top of page

禮物與塵埃        楊甯
 
   美國小說家歐．亨利（O.Henry，1862-1910）在他著名的短篇小說《麥琪的禮物》（The Gift of the Magi）裡，描述了一對貧窮的小夫妻在聖誕節來臨的時候，不約而同為對方精心準備了一件不尋常的禮物。丈夫為了給妻子的美髮配上一套玳瑁髮梳，賣了自己祖傳三代的金錶，而妻子則為了丈夫的金錶用自己的美髮去換了一條白金錶鏈。當他們互贈禮物時，才發現兩人珍貴的禮物都變成了無用的東西，就在物質意義瞬間崩解的剎那，那甘願為對方犧牲的愛，翻轉了幾乎要成為悲劇的場面。於是，不論是能與希巴皇后的珠寶相媲美的頭髮，還是足以讓所羅門王嫉妒的祖傳金錶，似乎都脫離了物質本身所代表的價值，得到精神上的延伸與轉換。失落仍然很強烈，但與狂喜是交織的。
 
    物質一旦經過生命的碰觸，就無法避免地被迫擁有另一種意義。如同禮物從來就不只是物質。從王亮尹早期那些肖像式的消溶甜點畫，到2014年台北美術館「親愛的，生日快樂」個展，那些在集體歡騰中突然被清醒擊中的疏離人物，都不約而同地指向同一種狀態：人同時參與著兩種對立的生活。以一種欲拒還迎的姿態，遊蕩於無法遏止的幻想與不能迴避的現實之間。人在此處，心卻指向他方。這種雙重性與矛盾性一直是王亮尹的繪畫令人玩味的地方，其中最容易指認的標誌，大概就是她大膽的冷暖色並置，與層層疊疊的交融筆觸了。從視覺表象看來，她似乎一直耽溺於回憶中感官的享樂，甚至有戀物的傾向。她筆下的物質從來都不曾喪失具體的外貌，只不過是在層層疊疊的色彩中，逐漸偏離了物質本身的原始意義，而最後交織成的圖像，成為招喚觀者穿越時空探索自己慾望靈魂的一扇窗。用將醒的夢境來形容或許最容易理解，人會從惡夢中驚醒，而美夢很難延續，但現實生活則會繼續，這就是人渺小而無力的地方。夢境與現實從來都是相互滲透的，而精神與物質看似對立，但就是無法保持各自的純粹，它們是相互交融、相互影響而無法分離的。現實與想像的落差當然是王亮尹在意的，但更吸引她的，恐怕是那模糊的邊界，而邊界永遠在推移，有更多未知在等待揭示。這大概就是為何王亮尹的作品總是時而迷醉，時而凜然的原因。
 
    法國社會學家馬賽爾．莫斯（Marcel Mauss，1872-1950）在他的著作《禮物》（Essai sur le don，1924）中，特別點出禮物混融（Mélange）的特質：「人們將靈魂融於事物，亦將事物融於靈魂。人們的生活彼此相融，在此其間本來已經被混同的人和物又走出各自的圈子再相互混融。」[1]一個禮物，就是一種個人或集體的自願行為。餽贈禮物給某人，即是呈現某種自我。而接受他人的某物，就是接受了他者的某些精神本質，接受了他的一部分靈魂。物質上、道德上、精神上都來自另一個人。餽贈與接受，涵蓋著人與物、人與人、個體與集體、集體與集體、精神與物質、當下與未來（因禮物所引發的期待），這就是混融。是一種多面向的連結，進而交織出整個社會。由此來看，一直著迷於混融的王亮尹會選擇禮物這個物件毫不令人意外，但我想真正令她糾結的，應該還是想像、象徵與真實之間的關係。人與人之間那種微妙的精神想像，存在於戀人、朋友、或是親人之間，透過禮物這個象徵符號，投射了需求（欲望）與期待。因為事物不會自己移動，更不會沒有理由的移動。所以，與其說事物在人與人之間流動，倒不如說是訊息來回被傳遞。想像在種種社會關係中被“物質化”後，成為社會現實的一部分。[2]
 
