2019年11月10日星期日

唯色RFA博客:剧毒与荼毒

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翻拍戈雅的画《沙丁鱼葬礼》

剧毒与荼毒



唯色

1
惧怕有些动物是人的天性?
抑或人的迷信?无法解释
一看见就不适
就下意识地动杀机
比如昨晚水池边爬过一个虫
它并没有招惹我
但陡然生起的惧意
使我立刻打开水龙头
冲走了它

事后我很后悔
因为当天是一个佛教节日
而我犯下了杀业

2
突然对甜味
有渴求

翻遍屋子
找到一包杏干

这甘甜的杏干
是一个维吾尔人的妻子给的

但他身陷囹圄已五年
不禁低语:他还好吗?

3
有时候会把边缘这个词
说成悬崖或深渊
于是被边缘化
就成了被悬崖化
或被深渊化
简直是恰如其分

4
开始日甚一日地怕
怕什么呢?
不太想说
主要是不想公开地说
谁都明白到了避之不及的程度

却像那个前苏联音乐大师
说的那样:“他们是生活在一个
连悲剧也冠以‘乐观的’
这种形容词”之中
而不能自拔

5
那显然是一种剧毒
比鹤顶红的毒性更大
可能是红到了极致的缘故

他们该有多么愚蠢且凶狠
争相服下剧毒
然后荼毒同胞

6
感慨于他的感激
生起些微的惊讶
他这样的人本该是被铭记的

应该感激的不是他
而是我们,但就因为这一点
他被刻意地忽略了

慢慢地消失于视线之外
仅仅几年,就几乎做到了
让他在人间蒸发

我不过在小范围发了他的照片
却得到他一遍遍的感激
这让我泪水盈眶

7
殖民者形形色色
除了众所周知的霸道
有一种不同,会百般示好
近似谄媚,太不真实
我对这样的虚伪报以暗暗嗤笑

就像人对食物的嗜好
有的偏辣,有的喜甜
他们待人接物的胃口也各异
而广阔的异域总有适合的一款
以致于他们念念不忘

8
当那么多人异口同声地
一个比一个的嗓门更大地
赞美他,赞美他
那个打算在逃亡天涯的时候
携带的手提箱,放在哪里了?

9
他喜欢占上风
他们都喜欢占上风
任何时候任何事
占不到上风就失心疯
其实占不占上风都疯了
这是一种可耻的传染病
你看他们的眼神就知道

10
啊这些日子
这地!这地!
对于这么多年轻人
变成了生与死

11
我没有去过香港
不知东西南北
但这个夏天和秋天
记住了一个个地名:
元朗,铜锣湾,
太子站,大埔墟,
新屋岭,黄大仙……
都与年轻人的牺牲相关

12
遍地乞食者
为一口食而活
就以为谁都跟自己一样
不相信这个世上
还有不为面包
而活的人

说起来
乞食者都来自
吃不饱的饿鬼道
贪心不足蛇吞象

13
厌烦极了那些自称的佛教徒
实在是厌烦极了
总是善于用佛法的词汇
剪裁一件件开脱自我的外套
他或她乐意穿上
显得自己拥有某种权威感
满口的业力、无常或嗔恨心等等
偏偏遗漏了慈悲心
这个等同于同理心的词汇
我不想提及道德责任之类
这些人擅长各种自圆其说的套话
仿佛那是不可撼动的道德地位

14
他裹上了伪装色
我也裹上了伪装色
像某种收敛翅膀
或牙齿的
小动物
多么可怜

我们都无法以诚相见
无法煲底相见
在错臂而过的时候
你头也不回地悄声说:
“这里就是煲底!”

泪水涌上我的眼
居然连悯然相对也不得……

2019-6月至10

(唯色RFA博客:https://www.rfa.org/mandarin/pinglun/weiseblog/ws-11072019124829.html

2019年10月17日星期四

Tsering Dorje Brings A Revolution To New Haven


Tsering Dorje Brings A Revolution To New Haven
Lucy Gellman | October 3rd, 2019


Forbidden Memory: Photographs of the Cultural Revolution in Tibet by Tsering Dorje runs now through Oct. 27 at City Gallery on State Street. All photos are by Tsering Dorje, printed by William Frucht and photographed in situ with the gallery's permission. 

