text by Lin Kun-Ying
Here you go ! Take a sip of whisky, and let me tell you a story.
It was my first residency. I became quite aware of different fragments of time. It could be as short as the ticking of a clock, or as a rustle of leaves when the wind blew; it could be as long as ordering something online and only got it after two weeks, or as the spring water that flew into the distillery and stayed there for decades. You see, time is an old-fashioned subject, but one needs to be calm and focused in order to catch a glimpse of it. Among all the time fragments, I have been searching for the cycle that connected them together, a way of representation that could capture both the bright, blazing bonfire and its warm, red embers. If time could be proven, it would be in things that were repeated again and again, like our habits. For example, Andy has been running the AIR program for 15 years. Think about it. Every year, the program is the same, but it also changes completely because the people are different. During the residency, I visited many ancient places that were uninhabited. I touched some really ancient, weather-beaten things. However, the three-centuries old Dufftown was relatively young comparing to many other Scottish cities and towns. Time has deposited and formed innumerous strata. What I could get from them, though, was not perceived; it was a sense of feeling touched after making my observations. One day, I hung a sock and drank the water from the Healing Spring. I was told that one could pray for the sick here, and when the clothes were weathered and gone, the sick would regain health again. It was the most romantic version of the cycle of time I have ever heard. When the person in my prayers get better, my sock would be weathered and disappear.
It is just like the whisky in our mouths. Let us become part of the water's cycle. Here, at this moment, we become one with nature.
The Evaporation of Time
During the distillery tour and my residency, I observed the water.
The pure water of Dufftown was involved in all process of whisky making, from the mountain springs to the distillery, from the malt and its fermentation to the distillation and getting the cut, from filling the barrels to the bottled single-malt whisky after maturation. I came across a particularly romantic term that caught my attention. It is called the "angel's share," which refers to the evaporation of water from the casks into the air during maturation. This precisely echoes the concept of "cycle" in my work. In this work, audience can see slices of the whisky barrels, how the whisky is stored for a long time, the spirit, and the disappearance of water.
Collaborating with the senior workers at the distillery, we created three works together.
Time Barrel - Structured with sliced old whisky casks, it is filled with non-fermented spirit to let it slowly evaporate. Marks are produced accordingly to count and tell the time. This work is displayed as an installation with manuscripts and sketches.
Angel's Share - it adopts an identical concept in Time Barrel. Oak, beech, and spirit are used.
Fleeting, Meeting and Parting - it portrays eight stages that the water goes through in the distillery in the form of geometric representation. The movement of sunlight is added to complete the paintings with projection.
Almost Everyday
Get into the Habit
It was quite easy to form a habit. The habit of waking up at sunrise. The habit of eating. The habit of feeling the wind, seeing the woods, and meeting up with the people. These habits unified us with nature.
The Everyday Walk
Things like making art could wait. I went out to take a walk. I would keep thinking during the walk anyway. I walked a little deeper into the woods. I could lie down to think in the woods. Why not taking a nap on the meadow? Maybe I would be inspired by my dreams.
I walked every single day and could not get any Internet signal all the time.
Starting working
Because it was too simple, I started to waste my time on finding time. Although my body was calm, my mind was busy trying to search for meanings. It was not until after I fell asleep on the meadow, I became realized that this simplicity was actually a luxury.
Wait Until Sunset
The sun rose at five o'clock. Sitting in the living room and looking out the window, there was a lake across the road. The scent of whisky floated into the house. It came and went at a six-hour interval. I guessed it was about six hours. No. It never stopped. Sunset. I almost believed that life could be as simple as this.
My time in Scotland was filled with a myriad of things; mountains with yellow flowers, rocks covered in green moss, cars under snow, fields surrounded by woods, bonfire red, rusted casks, distillery copper, gray clay in clear water. Everything is mixed together. I woke up at five o'clock in the morning every day. Alone in the house. About six, the scent of distilled wine floated in. I was still reluctant to get up from the warmth. Swarms of birds flied at about seven, then, dogs barked and cows lowed. Sounds began to mix. One day, I walked towards the source of the spring. I climbed two hills and arrived at a small hill where the land sunk a little. It was surrounded by trees. I lay down and just stared into the sky. I closed my eyes, trying to remember every day of my life. Three years old, thirteen, thirty, three days ago, today... Images fleeted through my mind. I could not tell when they became registered in my mind, and started to feel really sentimental. Several hours passed. Suddenly, it began to pour. I did not open my eyes. The rain fell on the grass, tree leaves, rocks, soil, and my body. I tried very hard to listen. Each drop created a distinct sound.
It might as well be the whispering of life itself. It has never stopped.
After I returned to Taiwan, whenever it rained, I would remember the distinct sound of rain from that day; but it sounds a lot more like noise now. |
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