Aquella una de la madrugada caminé arrastrando mis maletas atravesando calles calladas cuyo silencio fue interrumpido intermitentemente por el salto un un gato o la música que salió de una ventana por encima de la cabeza.
En un intento de recordar los nombre de aquellas calles, las busco por el Google Maps. Amplio el mapa y lo vuelvo a ampliar hasta que sin previo aviso sale una foto mostrando la puerta de la residencia. Y se me humedecen los ojos.
25 February 2012
05 January 2012
映在牆上的影子
新北投捷運車廂緩緩地駛向月台，透過貼著點狀圖形的窗戶及車門，我依稀可以辨識出門後站著的人影以及類似木製洗澡桶的圓形狀裝置。列車雖然只有幾節，但這真是一列裡外色彩豐富的車廂。那圓形狀玩意兒結果是個螢幕，我想大概是在介紹新北投的景點，而且可能也因為這緣故所以列車開的特別慢，讓我們可以慢慢欣賞兩邊的老舊公寓以及它們的舊日容光。
約莫兩個小時之後，我再次等車進站，午後原本冷清的月台現在擠滿了下班族和討人厭的國高中生以及他們有關手機的討論。拯救我逃離煉獄的特快車不疾不徐地在鐵道上拖行。於車門開啟的同時，返家心切的人潮好比如獅子看到獵物搬飛撲上去。一直困惑我的是，為什麼人們不等車廂裡的人先出來然後再進去呢？這疑問已在我心中駐足了快十年。某次在電梯裡一位中年男子因為湧進的浪潮太過洶湧，導致他勇敢踏出的右腳在有機會落地之前就被擠的潰不成軍，最後只好發出無奈的怒吼：「讓我先出去！」
我坐定位之後發現對面原本應該是椅子和窗戶的地方現在有一面大約56吋的液晶螢幕，而窗戶則被畫有圖案的牆面所取代，要凸顯的重點顯然是液晶螢幕裡氣定神閒地在寺廟拜拜、拍照和逛新北投的妙齡少女。在這「新北投-北投」一站的距離裡，影片總共撥了兩次，這顯然是要讓旅客有機會可以好好地欣賞並記下少女所拜訪的優聖美地。而我也的確為這設計所動容，在離螢幕約兩公尺的距離裡彩色牆面佔據了雙眼的視線範圍，帶觀眾進入另一個空間，成功地把地獄來的國高中生們打入邊緣的角色。
我回神過來，猛然發現我在移動的車廂裡盯著一個螢幕看。我頭左右轉，迅速地巡視一下四周，發現除了我之外沒有人在注意影片中精彩的劇情，每個人都低頭在看手機。我忽然有一種感覺 - 一種活生生的感覺 - 如果牆面瞬間崩解、消失，然後我發現我站在蕭瑟的海灘上跟外星人握手，我大概也不會覺得太訝異。
約莫兩個小時之後，我再次等車進站，午後原本冷清的月台現在擠滿了下班族和討人厭的國高中生以及他們有關手機的討論。拯救我逃離煉獄的特快車不疾不徐地在鐵道上拖行。於車門開啟的同時，返家心切的人潮好比如獅子看到獵物搬飛撲上去。一直困惑我的是，為什麼人們不等車廂裡的人先出來然後再進去呢？這疑問已在我心中駐足了快十年。某次在電梯裡一位中年男子因為湧進的浪潮太過洶湧，導致他勇敢踏出的右腳在有機會落地之前就被擠的潰不成軍，最後只好發出無奈的怒吼：「讓我先出去！」
我坐定位之後發現對面原本應該是椅子和窗戶的地方現在有一面大約56吋的液晶螢幕，而窗戶則被畫有圖案的牆面所取代，要凸顯的重點顯然是液晶螢幕裡氣定神閒地在寺廟拜拜、拍照和逛新北投的妙齡少女。在這「新北投-北投」一站的距離裡，影片總共撥了兩次，這顯然是要讓旅客有機會可以好好地欣賞並記下少女所拜訪的優聖美地。而我也的確為這設計所動容，在離螢幕約兩公尺的距離裡彩色牆面佔據了雙眼的視線範圍，帶觀眾進入另一個空間，成功地把地獄來的國高中生們打入邊緣的角色。
我回神過來，猛然發現我在移動的車廂裡盯著一個螢幕看。我頭左右轉，迅速地巡視一下四周，發現除了我之外沒有人在注意影片中精彩的劇情，每個人都低頭在看手機。我忽然有一種感覺 - 一種活生生的感覺 - 如果牆面瞬間崩解、消失，然後我發現我站在蕭瑟的海灘上跟外星人握手，我大概也不會覺得太訝異。
01 January 2012
Consistency
I saw the ceiling darkened by the advance of the hours and, when the irises got used to the gloom, the faint glow printed on it by the streetlamp through the drawn curtains. It's as if I've been staring at ceilings my whole life while thinking about nothing in particular. Most often I found my thoughts drifting from one trail to the other, then on to something else, and later it would find its way back to the starting point. This process would go on like automation till thoughts gave way to slumber.
