Candy Bird : there, there.
「沒關係的,沒關係」
2023.07.01 - 2023.08.05 策展人Curator | 許峰瑞 Hsu Fong-Ray |
開幕 Opening | 2023.07.08 (六) Sat. 15:30
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「沒關係的,沒關係」 - Candy Bird個展
文/許峰瑞 「...風景一幕幕掠過,他甚麼都沒錯過,但也通通錯過了。因為他眼睛雖盯著外頭,人卻困在車廂裡。他一直在等他的終點站,始終沒能下車。」 -《慢車》,城市的憂鬱,胡晴舫 2018年「多麼乾淨的一幅畫」個展後,暫停塗鴉系列創作的想法漸漸在Candy Bird心中萌生,後續他開啟了一段上班族人生,這對一位長年穿梭在都市角落的繪畫行動者而言,是一個很特別的經驗。他也因此接觸到許多我們時常檢視那社會機制內實際的運作方式,無論過程美好與否,一個行政工作該接觸到的狀況,他幾乎都沒有缺席。這是一件好事吧,就我的觀點會想:「很高興你體會過上班族所面對的各種無奈與妥協。」但這是出自於一種調侃,而非理解。 面對現實世界與理想的衝突,或許換副眼鏡能過濾一些班雜、添上不同色彩,抑或是降低它刺眼的程度,但終究那幅景象仍印入眼簾,留在心底成為了記憶。這些記憶,我們並不陌生,它往往以一種似曾相識的方式運作著,或許是清晨醒來陽光照在窗簾上的幽微光線,或許是舊物店裡面的一疊二手衣物,或許是看著電影時偶然觸動的那一格畫面。這些細節,總和過往的那些記憶在深夜裡交談,道出那自己以為從不曾經歷卻再也熟悉不過的時空。如夢境般混亂、跳躍地勾所畫成的那張地圖,睜開眼,行走於一日生活的路途上,總讓人有種迷路感,卻也稍縱即逝。 在2022年「Candy Bird:Moon / Moon」展覽裡,看著他漫無目的開車漫遊所見,以及斜坡下散落桌椅和空間中的日常物件,更顯露出他面對現實的疲憊和衝突,似乎從這個城市到那個城市間,沒有所謂的距離和時間,只見到孤獨不安的徘徊所休憩的片刻。城市,這個過往他所熟悉的遺址巷弄,不再只是社會議題,當初所批判的事件,至今都已經改變。那些塗鴉也隨著外在世界遺留在原地,見證了城市的記憶,卻終究無法阻止它的演變,一如我們無法阻擋歲月流逝。我想,藝術創作,也是如此。過往Candy Bird站在街頭只見到城市變遷,現在的他在城市裡看著自己的演變。 塗鴉在Candy Bird眼中,只是一種創作的工具,創作本身才是說話途徑。畫布從城市牆面來到繃布的畫框裡,是目光所及的對象轉移;充滿皺紋的大頭人偶,消失在畫面內,是對於符號消費的抵抗;以黃、橙、粉的明亮用色,亦不復見,代替的是沉重色調和微弱光線。在「沒關係的,沒關係」展覽裡,Candy Bird將畫框中的圖像擴散至白色空間,這一部分來自於塗鴉經驗的延伸,另一部分,空間中沒有太多故事訴說所留下的空白,更是一種壓抑及情緒,而留在展場角落的影像則是對創作言述外的歇腳處。這些作品與空間的關係,往往不是表面上看起來那麼回事,這個世界也許沒有真相,但總能列出一些不容否認的事實,作為生活持續進行的證據,即使更多時候在城市生活的人們,寧願生活在謊言之中也不願面對現實。 對於這樣的表現,或許我們可以問,為什麼要放棄原本的識別?對消費性環境的抵抗,是否真要連自我也一同抵制,才能達到平靜?確實,現實世界並不會因為自我抹除而撼動一分,但卻能保有自由。這份自由,也是藝術創作中最珍貴的意志。藝術創作者要拿出一次要比一次更好的作品,在一定程度上也是為了符合藝術社群和市場的期待,這種消費模式鮮少關注創作重整期時所展現的樣貌,然而,這卻是藝術創作中很重要的節點。展覽,並非總是要告訴觀眾些甚麼對於這個世界的見解,有時候更是說著,其實我們也不懂這個世界。相互傾訴,才有一個開始。 現代社會就像一條塞車的道路,車陣中既擁擠又相隔的存在,象徵著生命裡所有可言說及不可言說的一切,封裝在一輛輛規矩等著紅綠燈的車輛裡,望著前方無止境的軌跡,踩足油門向前駛去。即使我們都在同一條道路上,但畢竟不坐在同一輛車子裡。我們並不是不知道外面世界的複雜,正因為完全清楚,所以放棄追隨,以各種形式不斷切割自己的生命框架。最後,將這些零星不完整,彷若蒙太奇鏡頭的生命經驗串連起來,成為一個故事。 沒關係的,沒關係。如果有選擇,我們都寧可孤獨。 。。。。。。。
Candy Bird : there, there.
