text by Roan Ching-Yue
Last week I went to Makung City, Penghu with Shun-chu Chen and A in order to realize a collective project relating to Shun-chu’s hometown. We had already talked over this project for a while and we decided to go to Makung without planning. I guessed all three of us were very excited and yet much look forward to this.
Upon arrival, it was already at dark night. The seafood restaurant Shun-chu planned to take us there was closed. We ended up have dinner at another restaurant cross street. Then we walked through main street and hanged around the harbor together. At that time, the sea breeze was strong and cold, we all felt the chill and thus our conversations became quite not focused and weird. We then went to a bar for drinks and got another two bottles of red wine at convenient store. We return to hotel and sat on floor chatting. Later we had arguments unexpectedly, A took luggage and left.
Next day only I and Shun-chu stayed. We both knew the planning project was gone and thus we had such weird mood. Shun-chu then drove me around to see Makung island. This is my first trip to Penghu. The lonely and yet desolate aesthetic scene didn’t disappoint my assumption. I also began to have different feeling and view on Shun-chu’s artworks and the interesting connection from how he looked the outside world from his home and Penghu at his childhood to later on his review on the home in memory with artworks.
Shun-chu’s artworks come from personal family photos, which is quite interesting and peculiar. Such ordinary family photos that almost everyone will have one or two usually don’t cause other’s curiosity. Because those photos, either took in scenic areas as souvenirs or just randomly shot in daily life ( Shun-chu calls it as “random life snapshot”), are probably like what Roland Barthes (1915-1980) said in La chambre claire, note sur la photographie (1980):
But when facing countless photos, including those with excellent studium, I don’t sense any blink zones: everything happening inside the frame, so long as they entered the frame, is absolutely gone. Photography is defined as motionless image not because those human figures could not move any more, but the fact they won’t come out again. They are like anesthetized, pinpointed, like the specimen of butterfly.
Against the fateful character of “anesthetized and pinpointed like the specimen of butterfly” in most family photos, Barthes mentioned the concept of blind zone (champ aveugle, referring to the invisible viewing angle from camera lens), which he thought as truly dominant. Barthes said that the essence of image depends on the appearance. It cannot be hided while it is more unreachable and yet mystique than our inner thoughts; It might have no meaning at all and somehow it calls up all potential in-depth metaphors; it doesn’t show and it also declare at the same time. It could be there as well as be nowhere: just like the seduction and charm of Le Chant des Sirenes.
A blind zone like this is closely associated with mystery. As to mystery, I would like quote from what Christian mysticism philosopher Simone Weil (1909-1943) said in Attente de Dieu:
Sometime, the first few chants already guide my thoughts out of my physical body and take it to somewhere out of the known space. Looking from there, what you see is only profound boundlessness. The space is open wide. The sensual and common spacey infinity is replaced by the second or sometimes third level infinity. Simultaneously, among such infinite infinity, what exists is purely quietness. Such quietness is never soundless but much more aggressive than usual sonic feeling. If we have to say there is any kind of this sound, it only reaches me after it trespasses this kind of quietness.
To some extent, Shun-chu’s artworks also reveal certain intended research to some “infinite silence.” Through the butterfly sample-like family photos, he seemingly traces some mysterious messages. Such messages could be the home of our life origins, or something behind the home. It has dialogue with us via a way what Weil described as “A sound only trespassing such quietness to reach me.”
Furthermore, a good piece of artwork would produce duplicate-tone/context sound. In other words, other than the first layer/level of voice, it will have the second or third layer/level of voice. Those voices/sounds often surpass the creator’s plan and are very hard to hear. It could be what Weil said as “the second or third level of infinity,” which is mystique messages. Such mystery born from duplicate tone, can be best described as M.M. Bakhtin (1895-1975), who described works by Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky (1821-1881) as “duplicate context/tone,” “With many individual and yet unharmonized voices and conscious while different voices of full values consist of real duplicate tone – this is indeed the characters of Dostoevsky’s novels. In his novels, it is not many personalities and fates form a united objective world under the author’s consistent conscious; rather, it is more likely that consciousness sharing equal position together with their individual worlds to be connected under one united event and they are not harmonized with each other at all.”
It is a debate seeking for balance between unity and diversity, singular and complex. In Shun-chu’s artworks, the objective images and subjective memory voice for themselves separately. The two voices compete for speaking out. Which linguistic power memory belongs to? Which one is more reliable: image documentation or personal memory? All are very interesting observations. Basically, such interfering of diversifying gives the unavoidably “butterfly-sample-like” family photos new possibility of conversation. It also unlocks single memory carrier to become possible collective life metaphors which are meaningful to others. For instance, the way he used personal memorial fragments as subjective interfering, or diverse-tone approach of mixed media or installation art, all depict the inaccurate speech nature of contrast/confront, as well as imply possible diverse speech in duplicate tone.
Regarding this, Bakhtin quoted what Russian litterateur Vasily Grossman (1905-1964) described Dostoevsky’s novels: the fundamental principle regarding the structure of his novels is like this: making opposing elements of description complied with unified philosophical conception and hurricane-like incidents….The convention aesthetic tradition always requires the consistency between materials and writing style. It requires a unifying of all structural elements inside a novel, at least of the same kind or similarity. Dostoevsky broke all the conventional rules and integrated all opposing interfaces….His mission is to resolve one of the most challenges for an artist: create a solid and unified artwork with materials of huge contrast, different nature and values.
For Chen, memory is like a labyrinth which is never-resolved and yet no need to resolve. Memory has a duplicate-tone nature and it possesses mysterious blink zone where one can return to from time to time and receive different messages for each return. This is also one of the most unique charms implied by Chen’s series works: memory can be reached constantly and its labyrinth-like routes lead different landscapes for each returning trip. This is also because of the relation between the the Flaneur and wandering exclusively depicted and practiced by Walter Benjamin (1892-1940). Each good piece is always the beginning of wandering, waiting for the flaneur’s entrance.
The Makung trip I spent with Shun-chu was terminated hastily for just one day. Now when I recalled it, I only have few clear and yet vogue impression. Sometimes it is difficult to tell the truth or false of my memory. This is also the most appealing part of traveling: such fragments which protect us from see it all provide limitless imaginary possibilities in our memory. |
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