengli-photo.com
Instagram: @fenglee313

 

供稿人: Kiril Bolotnikov

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Heavy Metal Mongolia 呐喊吧,你并不是唯一

May 29, 2018 2018年5月29日

It’s 1985 – about 100 people are standing around in a local concert hall in Ulaanbaatar, the capital city of Mongolia. Cigarette smoke and the murmur of social activity fill the air in equal measure. Members of the band Ayasiin Salkhi step onto the stage to set up their instruments.

Despite the country’s Soviet-allied government placing restrictions on anything it deems as promoting western ideals, many in the city are familiar with rock and roll, thanks to records and tapes that made their way into the country via black market smugglers or people returning from traveling through the Soviet Union, where contraband from the West is easier to obtain. But once the first guitar chords strike, it’s apparent that Ayasiin Salkhi aren’t playing the rock and roll on those black market records. This is something strange and new – this is heavy metal.


时间回到1985年,大约有100人挤在蒙古首都乌兰巴托的一间音乐厅里,二手烟的烟雾和人们交谈的低语声弥漫于此。这时 Ayasiin Salkhi 乐队的成员走上舞台设置乐器。

尽管当时因为蒙古政府与苏联结盟的关系,所有有助于传播西方思想的行为都被禁止,但许多人对于摇滚乐还是相当熟悉,这要感谢来往于黑市的走私者和从苏联旅行回来的人,他们将唱片和录音带带进蒙古,因为在苏联这些来自西方的违禁品更容易取得。但是,当 Ayasiin Salkhi 弹下第一个和弦,很显然的这不是从黑市那里听得到的摇滚乐—这既新奇又古怪—这是重金属。

As Mongolia’s­ first-ever metal band, Ayasiin Salkhi were pariahs in the 1980s.

Heavy metal was relegated to the fringes of Mongolia’s contemporary musical conscience. But metal has clawed its way back over the last 30 years, and now boasts a growing, dedicated following and its own festival in the steppe nation.

One of the Mongolian metal scene’s most ardent supporters is Unenkhuu Umbanyamba, or Uugii, the man behind Mongolia’s biggest annual heavy metal event – Noise Metal Festival – which marks its five-year anniversary this coming autumn.

After seeing how heavy metal festivals in other countries brought like-minded fans together, Uugii felt Mongolia’s metal community needed one of its own.

“We needed this festival to play, to express ourselves – to, you know, just let our energy and emotions go,” he says.


作为蒙古有史以来第一支金属乐队,生长在 80年代的 Ayasiin Salkhi 是被社会放逐的。

重金属处在蒙古当代音乐场景的最边缘。它花了过去30年的时间慢慢找回自己的地位,现在在这个草原国度里,重金属乐已经拥有为数众多的热忱追随者,甚至还有自己的金属音乐节。

Unenkhuu Umbanyamba(Uugii) 是金属乐最狂热的拥护者之一,他同时也是 “噪音金属节” 的幕后操手。噪音金属节是蒙古金属乐界最具代表性的活动 ,今年秋季即将迎来第五周年。

在看到其他国家的金属音乐节是如何将志同道合的乐迷聚集在一起后,Uugii 认为蒙古也需要这样的活动。“我们需要这个音乐节来表达自己,一个让我们尽情宣泄能量和情绪的地方” 他说。

Uugii, the founder of Noise Metal Festival

The first Noise Metal Festival took place in 2014 at UB Palace, a venue in the capital. Uugii was equal parts excited and nervous at the uncertainty surrounding that inaugural event.

Ten bands were booked – eight local and two foreign acts – yet the execution of the event fell short of Uugii’s expectations. “It was a failure, but a big learning experience,” he recollects, noting production difficulties and the sizeable debt he incurred from renting all the equipment at exorbitant rates.

When asked why the difficulties didn’t deter him from throwing a second festival the following year, Uugii put it simply: “First is the passion I have for the music. Secondly, if I didn’t do it, nobody else would.”


第一届噪音金属节于2014年在首都乌兰巴托的 UB Palace 举行。 Uugii 对于首次举办这种活动,感到既兴奋又紧张。

他总共预定了10组乐队——8个本地乐团和2个外国乐团,但第一次音乐节的执行成效不如 Uugii 的预期。 “这是一次失败的经验,但我们从中学习到很多。” 他回忆起筹办中遇到的各种困难,还有当时因为租用高价设备所留下的巨额债务。

当被问到为什么这些困难没有阻止他举办第二届音乐节,Uugii 回答:“首先是我对音乐的热情。 其次,如果我不去做,就没有人会去做了。”

Subsequent iterations of Noise Metal Festival have gone much better, with the turnout growing each year and international acts from Canada, Russia, Japan and Singapore joining the home-grown lineups.