    而戀物的性格、以層疊交融的手法來達到情感的釋放從來就不是畫家的專屬，諾貝爾獎得主、土耳其當代著名小說家帕慕克（Orhan Pamuk，1952-）就是箇中好手。他也是一個總是從物質出發的創作者，而他作品中細密的繪畫性也不斷被人提及，他自己也承認曾經很長一段時間裡醉心於繪畫。在他2008年發表的長篇小說《純真博物館》（Masumiyet Muzesi）裡，主角因為失去戀人，瘋狂的搜集戀人所碰觸過的所有物件，全是一些瑣碎的尋常之物：鹽瓶、小狗擺設、頂針、筆、髮夾、煙灰缸、耳墜、紙牌、鑰匙、扇子、香水瓶、手帕、胸針……還有4213個戀人抽過的菸頭，標誌著與戀人共度的時光與她捻熄香菸時不同的姿態與心情。在這邊我們可以注意的是，這些物質絕對不僅是物質，這些是特定的時間座標，更是情感的證物，而在作者層層的編織與描繪之下，非常私人的執念卻折射出整個時代與城市的生活面貌。這種連結與輻射往往是有機的、擴散的、不可計劃的，也無法全然控制，當事者只能誠實地跟著感受流動。詢問王亮尹，她如何控制那些複雜的顏色交疊，得到的答案也非常接近這種狀態。她最多就是選擇特定的物件，然後準備好，跟著腦中的化學物質在畫面上反覆移動。而她偏好清醒恍惚的邊緣、火花熄滅的瞬間，盛宴的殘餘與特別屬於某些特殊時刻（例如生日或節日）的擺設或裝飾，都有很鮮明的時間指涉，而層層疊疊就是一種提醒、更是一種穿越時空的手法，告訴你，這一切只是累積的表象，然後身為觀眾的我們便警醒過來：那表象的後面是？我們在觀看的，是想像、象徵、還是真實？
 
    有趣的是在帕慕克筆下主角的回憶裡，「灰塵」與「舊物」，總是不斷的出現，特別是在他描繪那間與戀人秘密偷情的房間時。當初主角跟母親要了這間閒置大樓房間的鑰匙，出發點是為了滿足自己偷情的慾望，而不知情的母親則說：「那裡滿是灰塵。」灰塵就是這樣的東西，當下是令人不快的干擾，更有幻滅的意味，但卻是日後招喚回憶與祕密的重要魔法，應是髒污無用的物質轉身一變成為渲染隱密的神奇元素。王亮尹的禮物（全是舊物）與塵埃並置絕對不是巧合，而是身為易感的創作者，對於事物兩重性的不可抗拒。塵埃不一定是醜惡，禮物也不全然是祝福（想想歐．亨利小說裡那因買不起禮物而焦急的心和深怕辜負對方的心理重負）。時間與色彩的斑駁，個人隱私的秘密，回憶的長廊充滿斷裂與迂迴，背景掩蓋的是現實的混亂狂暴，看似甜美的夢境夾雜著緊張與不穩定，令人忍不住要再借用一次純真博物館裡的句子：「人生，對多數人來說，不是一種應該真誠去體驗的幸福，而是在一個由各種壓力、懲罰和必須去相信的謊言構成的狹窄空間裡，不斷去扮演一個角色的狀態。」[3]看看王亮尹那困在音樂盒中的跳舞小丑，與雪人相伴、卻用狐狸外套遮臉的小孩，戴著動物帽狂舞、或用氣球遮掩的身影。雖然王亮尹一再強調，她並不在意自己作品裡的故事性，但故事卻藉著她所描繪的物質如影隨形。就如同人與社會的關係：「儘管我沒有選擇它，但我是它的一部分。」人與社會的溝通，常常意味著某種“斷裂”，但同時也是對於原有連續性的突破。[4]王亮尹藉著繪畫，吟遊物質與精神的海，讓彼此分裂的譫妄，在另一個時空以一種神秘而難以言說的面貌重新連結。
 
