我有一個缺乏秩序的世界。這裡邏輯喪失功能，語言的意義只在於串聯每個細微但缺乏關係的事件，製造彼此間微不足道的一些關聯。很少人能夠進入，甚至理解這個幼稚到近乎奇怪的地方，能夠進來的人，大多會脫序的莫名笑得開心，就好像小孩子的時候那樣，不需任何理由。而我就好像是收費時段的兒童樂園，提供這種無須任何義務和負責的快樂服務，直到，要閉館的時候，我們赫然發現，這個世界畢竟是得靠所有的秩序和邏輯去支撐的一種存在，所以，該回家了，快樂的時光也就戞然而止。
February 20, 2010
Tripoli
Tripoli, by the Mediterranean.
對於過去我沒有記憶，也不知道未來會是什麼樣子。那個不認識現在我的我站在地中海旁某座飯店頂樓，那已經是29年前夏天的事了。沒有人知道為什麼，也不會有人記得發生了什麼。時間是一種不存在的消逝，對於未來，我們沒有意識，也不會知道，之後會遇到什麼，放棄什麼，為什麼開心，為什麼難過。更不會知道現在的我，因為抽煙，喝酒，很晚回家，而成為媽媽眼中極度墮落讓她顏面盡失的一種存在。當時會戴蒼蠅墨鏡，還有一點點腰身的媽媽，也只有在80年代短暫的時髦一陣子而已。時間進到第2000個10年代了，她說，我依舊像是29年前那個無法獨立自主，需要管教約束，缺乏行為能力的一種附件。可是，抽煙，喝酒，很晚回家，也不過就是抽煙，喝酒，很晚回家。時間也已經過了29年了，怎麼還是一樣的無可救藥。but you know i love you mom, that is the least thing i can say to make you feel happy....
對於過去我沒有記憶，也不知道未來會是什麼樣子。那個不認識現在我的我站在地中海旁某座飯店頂樓，那已經是29年前夏天的事了。沒有人知道為什麼，也不會有人記得發生了什麼。時間是一種不存在的消逝，對於未來，我們沒有意識，也不會知道，之後會遇到什麼，放棄什麼，為什麼開心，為什麼難過。更不會知道現在的我，因為抽煙，喝酒，很晚回家，而成為媽媽眼中極度墮落讓她顏面盡失的一種存在。當時會戴蒼蠅墨鏡，還有一點點腰身的媽媽，也只有在80年代短暫的時髦一陣子而已。時間進到第2000個10年代了，她說，我依舊像是29年前那個無法獨立自主，需要管教約束，缺乏行為能力的一種附件。可是，抽煙，喝酒，很晚回家，也不過就是抽煙，喝酒，很晚回家。時間也已經過了29年了，怎麼還是一樣的無可救藥。but you know i love you mom, that is the least thing i can say to make you feel happy....
我的五感對所有事情感到無感
該死的文藝腔該做個ending。這是一種複雜的感覺，在一個尷尬的時間下認識，只要一杯咖啡，出去走走，也不需特別要求些什麼，就能完成的簡單想法。你一直說話，大多時候我都沒說什麼，and time is running out。然後，事情開始複雜了起來，應該是貼傷口的舉動。天氣很好，有時天氣不好，也沒有什麼特別的要求，然後，時間到了。我跟你是截然兩個不同世界的人。我可以多喝幾罐啤酒，過好幾個月的苦悶生活，然後，慢慢忘記，日子還是要繼續下去，至少，還沒有自顧自地又投入到一整個灰頭土臉的地步。未來還長得很，我又在獨自空轉個什麼勁。
March 29, 2007
廢墟殘影 斑駁凋零 記憶氤氳
Christos Koukelis
Divine Light
廢墟殘影 斑駁凋零 記憶氤氳
Text by Ian Jeffrey.
Think of these pictures as metaphors. They refer to catastrophe, to ruination and to dereliction. Buildings have been abandoned, and their fittings smashed. More objectively, though, you might say that they deal with the aftermath of catastrophe, when things have had time to settle down. Survivors have removed the bulk of their goods, leaving only a few items for which there was no immediate need. These items, such as beds and chairs, have then been used by incomers.