But Andy Teesh remembers when that wasn’t the case in Mongolia. He was the front-man for Ayasiin Salkhi at that 1985 show.

As a high school student, Teesh’s grades and aptitude in extra-curricular activities earned him a scholarship to study in Russia at a police training school in Volgograd. An Iron Maiden tape made its way into Teesh’s possession when he was visiting Moscow, giving the young Mongolian his first taste of the music that would divert his trajectory as an aspiring officer.

Because Mongolia had close ties to the Soviet Union in the 1980s, many of the steppe nation’s citizens were living, working, and studying in Russia. Teesh met other compatriots who also fell in love with heavy metal – so much so that they wanted to play it.

“I got the idea to start the band in 1984. I met this kid in Moscow that was still in high school but could play the guitar . . . I met another kid who used to live in Odessa that played the drums really well, another kid who played bass,” he says. “We all thought that we needed to start a heavy metal band back home.”

And the group became Ayasiin Salkhi, or “Fair Wind” in English, a name that served as something of an antonym to one more suited to a death metal band – “like ‘Death Hurricane,’” Teesh says with a laugh. The name also kept the band off any intrepid censor’s radar.


噪音金属节后来进行的越来越顺利,到场人次逐年增加,演出乐队也更国际化,来自加拿大、俄罗斯、日本和新加坡的乐队都曾加入演出阵容。

但是当 Ayasiin Salkhi 乐队的主唱 Andy Teesh,回想起以前金属乐还默默无闻的时候——那时 Teesh 还是高中生,课外活动的优异成绩让他获得一笔奖学金,可以在俄罗斯伏尔加格勒的警察培训学校学习。当他访问莫斯科,拿到了一卷铁娘子乐团的录音带。这是这位蒙古年轻人第一次品尝到金属乐,这改变了他的人生轨道,转移了他原本要成为一个军官的目标。

80年代由于蒙古与苏联的密切关系,许多蒙古公民都会去俄罗斯生活、工作和学习。Teesh 在那里遇见了同样喜爱重金属的同好,他们决定要组一个乐队。

“1984年我有了创建一个乐队的想法。我在莫斯科遇到了一个还在念高中、会弹吉他的小子…… 后来我遇到了另一个住在敖得萨的小子,他鼓演奏的很好,还有另一个会弹贝斯的。” 他说,“我们一致认为,我们需要在家乡组一个重金属乐队。”

“这个组合即是后来的 Ayasiin Salkhi (在蒙古语中意思是“正义的风”),这个名字恰好是一个 “死亡金属乐队” 的反义词。“可能 ‘死亡飓风’ 这样的名字会更适合金属乐队吧。”  Teesh 笑着说,但这个名字让他们成功躲过了审查员的雷达。

By 1985, all members of Ayasiin Salkhi were back in Ulaanbaatar, having spent the previous year practicing their sound. In that time, Teesh landed a job with the Investigation Department of Mongolia’s Ministry of Justice, a position he is still proud of. In stark contrast to the long-hair, black skull cap, heavy Iron Maiden shirt and combat boots dons on any given day, Teesh still has black-and-white pictures of the clean-cut, fresh-faced investigator he was back then, complete with the crisp, grey uniform of his profession. But that didn’t stop the band from practicing constantly.

“When I came back, I earned the rank of lieutenant,” he says. “I even played in the Investigation Department’s band. However, I started to put Ayasiin Salkhi first and spent more time practicing because, in the end, I was a metal head.”

That was the same year Ayasiin Salkhi had their inaugural, ill-fated show.


到了1985年,Ayasiin Salkhi 乐队所有成员都回到了乌兰巴托,他们花了一整年的时间不断地练习。当时 Teesh 在蒙古司法部的调查部门已经找到一份工作,想到这段过往,他仍然不掩骄傲的神情。工作所需保持的形象和平常留着长发、带着黑色骷髅帽子、身穿铁娘子乐队的衣服和一双军靴的他,形成了鲜明的对比。Teesh 拥有一张他还是调查员的黑白照片,照片中的他干净俐落、神态轻松、穿着整齐的灰色制服。但这份工作没有阻止乐队继续发展。

“当我回来时我获得了中尉的职位。” 他说。“我甚至参加了调查部门的乐队。 但是我开始将 Ayasiin Salkhi 放在我的首位,花上更多时间练习。因为我终究是一个金属迷。“

Ayasiin Salkhi 在同年举行了第一次登台表演,而这是一场不幸的表演。

Teesh recalls: “Our show was really badly received. It was very different in Mongolia back then. The way we were behaving on stage, with the head-banging, our look, and our singing style – for most of the people in the audience, it was very nightmare-like, almost like we were evil.”