As I lay there on the bed in my friends' house I had a sudden feeling that my life reflects my thoughts in form - drifting from one place to the other familiarizing with and specialising in none. Where am I going and what to do next? In my case the latter conditions the former, yet it was the former that sets the goal for the latter. However, under close scrutiny it should be better described as both happening at the same time.
I have the rather unrealistic dream to write and publish travelogues, think of Paul Theroux or Michael Asher (British writer and desert explorer). Problem is, I couldn't figure out ways to get there. Two big reasons (or excuses if you insist) being: 1) domestic expectation (read: pressure) to establish a "stable career" and then a family of my own consisting of me, my wife and my children. Flagrant foul of which would result in great domestic disturbance bordering on the edge of a crusade against the offender. 2) doubt and fear of stepping into professionally unknown field at an age when your friends are happily making kids and big bucks at work. The resulting disorientation is great.
This dreadful state forces me to think quickly for even if my family should stop talking about it I couldn't drive it out of my mind. It has successfully taken over woman as my leading preoccupation. As a matter of fact, the idea of a girlfriend might even seem a bit unthinkable. These days I dedicate my time between soaking in photography and trying to figure out my career (and some other meaningless activities like staring into the ceiling), this may sound productive, but it is constantly interrupted by the inconsistency of my thoughts which has led me to my own wretchedness.
As I lay there on the bed in my friends' house I had a sudden feeling that my life reflects my thoughts in form - drifting from one place to the other familiarizing with and specialising in none. Where am I going and what to do next? In my case the latter conditions the former, yet it was the former that sets the goal for the latter. However, under close scrutiny it should be better described as both happening at the same time.
I have the rather unrealistic dream to write and publish travelogues, think of Paul Theroux or Michael Asher (British writer and desert explorer). Problem is, I couldn't figure out ways to get there. Two big reasons (or excuses if you insist) being: 1) domestic expectation (read: pressure) to establish a "stable career" and then a family of my own consisting of me, my wife and my children. Flagrant foul of which would result in great domestic disturbance bordering on the edge of a crusade against the offender. 2) doubt and fear of stepping into professionally unknown field at an age when your friends are happily making kids and big bucks at work. The resulting disorientation is great.
This dreadful state forces me to think quickly for even if my family should stop talking about it I couldn't drive it out of my mind. It has successfully taken over woman as my leading preoccupation. As a matter of fact, the idea of a girlfriend might even seem a bit unthinkable. These days I dedicate my time between soaking in photography and trying to figure out my career (and some other meaningless activities like staring into the ceiling), this may sound productive, but it is constantly interrupted by the inconsistency of my thoughts which has led me to my own wretchedness.
28 December 2011
Skyscrapers
My on-going journey through photography has landed me in medium format land. Taken with Rolleicord III, Kodak 400TX.
19 November 2011
11 November 2011
30 May 2011
The Virtue of Writing
Too much convenience is bad for your health, while in modern society it's just all too convenient. I gave up on digital cameras because they leave no room for imagination, we use them precisely because they provide us with instant feedback at no additional cost. So I turned to film photography about 2 years ago and contrary to what people prophesied I'm still using my film camera, and most importantly, I finally find joy in it which digital failed to provide me with.
For the past 2 years I've somehow lost the habit of writing, something which I valued greatly for it served as a means of reflection and intimate friend that I don't have in real life. It was replaced by Facebook, I now have most of my friends up there, having access to their latest updates with the click of a mouse, yet the hole in me's grown bigger. I realized that Facebook is not the answer to my plight, and that I need to go back to my old practises.
I was surprised by Esther's remarks the other day telling me that when a friend asked her what would she like to read in English on a regular basis, the first image surfaced was the blog Old Magazine. I didn't know I had another reader apart from the toastman (haha)! Her letter was a reminder to what I enjoyed doing. I've been looking in the wrong direction for salvation, I should get back to writing and release my ghosts here.
