《剩餘》朱嵐清個展

主辦人/單位: 十方藝術空間
活動類別: 展覽

首次展演日期: 2019-07-27    結束展演日期: 2019-09-14
詳細時間說明:
07/27-09/14，13:00-19:00；07/27 18:00-21:00

活動地點:十方藝術空間

地址:台北市中山區德惠街51號

《剩餘》朱嵐清個展
"the Surplus/Residual" Zhu Lan Qing

展覽日期 ▍2019/07/27-2019/09/14
開幕茶會 ▍2019/07/27 18:00-21:00
開放時間 ▍週二-週六 13:00-19:00
展覽地點 ▍十方藝術空間（台北市中山區德惠街51號）
網站連結 ▍https://www.galerieovo.com/20190727chu

*開幕茶會開放時間：18:00-21:00

Curated by Jay Chun-Chieh LAI

記憶的形狀——朱嵐清《剩餘》
Mould of Memories—Zhu Lan Qing the Surplus/Residual


文/賴駿杰 Jay Chun-Chieh LAI

攝影影像自發明之始，就注定了其宿命：輕薄、（可）複製的特性，讓它成為一種獨立於原本的強有力之「附著」，因此常被視為對本真/原本的「補償（complement）」。隨著資本主義的進化與媒體技術的演變，影像化身為一種證辭，也可以是情感與記憶，更可成為供以消費的「印象（正面與負面的）」，呼應其「印記（imprint，銘刻）」的本質。然而，從技術層面來看，相較於繪畫或文學書寫（即我們說的drawing）等創作形式，攝影影像的銘刻或許相對脆弱，無論是化學藥劑的顯影（終將褪去），還是總需被重新編譯的數位影像系統。而當它的物質條件越趨薄弱、取得影像的方式朝向輕鬆與普遍時，攝影就真正成為了一種「剩餘」：同時指向「過剩的（surplus）」與「餘下的（residual）」。前者表述了影像生產氾濫的時代背景，以及所因此引致的時間/記憶之庸俗化，或者如其字面所指稱的「滿溢」，一個溢出現實—時（此時此在）的副本；後者則可從攝影最原始的生成形式來理解，即化學變化所留下的殘積——真正回應了光的軌跡而的影像遺留。

以上兩條脈絡皆可使我們更接近朱嵐清的作品，一方面，在很大程度上，她關心的題材都圍繞在與情感消費有關的旅遊/運輸產業，以及在此產業中因生產過剩所導致的景觀遺址，例如《山上的雅努斯（Janus on the Mountains, 2016）》（阿爾卑斯山滑雪轉運站）、《百億新城（Ten Billion New City, 2015-2019）》（東山島度假村開發計劃），以及《沉船發掘記（Excavations of a Shipwreck, 2017）》（泉州港的興衰史）系列，探討的都是在經濟發展需求下，日常景觀以及人與地方的關係是如何被影響與改變的？以及，更重要的是，最終留下了什麼樣的「過剩（即不再被需要的）」？這是從全球化之生產與流通條件來切入的理解。在此基礎上，剩餘可以說是資本主義流通的必要邏輯，在此文脈中，即為「影像工業」的生產與流通，包括被進步影像所掩蓋與取代之過往的、陳舊的影像，回應了藝術家念茲在茲的都市化與全球化所帶來之地方性抹除——理應存留但仍被轉化與消耗掉的「剩餘價值（surplus value）」。百億新城，粗暴但也直白地指向中國夢歷史篇章的地方版本；透過藝術家「重寫歷史文本」的手法，在如此龐大的度假村開發所堆積之資本殘留中，企圖重塑想像的百億之城。

然而，若從其影像的形式與美學氣質來看，則會導向另一種「剩餘（the residual）」，也就是那些被時間所篩出、刮除而餘下的影像碎片。與其說她的攝影是一種主動、積極抓取與保存現實/時的姿態，不如說它更多地做為一種濾鏡，藉以篩出不被留存的記憶。而那些被視為無用的、粗糙且無以名狀之「其他」--被摒棄的剩餘，才是真正得以包圍（形塑）出「記憶的形狀」之物。例如她在《負向的旅程（A Journey in Reverse Direction, 2013-2015）》與《百億新城》中所捕捉之瑣碎的、再尋常不過的家用品，與殘破的遊艇，以及或許看了也想不起來的家庭相簿（拍攝，就以為記住了；所謂的「到此一遊」）。透過這些被丟棄的總和，重新再檢選出應該被記得的人、事與物件；具體來說，在朱嵐清的作品裡，被拍攝者多半都是被主流敘事篩選過的影像剩餘，總是反過來以近似游擊影像的複多、無脈絡、潛伏的書寫姿態，重新包圍大敘事，展開如其在《負向的旅程》創作自述中所謂的戰鬥（fighting，對抗全球化所致的去差異化）。