There was an almost immediate media blackout enforced on Ayasiin Salkhi. No newspapers were allowed to write about them, no TV stations were allowed to broadcast about them, no radio stations were allowed to play their music. Teesh started to get pressure to abandon heavy metal from family members, friends, and by his superiors at the Investigation Department.

“My bosses told me: ‘Criminals and gangsters listen to this music, so if you are an investigator, be an investigator.’ If you played metal music during communist times, you were seen as supporting Western ideology, as well as disrespecting your own art and culture. In other words, you lacked communist ethics and ideals,” says Teesh.


Teesh 回忆起:“我们那年的表演真的很糟糕。这种音乐当时在蒙古非常少见。我们在舞台上表演的方式,撞击彼此的头,我们的穿着打扮、演唱风格——这对于大多数观众来说是噩梦般的体验,几乎像我们是邪恶的。”

随之而来的,是对 Ayasiin Salkhi 乐队立即的媒体封锁。没有报纸、电视台、广播电台被允许刊登他们的信息,也不能播放他们的音乐。Teesh 开始受到来自家人朋友以及工作上级长官,说服他放弃重金属的压力。

“我的老板告诉我:‘只有犯罪分子或流氓会听这种音乐,如果你是一个调查员,就要有调查员的样子。如果你在共产时期玩金属音乐,你会被认为支持西方意识形态,不尊重你本身的艺术文化。换句话说,你缺乏共产主义的道德和理想。”Teesh 说。

Mongolia ended its status as a satellite state of the Soviet Union with a democratic revolution in 1990. Just as the country had chosen a new direction, Teesh too had a choice to make that year: a career as an investigator or a life in heavy metal. He chose metal.

“There were few fans, no income, and no respect for us,” says Teesh, who still fronts the band today. “Our families and friends even told us to quit, but it didn’t matter because our hearts were in metal music that much.”

Mongolia’s revolution ushered in a new wave of openness to the outside world in the 1990s, but some of the old biases against what many deemed as western culture remained.


1990年,蒙古发起了民主革命,结束它长期与苏联结盟的关系。正如同国家选择了一个新方向,Teesh 也面临一个抉择:调查人员的职业生涯或是重金属。他选择了重金属。

“我们几乎没有粉丝,没有收入,也没有人尊重我们。” Teesh 说,他今天仍然是 Ayasiin Salkhi 乐队的核心人物。 “当时我们的家人朋友甚至直接告诉我们放弃,但这并不重要,因为金属乐在我们心里实在太重要了。”

当时的革命为蒙古迎来了一股改革开放的新浪潮,但还是有许多人对于西方文化抱持一些难以革除的偏见。

Uugii is a member of the generation of Mongolian metal heads that really embraced the genre in the 1990s. Rock and roll was now celebrated, commemorated with a monument dedicated to The Beatles erected in Ulaanbaatar – one of the bands many growing up in communist Mongolia became fans of through illegal record swaps.

Still, heavy metal and the culture that came with it chafed against the social sensibilities of 1990s Mongolia. “Back in the day, people would say ‘Those metal-heads, or whoever listens to rock, are potheads who are just into drugs and sex,’” says Uugii. “This kind of perception carried onto the next generation and people saw people like me and would say, ‘Oh, you guys who listen to this really heavy music probably do drugs,’ but I don’t even smoke cigarettes.”

That experience sowed the seeds for Uugii to later launch Noise Metal Festival, seeing it as his “mission” to one day “help people here understand metal music more as a form of art.”


Uugii,也就是噪音金属节的主办人,是上世纪90年代拥护这种音乐类型的元老级人物。那时最盛行的是摇滚乐,一个向披头士致敬的纪念碑竖立在乌兰巴托街头,以缅怀这个伟大的乐队。许多成长在共产主义的蒙古之下的人,都是通过黑市的唱片交易认识到披头四的。

尽管如此,重金属及其伴随的文化仍然无法被当时敏感的社会所接纳。 “当时,人们会说 ‘那些听金属或是摇滚乐的人,都是大麻和性爱上瘾的毒虫。’ ” Uugii 说。 “这种观念传到下一代,人们看到像我这样的人,会说 ‘哦,听这种金属乐的人可能都在吸毒’。可是我甚至连烟都不抽。”

这样的经验,在 Uugii 心中种下举办噪音金属节的念头,并将其视为他有朝一日要完成的 “使命”——要帮助人们更理解作为一种艺术形式的金属乐。”

The genre has come a long way in Mongolia since then. Local heavy metal albums can be found in the capital’s music stores, and the internet has ushered in a new era of music discovery for the country’s mostly young population. The new generation of Mongolia’s metal heads faces much less resistance in society. According to some, that fact has fostered a greater willingness in the youth to express themselves how they see fit. And Noise Metal Festival has become a place where all generations of the country’s metal heads gather.