For the past 2 years I've somehow lost the habit of writing, something which I valued greatly for it served as a means of reflection and intimate friend that I don't have in real life. It was replaced by Facebook, I now have most of my friends up there, having access to their latest updates with the click of a mouse, yet the hole in me's grown bigger. I realized that Facebook is not the answer to my plight, and that I need to go back to my old practises.
I was surprised by Esther's remarks the other day telling me that when a friend asked her what would she like to read in English on a regular basis, the first image surfaced was the blog Old Magazine. I didn't know I had another reader apart from the toastman (haha)! Her letter was a reminder to what I enjoyed doing. I've been looking in the wrong direction for salvation, I should get back to writing and release my ghosts here.
07 March 2011
回憶與流亡
昨晚於餐後的茶點時短暫聊及Mecano（或是 Amaia Montero？忘了）以及回憶。回憶的特性就是即便你以為已經遺忘它了，在特定媒介的刺激下，它（們）會憑空出現，而當這發生時你陷入一種迷流的狀態。這並不是指進入跟現實切斷連結的恍惚狀態。薩伊德在談論流亡時提供了類似的敘述：「對大多數流亡者來說，…家鄉其實並非那麼遙遠，[但是]當代生活的交通使你對故鄉一直可望不可即。因此，流亡者存在於一種中間狀態，既非完全與新環境合一，也未完全與舊環境分離，而是處於若即若離的困境…」（知識分子論）
當消失的回憶縈繞在心頭時你陷入的就是這若即若離的困境，這是個無解的狀況，因為過去的某一狀態已經停止存在，但是記憶它的記憶卻是存在的。你一點辦法也沒有讓它完整重現，你只能以文字或是其他替代方案讓它發生於指定的媒介上。薩伊德接著說：「有一種風行但完全錯誤的觀念：流亡是被完全切斷，孤立無望地與原鄉之分離，但願那種外科手術式、一刀兩斷的劃分方式是真的，因為這麼一來你知道遺留在後的就某個意義而言是不可想像、完全無法回復的。這種認知至少可以提供些許的慰藉。」
不同的是，對回憶而言，知道它是「完全無法回復的」並不會替你帶來多大的慰藉。這並不是說回憶是負面的，不能帶來慰藉指的純粹只是一種因為無法重現已經消逝於過去某一點人事物的狀態的強烈失落感。在追憶似水年華裡普魯斯特為回憶的優點提供了一段很好的形容："...memory, not yet of the place in which I was, but of various other places where I had lived, and might now very possibly be, would come like a rope let down from heaven to draw me up out of the abyss of not-being, from which I could never have escaped by myself..."。
回憶本身不包含善惡的概念，它充其量只不過是個善變的東西，隨你起舞 -但同時也控制著它的主人。這主從的關係並沒有清楚的界線，有時你可以削減它的氣燄，但更多時候是它對你頤氣指使。然而，普魯斯特指出回憶也會以救世主之姿把你從虛空之中解救出來。假如普魯斯特所言不假，那麼回憶就同時具有使迷幻以及使清醒的作用。此一強大能力的存在到底是好是壞並沒有辦法下定斷 -也許尋找結論是多餘的-，但可以知道的是在很多情況下這兩種作用同時在進行著，而這又把我們帶回了流亡上。對流亡者而言，回鄉的強烈慾望一直驅使著他向前進，但也同時不停地折磨他。這回應了薩伊德所言：「流亡就是無休無止，東奔西走，一直未能安定下來...無法回到某個更早、也許更穩定的安適自在的狀態；而且，可悲的是，永遠無法完全抵達，永遠無法與新家或新情境合而為一。」
當消失的回憶縈繞在心頭時你陷入的就是這若即若離的困境，這是個無解的狀況，因為過去的某一狀態已經停止存在，但是記憶它的記憶卻是存在的。你一點辦法也沒有讓它完整重現，你只能以文字或是其他替代方案讓它發生於指定的媒介上。薩伊德接著說：「有一種風行但完全錯誤的觀念：流亡是被完全切斷，孤立無望地與原鄉之分離，但願那種外科手術式、一刀兩斷的劃分方式是真的，因為這麼一來你知道遺留在後的就某個意義而言是不可想像、完全無法回復的。這種認知至少可以提供些許的慰藉。」
不同的是，對回憶而言，知道它是「完全無法回復的」並不會替你帶來多大的慰藉。這並不是說回憶是負面的，不能帶來慰藉指的純粹只是一種因為無法重現已經消逝於過去某一點人事物的狀態的強烈失落感。在追憶似水年華裡普魯斯特為回憶的優點提供了一段很好的形容："...memory, not yet of the place in which I was, but of various other places where I had lived, and might now very possibly be, would come like a rope let down from heaven to draw me up out of the abyss of not-being, from which I could never have escaped by myself..."。
回憶本身不包含善惡的概念，它充其量只不過是個善變的東西，隨你起舞 -但同時也控制著它的主人。這主從的關係並沒有清楚的界線，有時你可以削減它的氣燄，但更多時候是它對你頤氣指使。然而，普魯斯特指出回憶也會以救世主之姿把你從虛空之中解救出來。假如普魯斯特所言不假，那麼回憶就同時具有使迷幻以及使清醒的作用。此一強大能力的存在到底是好是壞並沒有辦法下定斷 -也許尋找結論是多餘的-，但可以知道的是在很多情況下這兩種作用同時在進行著，而這又把我們帶回了流亡上。對流亡者而言，回鄉的強烈慾望一直驅使著他向前進，但也同時不停地折磨他。這回應了薩伊德所言：「流亡就是無休無止，東奔西走，一直未能安定下來...無法回到某個更早、也許更穩定的安適自在的狀態；而且，可悲的是，永遠無法完全抵達，永遠無法與新家或新情境合而為一。」
13 April 2010
On the Back of a Pickup Truck
Memory is a capricious thing. I've lost count of the times I've said that, and I just can't stop myself from pronouncing it once more. It's only been 5 months since I came back, but Nicaragua feels so far away from me, it's a goddamn lie that when you miss someone or something, they'll feel closer. Well, they don't, they only appear distant and of another time, something that exist only in the yellowed pictures that you have between your feeble fingers trembling with age and nostalgia, saddened by the thought that you might not see them again nor can you step on the familiar soil.