We read pictures by looking at them. We take in depth, space and colour. We assimilate such properties in a picture, but we can also speak pictures into being. There is a wardrobe, for example, and there is a door, a bed frame and a mattress. There are two cushions, two chairs and a table. That must surely be a dish washing machine with its row of four knobs, dial and buttons. In some cases the debris is more complex, with shelving and toys scattered on the floor, but it is never chaotic – which is important. Christos Koukelis presents us with delimited interiors which it almost possible to comprehend at a glance.
The comprehension we use is domestic, or of the kind we are familiar with in a kitchen or in a bathroom. The pictures imply a rudimentary sort of counting or stock-taking: a slim radiator, for example, with four vertical bars, and another scene with around a dozen plastic crates and three wastepaper baskets, all of them too commonplace to be worth taking away. We can almost be at home in these pared down settings, for we are very used to table tops and to venetian blinds.
If catastrophe constitutes an obverse then the other side of the coin reminds us of domesticity with all its apparatus of tables, chairs and windows. Catastrophe and domesticity complement each other. Domesticity is what we take for granted in terms of routines and of home comforts. If that were all the pictures were about it would be quite enough for one viewing, and we always need to be reminded of the solaces of everyday living. But the photographer has a more metaphysical side. All those windows and doors, for example, may be part of normality, but within these shaded spaces they provide illumination and they also look like pictures or bright representations of another dimension. They suggest another world imbued with light, quite distinct from the damaged here and now in which we presently exist.
The present described here is laborious. It is a context in which we need rest and refreshment, warmth and comfort - or so the iconography seems to indicate. There are some fine hearths, which are a pointer to conviviality and to the need for warmth. You could also describe some of the situations as sepulchral and even nightmarish with their intricacy of detail. In one darkened chamber a sharpened beam stands propped against a wall, like a large fragment from the True Cross. Certainly it is a reminder of the weight of being and a pointer to the religious dimension in this whole body of work.
Photography on a religious theme is difficult to imagine, for this isn't exactly an Age of Belief. Yet Christos Koukelis deploys the elements of religion for the pictures are set in a distinctly material world ravaged by hardship and by exigency. It may be an afflicted domain but it is always and everywhere enlivened by signs of transcendence, by a purifying light and by examples of geometry. You might, in time, work out his agenda, but in the meantime all we have are possibilities which are far more likely than that these are simply studies of stressed environments.
Divine Light
廢墟殘影 斑駁凋零 記憶氤氳
Text by Ian Jeffrey.
Think of these pictures as metaphors. They refer to catastrophe, to ruination and to dereliction. Buildings have been abandoned, and their fittings smashed. More objectively, though, you might say that they deal with the aftermath of catastrophe, when things have had time to settle down. Survivors have removed the bulk of their goods, leaving only a few items for which there was no immediate need. These items, such as beds and chairs, have then been used by incomers.
We read pictures by looking at them. We take in depth, space and colour. We assimilate such properties in a picture, but we can also speak pictures into being. There is a wardrobe, for example, and there is a door, a bed frame and a mattress. There are two cushions, two chairs and a table. That must surely be a dish washing machine with its row of four knobs, dial and buttons. In some cases the debris is more complex, with shelving and toys scattered on the floor, but it is never chaotic – which is important. Christos Koukelis presents us with delimited interiors which it almost possible to comprehend at a glance.
The comprehension we use is domestic, or of the kind we are familiar with in a kitchen or in a bathroom. The pictures imply a rudimentary sort of counting or stock-taking: a slim radiator, for example, with four vertical bars, and another scene with around a dozen plastic crates and three wastepaper baskets, all of them too commonplace to be worth taking away. We can almost be at home in these pared down settings, for we are very used to table tops and to venetian blinds.
If catastrophe constitutes an obverse then the other side of the coin reminds us of domesticity with all its apparatus of tables, chairs and windows. Catastrophe and domesticity complement each other. Domesticity is what we take for granted in terms of routines and of home comforts. If that were all the pictures were about it would be quite enough for one viewing, and we always need to be reminded of the solaces of everyday living. But the photographer has a more metaphysical side. All those windows and doors, for example, may be part of normality, but within these shaded spaces they provide illumination and they also look like pictures or bright representations of another dimension. They suggest another world imbued with light, quite distinct from the damaged here and now in which we presently exist.
The present described here is laborious. It is a context in which we need rest and refreshment, warmth and comfort - or so the iconography seems to indicate. There are some fine hearths, which are a pointer to conviviality and to the need for warmth. You could also describe some of the situations as sepulchral and even nightmarish with their intricacy of detail. In one darkened chamber a sharpened beam stands propped against a wall, like a large fragment from the True Cross. Certainly it is a reminder of the weight of being and a pointer to the religious dimension in this whole body of work.