 
 
[1]見莫斯（Mauss Marcel），《禮物》（The Gift），1990。
[2]見莫里斯．古德利爾（Maurice Godelier），《禮物之謎》（L’Énigme du don），1996。
[3]見帕慕克（Orhan Pamuk），《純真博物館》（Masumiyet Muzesi），2009。
[4]見艾彌爾．涂爾幹（Émile Durkheim），《宗教生活的基本形式》（Les Formes élémentaires de la vie religieuse），1912。

Gifts and Dust        Yang Ning

 

In his The Gift of the Magi, American short story writer O. Henry (1862 – 1910) describes a poor couple, who unbeknownst to each other go to great lengths to prepare special gifts as Christmas is approaching. The husband, in order to buy his wife a set of tortoiseshell combs for her beautiful hair, sells his gold watch that has been passed down for three generations. The wife trades her beautiful hair for a platinum watch chain intended for her husband. On Christmas Day, at the moment when they realize that their precious gifts have become useless objects and the significance of these objects collapses, the love that prompted their sacrifices in the first place turns the impending tragedy around. It can be seen from this story that even hair that compares to the Queen of Sheba's jewels, and a watch that would make King Solomon jealous can shed their material value and be spiritually transformed. The loss is still intense, but is mixed with ecstasy.

 

Once material is touched by life, it is forced to take on another meaning, such as a gift, which is never merely an object. InWang Liang-Yin'searly portrait-like paintings of melting desserts, and her 2014 solo exhibitionHappy Birthday, My Dearat the Taipei Fine Arts Museum, those estranged characters suddenly shaken awake in the midst of celebration, and invariably speak of the same condition: everyone is simultaneously engaged in two opposing lives. Wanting to refuse but with a welcoming air, we wander between uncontrollable fantasy and unavoidable reality. The person is here, but his or her mind points to the other side. Duality and conflict are what we ponder in Wang's paintings, and their most recognizable manifestations are her bold juxtaposition of warm and cool colors, and layers of melting paint. Her visual representations suggest she indulges in memories of sensory pleasure, or is even inclined to fetishize objects. Under her brushwork, objects never lose their concrete associations, but under so many layers of paint, tend to lose their original intrinsic significance. Ultimately, these layers intermingle to become windows that beckon viewers to travel in time and space in search of their souls' desire. Perhaps using the liminal state between waking and a dream will make this easier to understand: people wake suddenly from a nightmare, but the good dream is difficult to continue. Real life, on the other hand, is always present, which makes us feel small and weak. Dreams and reality always mix, and spirit and material seem to be in opposition, but as for maintaining their purity, they blend and influence each other and cannot stay separate. The divide between reality and imagination is of course something that Wang cares about, but blurred edges, moving edges, and unknowns that are waiting to be revealed are her true interests. This is probably why her work is sometimes bewitching, and sometimes very stern.

 

 In his book The Gift, the French sociologist Marcel Mauss (1872 – 1950) raised the notion of mélange:“Souls are mixed with things; things with souls. Lives are mingled together, and this is how, among persons and things so intermingled, each emerges from their own sphere and mixes together.” (1)Gifting is a voluntary action by an individual or group. Presenting a gift to someone presents the self. Accepting something from someone is to accept a part of his or her soul or essential spirit. Thus, physical material, morals, and spirit all come from that other person. Giving and receiving happens between a person and an object, a person and person, an individual and group, a group and group, spirit and material, and the present and the future (because gifts create expectation). This is mélange. It is the multifaceted connection that creates the fabric of society. From this perspective, the fact that Wang, who has always been fascinated with mélange,chose the gift as subject matter, is completely unsurprising. But I think what really intrigue her are the connections among imagination, symbols and reality, and the subtle spiritual thoughts between people, such as those that exist between lovers, friends, and family. Need (desire) and expectation are all projected through the symbolism of the gift. Because objects have no agency and really have no reason to move on their own, it seems more accurate to say that messages are transmitted through gifting, rather than to say an object is passing between people. After imagination has been reified in all kinds of societal relationships, it becomes an aspect of social reality. (2)