By Hsu Fong-Ray “…Scenes of landscape flash by. He doesn't miss a thing, yet misses everything. While his eyes are transfixed on the view, he is trapped inside the bus. He keeps waiting for his final destination, but never manages to get off.”—“Slow Bus”, City Blues, Lolita Hu After his solo exhibition "What a Neat Painting" in 2018, the idea of putting graffiti aside for a while began to take hold of Candy Bird's mind. Soon after, he took up an office job and began the life as a salaryman. It was a unique experience for a painter who had spent years meandering and making art in the corners of the city. The decision allowed him to come in contact with the pragmatic operations in the societal mechanism that we so often scrutinize. Whether the experience was pleasant or not, he rarely averted a situation that an administrator would encounter. One might view this with positivity, or personally, I might say, "I'm glad you got to experience all the frustrations and compromises that office workers have to endure." This is of course more of a tease than sympathy. In dealing with the conflict between reality and ideals, perhaps putting on another pair of spectacles can filter out some of the mundane specks, add different colors, or even alleviate the intensity that blinds us. However, the images still imprint on us and remain etched in our memories. These memories are not unfamiliar to us; they often operate in a familiar way, like the faint sunlight resting on the curtains that we wake up to in the early morning, a stack of second-hand clothes in a thrift store, or a single frame in a movie that unexpectedly resonates with us. These minutiae, always conversing with past memories in the depths of the night, reveal a time and space that we thought we had never experienced but feel extremely familiar. Frenzied like a dream, that map drawn with random lines…we open our eyes, and as we walk that usual route to start an ordinary day, there is always a sense as though we are lost, yet that feeling dissipates just as fleetingly. In the 2022 exhibition "Candy Bird: Moon/Moon," as I take in the scenery from his wandering car rides and the desk, chairs, and everyday objects scattered at the bottom of a ramp, it was evident that he felt exhausted and conflicted coming up against reality. It seemed that neither distance nor time existed between one city and another. All that could be seen were fleeting moments of lonely wandering. The city, with alleys and ruins he once knew so well, was no longer just a social issue. The things he had criticized in the past have changed. The graffiti remains in the external world, bearing witness to the memories of the city but could not ultimately stop its progression, just as we cannot stop the passage of time. I believe that making art is no different. In the past, Candy Bird stood on the streets, witnessing only the transformation of the city, but now he finds himself observing his own transformation within the city. To Candy Bird graffiti is merely a tool for making art; it is the art-making that is the means of expression. The transition from city walls to stretched canvases represents a shift in the object of his gaze. The figures, with wrinkled faces disappearing into the image, are his resistance against consumption of symbols. Bright colors of yellow, orange, and pink give way to heavy tones and faint light. In the exhibition "Candy Bird : there, there." Candy Bird extends the images within the frames into the white space. This extension is partly derived from his experience in graffiti and partly from the blankness from the absence of stories within the space. Even more so, it shows a sense of repression and exudes a certain emotion. The video deposited in a corner of the exhibition space serves as a place for respite outside the narrative of his work. The relationship between these artworks and the space is often not readily understood at first glance. This world may lack definitive truths, but there are certainly undeniable facts to show that life goes on, even though city dwellers more often than not rather live in lies than confront reality. Looking at Candy Bird’s artistic decisions, we might ask, why does he forego the previous characteristics of his oeuvre? Must he resist the consumerist environment to such an extent that he also rejects himself in order to attain peace? Indeed, self-erasure will not shake reality in the slightest, but in doing so he is able to maintain his freedom. This freedom is also the most precious will in artistic creation. Artists strive to produce better works time and again, to some extent, in order to meet the expectations of the art community and the market. This consumerist model is rarely inclusive of works from a transitional phase, which is, however, an important juncture in artistic creations. An exhibition does not always set out to convey a particular interpretation of the world to the audience; sometimes it simply says, "Neither do we understand this world." It is through mutual sharing that a beginning arises. Modern society is a congested road, where vehicles are jammed yet isolated from each other. The metaphor embodies everything that is said and unsaid in life. We are trapped in our cars, patiently waiting for the traffic light while gazing at the endless tracks ahead, then press on the accelerator to move onward. We may be traveling down the same road, but we are not sitting in the same vehicle after all. We are not oblivious to the complexity of the world outside. It is precisely because we are fully aware that we persistently divide the framework of our lives a thousand ways. At last, we connect these life experiences, scattered and fragmented like montage shots, to form a story. There, there. If given the choice, we all prefer to be alone. 。。。。。。。 |