Photography on a religious theme is difficult to imagine, for this isn't exactly an Age of Belief. Yet Christos Koukelis deploys the elements of religion for the pictures are set in a distinctly material world ravaged by hardship and by exigency. It may be an afflicted domain but it is always and everywhere enlivened by signs of transcendence, by a purifying light and by examples of geometry. You might, in time, work out his agenda, but in the meantime all we have are possibilities which are far more likely than that these are simply studies of stressed environments.
February 26, 2007
An Inconvenient Truth
A factory in Lin Kou, an industrialised town in western Taipei County, because of its function, largely of the district remains underdeveloped and looks ugly, but in an interesting way.
I was enrolled in a military base here, experienced a 3 months horrible recruit training. It was such a hell, that returning to the base every Sunday evening after a short weekend break always made me fell into serious despair.
It happened to be Sunday today, and I ran into a few new recruits, they all got this quite distinguishable appearance, shaved head, a bit dorky looking and staying in a bunch. And of course don't look very happy, which reminds me those bad old days.
Other than factories, one of the biggest hospitals in Taiwan is around.
This picture is not another rip of Al Gore’s global warming movie poster, you see, the smoke here is not whirling in a photoshoped way…blah
I was enrolled in a military base here, experienced a 3 months horrible recruit training. It was such a hell, that returning to the base every Sunday evening after a short weekend break always made me fell into serious despair.
It happened to be Sunday today, and I ran into a few new recruits, they all got this quite distinguishable appearance, shaved head, a bit dorky looking and staying in a bunch. And of course don't look very happy, which reminds me those bad old days.
Other than factories, one of the biggest hospitals in Taiwan is around.
This picture is not another rip of Al Gore’s global warming movie poster, you see, the smoke here is not whirling in a photoshoped way…blah
February 25, 2007
It doesn’t mean anything at all
William Eggleston once took his photos by not looking into the viewfinder, he sort of lift the camera in any possible angles/directions, and snap, snap, snap. It might be a silly thing to do, or if you are bored by regular/well-composed shots that later become banal, no matter how much effort you have tried in rendition and interpretation. What comes in the end is it doesn't mean anything at all. Surely this method does create views which normally we pay less attention to, as well the results could be interesting somehow.
Might be a good way to escape from picture taking boredom, perhaps it is taking a picture by not taking a picture, howtever you define the process of taking a picture.
That is Eggleston though, and he had experimented it through films.
Not very original, I did play with it later this evening, I shake my camera agitatedly up and down, left to right, and realised that it is much harder to press the shutter on a stupid digital camera when not focused at all, not to mention I want to use flash simultaneously.
I had fun playing with it, and the passerby probably thought that I was retarded.
it doesn’t mean anything at all, I think this title defines the set perfectly, nothing really matters really.
Might be a good way to escape from picture taking boredom, perhaps it is taking a picture by not taking a picture, howtever you define the process of taking a picture.
That is Eggleston though, and he had experimented it through films.
Not very original, I did play with it later this evening, I shake my camera agitatedly up and down, left to right, and realised that it is much harder to press the shutter on a stupid digital camera when not focused at all, not to mention I want to use flash simultaneously.
I had fun playing with it, and the passerby probably thought that I was retarded.
it doesn’t mean anything at all, I think this title defines the set perfectly, nothing really matters really.
February 24, 2007
牯嶺街
I kinda like the characters and the pronunciation itself, also there was a movie about murder based its title on this street.
Later, i checked the words in dictionary, yes, a lot characters are not used that often, an indirect way of explaining why you are so ignorant, and some really weird meanings appeared.
牯(Gu: an ox that is being castrated)嶺(Ling: top of a mountain where there are routes or maybe hill is the most common way of explaining it)街(Chai = St. = Street)
or I will just call it “Castrated Ox Hill”
Later, i checked the words in dictionary, yes, a lot characters are not used that often, an indirect way of explaining why you are so ignorant, and some really weird meanings appeared.
牯(Gu: an ox that is being castrated)嶺(Ling: top of a mountain where there are routes or maybe hill is the most common way of explaining it)街(Chai = St. = Street)
or I will just call it “Castrated Ox Hill”
January 27, 2007
January 22, 2007
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)