Battulga Khurelbaatar is the lead singer of one of Ulaanbaatar’s up-and-coming heavy metal bands, Growl of Clown. The 21-year-old has taken the stage at Noise Metal Festival with his band for the past three years. With a greater ability to express oneself, he says it’s a lot easier for metal fans to build a sense of community in the country.

The young metal head also sees the genre as having a positive influence, a departure from the biases of the past. “This whole metal thing, I’ve never regretted pursuing it or the things I’m doing. Some people may think they may be better off if they chose a different route, but listening to metal music has been a very positive influence on me,” says Khurelbaatar.


从那之后,金属乐走过了很长一段路。现在在乌兰巴托的唱片行可以找到金属乐专辑,网络的兴起让年轻人更容易接触到新音乐,新一代金属迷在社会上承受的压力要小得多。有些人认为,这波浪潮促使年轻人更愿意表达自己。噪音金属节已经成为各世代金属迷相聚的地方。

Battulga Khurelbaatar 是乌兰巴托崛起的重金属乐队 “Growl of Clown” (“咆哮小丑”) 的主唱。这位21岁年轻人的乐队在过去三年里曾在噪音金属节登台。少了社会的压力,金属迷可以更好的表达自己,他认为现在要在蒙古金属乐迷之间建立凝聚力,再也不是一件困难的事。

年轻的金属乐迷也认为这种音乐类型具有积极的影响力,因为它消除了过去的偏见。“关于金属乐这件事,我从来没有后悔过追求它和做我现在正在做的事情。有些人可能会认为如果当初选择了不同的路,他们现在会过得更好。但金属乐对我而言有非常正向的影响。” Khurelbaatar 说。

Ayasiin Salkhi has also graced the stages of Noise Metal Festivals. After the turbulence of their first 20 years as a band, they released their first album in 2004. They’ve also racked up countless performances both at home and abroad. Yet, to Teesh, Noise Metal Festival is still an important event for both his band and Mongolia’s metal community as a whole.

“The festival is helping the Mongolian metal scene to grow further. Hopefully, it will attract more metal bands and attendees from abroad to come and experience Mongolia, to see this scene,” says Teesh. “I want more people to experience Mongolian heavy metal.”

While Mongolia’s heavy metal scene has grown, Uugii is still the main force behind its biggest event. Support from outside the metal scene ebbs and flows; the festival has test-driven three venues in its four years of existence, though none is quite a perfect fit. Promises of sponsorship and more commercial funding for Noise Metal Festival often come and go. He generally bears the brunt of the work and financial responsibilities of organizing it. Last-minute changes to the lineup have happened at every festival. Still, the growing turnout year on year means that things are still going more right than wrong.

Despite the difficulties, Uugii expresses no intention of stepping away from keeping the fest going: “When I think about myself, you know, ten years from now, I’ll probably still be doing Noise Metal Fest. I’ll do it for as long as I can. I don’t really feel like I have any other options except to keep doing it.”


Ayasiin Salkhi 乐队的确为噪音金属节增色不少。即使乐队从成立到现在,20年以来经历各种动荡不安,到了2004年终于发行第一张专辑,现在已获得无数国内外的演出机会。然而对 Teesh 来说,噪音金属节对他的乐队和整体乐界来说,仍然是一件重要的事情。

“这个音乐节正在帮助蒙古金属乐市场进一步发展。希望它可以吸引到更多金属乐队和来自国外的乐迷来看看这个地方。” Teesh说,“我希望能有更多人能体验到蒙古的重金属场景。”

尽管蒙古的金属乐版图已经越来越大,但 Uugii 仍然是活动背后的主力军。外界的支持力量时好时坏,四年来他们在三个场地试办过,尽管没有一个是完全适合的。赞助和商业合作的机会总是来来去去,不太稳定。总体上 Uugii 承担着首要的组织工作和财务责任。每次在最后一刻总会发生阵容上的变化。尽管如此,噪音金属节依然年复一年的成长,意味着这件事情是走在正确的方向上,而不是错误的。

即使困难重重,但 Uugii 并不打算放弃这场盛事:“当我试想十年后的自己,我可能还在办噪音金属节,我会尽可能做到这一点。除了继续做下去之外,我并不觉得自己有其他选择。”

Contributor & Photographer: Bejan Siavoshy


供稿人与摄影师: Bejan Siavoshy