 

But employing the nature of fetish and mélangeto attain emotional release is not the exclusive province of the painter. The famous Nobel Prize winning Turkish novelist Orhan Pamuk (b. 1952) is one such master. He is an author who always starts out from material substance, and the detailed painterly depictions in his books are often noted. And, indeed, he has admitted to a long-term infatuated with painting. In his 2008 novel The Museum of Innocence, the protagonist goes into a frenzy after losing his lover, and collects everything she has touched, including such trivial things as a salt shaker, dog figurine, thimble, pen, hair clip, ashtray, earring, playing card, key, fan, perfume bottle, handkerchief, brooch, and 4,213 butts of cigarettes that she had smoked, which symbolize the time he spent with her, and her different moods and gestures while she was extinguishing each one. We notice here that these things are not merely things, but symbols of specific times and proof of certain feelings. In Pamuk's woven layers and depictions, his protagonist's extraordinary personal obsession reflects an entire era and the appearance of urban life. These associations and emanations are often organic, diffuse, unplanned, and impossible to completely control, and the person involved can only follow his or her perceptions. I asked Wang how she controls those complicated layers of color, and she answered with something very close to this state of following perceptions. She chooses something specific to paint, and when she is prepared, she makes repeated movements on the canvas with her brush following the chemical activity in her brain. She is partial to being on the edge of a conscious trance or in the moment when some excitement has passed, and paints the remnants of a feast or the decorations left over from some special event like a birthday or holiday. All these involve distinct moments, and her layering serves as a reminder of passing time or moving through space, and tells us that everything is just accumulated impressions. Then vigilance returns, and the viewer asks: What is behind those impressions? What are we looking at? Is it fantasy, a symbol, or reality?

 

It is interesting that Pamuk's protagonist continually recalls dust and old things specifically when he is describing the room in which he carried on his affair. Originally, he had asked his mother for the key to the empty room so he could satisfy his desire to be with his lover. Unaware of his intentions, his mother answered, “It's full of dust.” Dust is just this kind of thing; it is an annoying impediment and suggests disillusionment, but later spurs recollections of enchanting secrets. What should be a useless and dirty thing at once becomes a magical element highlighting some personal mystery. It is no coincidence that Wang put gifts (they are all old things) together with dust, and as a sensitive artist, she cannot resist an object that suggests duality. Dust is not necessarily disgusting, and gifts are not always a blessing—just think of the anxiety about buying gifts one cannot afford, or the psychological burden of potentially disappointing the recipient in O. Henry's story. Time and mottled colors, personal secrets, circuitous recollections full of gaps, and backgrounds filled with reality's wild confusion all look like beautiful dreams squeezed between anxiety and instability. Looking at her paintings, I cannot help but borrow a few lines from The Museum of Innocence: “[...] for most people life was not a joy to be embraced with a full heart but a miserable charade to be endured with a false smile, a narrow path of lies, punishment, and repression.” (3)We see this in Wang's dancing clown confined to a music box, a child hiding her face behind a fox coat and accompanying a snowman, and a wildly dancing man wearing an animal skin hat or hiding behind balloons. Although Wang always emphasizes that she is not concerned with narrative in her paintings, stories seem to closely shadow the objects she depicts. Regarding the individual's relationship with society, she agrees that even though we didn't choose to be, we are still part of it. A gap between an individual and society usually implies some kind of breakdown, but can also be a break in the original continuity. (4) Wang wanders in both the material and spiritual worlds in her paintings, and deliriously shatters both. She then reunites them in a different time and place, and in a way that is mysterious and difficult to describe. 

​

​

 

  1. Mauss, Marcel. The Gift. Translated by W. D. Halls, Routledge, 1990.

  2. Godelier, Maurice. The Enigma of the Gift.1996.

  3. Pamuk, Orhan. The Museum of Innocence. Translation by Maureen Freely, Knopf, 2009.

  4. Durkheim, Émile. The Elementary Forms of the Religious Life. 1912. 

bottom of page