Time makes it appear unreal even though you have every physical items to prove its existence in time. It just slipped away from your fingers without notice. Well, you were aware of it all the time, but it escaped anyway. You thought photos, music, movies, all sorts of papers and stuff were going to do the trick and save those days. They don't. They don't deliver, but only serve as means to access your memory - which is capricious - and you knew that, nevertheless you still don't give up.
You think about the first time you saw her - beautiful dark face, large round earrings and lovely eyes; the empty street of Granada at sleep - the thought of this triggers you to open the map and retrace the streets you'd walked with her, the bars and her room; you think about Waslala, the chaotic scene, and the little girl sitting next to you peeking at you through her mother's arms, giggling when you caught her sneaking a look at you, and her saying goodbye with her smiling eyes; you think about your mate yelling "I hate China!" to the homeless kids wandering the streets of Managua on the back of a pickup truck... You think about a million things that's long gone.
And goddamnit, these thoughts forced you to crawl out of your bed, turn on the light and sit in front of your computer to write these down at 3 o'clock in the morning. You'd always thought that nostalgia hits only when you're unhappy, what you never expected was that it strikes as well when you're in good spirits. Mood doesn't seem to play a crucial role in revoking the past. Fuck, it's overwhelming, I need to lie down and see if it'll go away so I don't keep wandering in the days gone by thinking about them and wondering about their fate.
Time makes it appear unreal even though you have every physical items to prove its existence in time. It just slipped away from your fingers without notice. Well, you were aware of it all the time, but it escaped anyway. You thought photos, music, movies, all sorts of papers and stuff were going to do the trick and save those days. They don't. They don't deliver, but only serve as means to access your memory - which is capricious - and you knew that, nevertheless you still don't give up.
You think about the first time you saw her - beautiful dark face, large round earrings and lovely eyes; the empty street of Granada at sleep - the thought of this triggers you to open the map and retrace the streets you'd walked with her, the bars and her room; you think about Waslala, the chaotic scene, and the little girl sitting next to you peeking at you through her mother's arms, giggling when you caught her sneaking a look at you, and her saying goodbye with her smiling eyes; you think about your mate yelling "I hate China!" to the homeless kids wandering the streets of Managua on the back of a pickup truck... You think about a million things that's long gone.
And goddamnit, these thoughts forced you to crawl out of your bed, turn on the light and sit in front of your computer to write these down at 3 o'clock in the morning. You'd always thought that nostalgia hits only when you're unhappy, what you never expected was that it strikes as well when you're in good spirits. Mood doesn't seem to play a crucial role in revoking the past. Fuck, it's overwhelming, I need to lie down and see if it'll go away so I don't keep wandering in the days gone by thinking about them and wondering about their fate.
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