這兩種層面皆有一特點，即「中空的（void）」，這個空是並不是負面貶義的空泛，而更像是等待被灌注漿液的空間，用以包覆終將被藝術家摒棄的，堅實，但又笨拙、冗贅的大他者（big other）。這個想像的思考模型來自《負向的旅程》系列，在一張藝術家穿上奶奶留下的服裝之自我肖像中，在這個其所宣稱為象徵「起點」之裝扮中，我看到了時間的縫隙。這縫隙是，地方性與全球化敘事之間相互依存的空間；或許可以從灌模與澆鑄的塑形過程來想像，沒有原模，也不會有成果。模，完成了使命後雖然不見得會被丟棄，但它終究不會是可以被消費的物件，它存在的價值或許只剩下「歷史的證辭」。另一方面，模也會在無數次的生產/勞動而逐漸消耗，最後連「印」象都不會留下。這種介於原本與結果，過去與現在之間的縫隙，也是藝術家所掙扎的（依附於時間的）情感空間：在朱嵐清的身體與奶奶的衣物之間。誠然，再現歷史是不可能的，情感的投射也總是有誤差，而模具與塑形的譬喻想像，則共同指出我們常常陷入的、將對於過去的認同依附在他人歷史之無可避免的誤解。但我認為，藝術家是有意識到的：記憶是一種附著狀態，情感/感覺是一種剩餘；而怎麼把這附著狀態給包圍起來，就是她的影像方法。�

《負向的旅程》與《百億新城》，共同建構了藝術家對於家的想像與理解，部分基於具體的家族人物與家庭生活的真實記憶，但更多的是她如何藉由影像來過濾出「地方感」——一種不會被寫在方志裡頭的，關於記憶、情緒與認同等無形之傳承。圍繞著其家鄉「東山島」所展開的兩系列作品，聚焦在快速都市化背景下所逐漸被遺忘的民俗與經濟活動、社群/家庭記憶，以及傳承自祖父母輩的經驗與物件等，皆重新被錨釘在時間的浮流裡。「負向」，在此不只如藝術家所宣稱之逆流的尋根敘事；從另一個面向來理解，所謂的「負」也指向了自身認同上的缺失：那些即便再往前也到不了的過去。展場空間中影像碎片與歷史殘蹟之拼貼並置所呈現的暗示，即那些敘事場景的邊邊角角、被忽視的地方，皆詩意地再現了樂園（paradise，關於度假村的終極理想）的衰頹，與家族/記憶/生命的邊緣。採用與這些「剩餘」相同的姿態，即同樣藉由大量、往復與重疊的方式，朱嵐清的影像碎片也積累且凝聚出情感的重量，緩慢、笨拙地重擊觀者的心靈；同時回應著屬於此一世代所面對的時代焦灼——那些被捨棄但又牢印之「記憶的形狀」。


Since their invention, photographic images were destined to become light, thin, and reproducible. These characteristics make photography a strong and powerful “attachment” independent of the original, which is why photography is often perceived as a “complement” to authenticity/reality. As capitalism and media technology advanced, images have served as a kind of evidence; they can be a sentiment, a memory, or even a consumable “impression (positive and negative)” that echoes the “imprinted” nature of photography. However, from a technical perspective, photography may produce a relatively weaker “imprint” compared to other forms of creation, such as drawing or literary writing—considering the chemical photo development (that will eventually fade away) and the digital imaging system that needs to be constantly re-edited. When the material criteria become weaker and the methods of image acquisition become easier and more ubiquitous, photography really becomes a kind of “remnant,” which refers to being surplus and residual at the same time. The former expresses the background of an era of excessive image production and the subsequent vulgarization of time/memory. Perhaps like the literal meaning of “surplus,” photography is described as a carbon copy that exceeds the reality. Meanwhile, the latter can be interpreted from the most primitive formation of photography—the residual chemical changes or images that really reacted to the trajectory of light.

Both of the above contexts can help us better approach Zhu Lan Qing’s works. On one hand, many of the themes she cares about revolve around travel/transportation industries related to emotional consumption, as well as the landscape heritage sites that result from overproduction in these industries. Some examples include Janus on the Mountains (2016) (Alps Ski Transfer Station), Ten Billion New City (2015-2018) (Dongshan Island Resort Development Plan), and Excavations of a Shipwreck (2017) (Rise and Fall of the Port of Quanzhou). All of these series examined how the relationship between ordinary landscapes, people, and places are affected and changed under needs for economic development. More importantly, what are the “(unneeded) surpluses” that were left behind? This understanding is based on the criteria for global production and circulation. On this basis, the surplus can be said to be a necessary logic for capitalism circulation, which is the production and circulation of the “imaging industry” in the context of this article. This includes previous old images being overridden and replaced by improved images. In correspondence to artists’ concerns about local eradications from urbanization and globalization—“surplus values” are being converted and consumed while they should be preserved. Ten Billion New City boldly and straightforwardly referred to a local version of the history of the Chinese dream. Through the approach of “rewriting historical texts,” the artist attempted to reconstruct a Ten Billion New City from imaginations based on the capital surplus in such an enormous resort development.

However, judging the images from their styles and aesthetic temperaments will lead to the other type called “the residual,” namely the image fragments that remain from the selection and extraction by time. Instead of describing Zhu Lan Qing’s photography as an active way of extracting and preserving reality, her work actually serves more as a filter to sift out unretained memories. Those “others” perceived as useless, rough, and indescribable—the residuals for removal are what really created (formed) the mould of memories. In the example of A Journey in Reverse Direction, 2013-2015, Zhu Lan Qing captured trivial, commonplace home products, broken yachts, and unimpressive family photo albums (things that were remembered during the shot for the visit). Through the sum of these items for disposal, the people, events, and objects that should be remembered were re-selected. More specifically speaking, most of the models in Zhu Lan Qing’s works are image residuals filtered by mainstream narrative. In a multiple, context-free, latent writing style that resembles guerilla images, Zhu Lan Qing’s works often surround the main narrative and demonstrate the fighting (against the de-differentiation caused by globalization) that she described in her self-description in A Journey in Reverse Direction.

Both of these perspectives share the characteristic of being “void.” It does not imply emptiness in a negative sense, but rather it is more like a space that waits to be filled with serous fluid. The space is used to cover up the strong but clumsy big other that will be ultimately abandoned by the artist. This imagined model of thinking came from the series, A Journey in Reverse Direction. From a self-portrait of the artist in her grandmother’s clothes, I see a gap of time in this outfit as it symbolized a “starting point.” This gap serves as an interdependent space between local and global narratives. Perhaps it can be imagined as the moulding process with filling and pouring. Products cannot be made if there were no master moulds. While the mould may not be necessarily disposed after it completes the duty, it may only be left with the value of being a “historical evidence” because it is not an item for consumption. On the other hand, the mould will gradually wear out during countless cycles of production/labor until there are no more “imprints.” This kind of gap between reality and outcome, past and present is also a (time-based) emotional space (between Zhu Lan Qing’s body and her grandmother’s outfit) that the artist struggles with. Clearly, it is impossible to reproduce history and there will always be some variations in emotional reflection. Meanwhile, the mould and moulding analogy also points out our inevitable misunderstanding to attach past identifications to other people’s history. I believe that the artist recognized memory as a status of attachment and emotions/feelings as a kind of residual. It is her imaging style to enclose the conditions of such attachment.

Together, A Journey in Reverse Direction and Ten Billion New City jointly constructed the artist’s imaginations and understandings about home. A part of it was based on actual memories of specific family members and home-living, while more was about how she used images to filter out “a sense of locality.” This invisible legacy of memories, emotions, and identifications would not documented in local records. The two series of works based on Zhu Lan Qing’s hometown “Dongshan Island” focused on the customs, economic activities, social communities/family memories, and grandparents’ experiences and objects as they were gradually forgotten under rapid urbanization. All of them were re-anchored within the river of time. Here, the meaning of “reverse” does not only refer to the artist’s opposite root-seeking narrative. From another perspective, “reverse” also implies the artist’s issues with self-identification: the past that we can never arrive by going forward. In the exhibition space, hints from the arrangement of image fragments and historical remnants, those residuals from narrative scenes and overlooked places all poetically re-illustrated the rise and fall of paradise (ultimate imaginations about a resort), and the extent of family/memory/life. By adopting a similar style as these “residuals” and using lots of reciprocating, overlapping expressions, Zhu Lan Qing’s image fragments also produced rich emotions that slowly and awkwardly struck viewers’ heart. At the same time, she responds to the anxiety of this generation—those abandoned but imprinted “mould of memories.”

活動聯絡電話: 02-25915296    活動聯絡人: 吳小姐