Even before you catch her eye, the Red Guard looks so very young. She faces forward in profile, eyes fixed on something beyond the frame. Her neck strains just a little. Her chin is a set and rounded square, holding so much stress it seems her face may cave in at any time. There is a whole, tiny army behind her, backs raised, uniforms creased, eyes shifting in the afternoon light. They are, in every way, just kids.
And yet, they’ve been tasked with helping usher in the Cultural Revolution, all before the end of high school.
“Tibetan Red Guards in the Teaching Courtyard” is just one of the images on Forbidden Memory: Photographs of the Cultural Revolution in Tibet by Tsering Dorje, running now through Oct. 27 at City Gallery on State Street. One by one, the photographs reveal a largely untold—and deliberately buried—story of Mao Zedong’s Cultural Revolution in Tibet, and specifically its capital city of Lhasa. They comprise a specific period of work by the late Tsering Dorje, who was an official photographer in the People’s Liberation Army (PLA).
The exhibition is curated by photographer William Frucht, executive editor for political science and law at Yale University Press, with support from Tsering Dorje’s daughter, Tsering Woeser, translator Susan Chen, and Tibet scholar Robert Barnett. From its unassuming place on State Street it is a revelation, bringing to light the violence, selective amnesia, and cultural erasure of the period.

For Frucht, the exhibition’s genesis began a few years ago, when a book proposal from Beijing-based poet, writer and activist Tsering Woeser came across his desk. In the project, Woeser was pitching a book on her father’s photographs, taken in Lhasa in the late 1960s. As she explained, her father had kept several of his negatives, meaning that photographs outlived those years, and escaped complete control at the hands of the Chinese government. 
By that time, she had already published two books in Chinese, from the Taiwanese imprint LocusForbidden Memory: Tibet During the Cultural Revolution and Tibet Remembered, the latter of which told the stories of many of the subjects in her father’s photographs. Now, she was working to get the images and their stories to an English speaking audience.
The images struck Frucht immediately. At the wildly beating heart of both books is a vivid history of violence that has been concealed and suppressed by the Chinese government for over half a century, and a writer who was ready to show it through her father’s eyes. In 1950—when the PLA had first invaded Tibet—Dorje was just 13 years old. The army still took him into its ranks. 
By the mid-1960s, he had become a mid-level officer and then official photographer, documenting a campaign to purge Tibet of Buddhism, excess wealth, social hierarchy and rich Tibetan culture in the name of Mao’s version of Communism. While he later became allied with a faction that fell out of favor with the government, he remained in the army for years.
“But his career stalled,” Frucht said. He died years later, in 1991.

For Frucht, the images were a revelation. In part, he was drawn in because “it’s not totally clear what was private and what was official”—Dorje straddled documentary photography, straight up propaganda, photojournalism and fine art. Several of the photographs went beyond conventional propaganda to depict reeducation campaigns and brutal “struggle sessions,” in which monks, landlords, business owners and well-to-do renters were dragged out into the streets, made to “struggle” under the weight of their possessions and their faith.
In others, Frucht found himself drawn in by figures who didn’t quite seem politically converted, a rare glimpse into the widespread but largely unspoken malaise and ultimate ravages of the period. Through the photographs, Frucht felt that he could see Tibetans splitting into increasing factions, divided first by the Chinese government and then by each other. 
“These weren’t just mobs going after each other,” he said in a recent interview at the gallery. “It was neighbors.”
Even after Yale University Press passed on the book (it is set to be published through Potomac Books, an imprint of the University of Nebraska, in April of next year) the images stayed with him. Last year, he began a push to bring them to the gallery, which ultimately included an Indegogo campaign over the summer before an installation this fall.
In the images, viewers come face-to-face with a history they have likely never seen before—although parts of it feel eerily familiar. In some, Dorje’s eye for propaganda is in full force: a WPA-era sensibility oozes from a print of an “emancipated serf,” whose whole body takes up the frame as he opens his mouth and triumphantly lifts his arm.
It’s a compelling image: the subject looks free and relieved, as if some great weight (perhaps that of material culture, it seems to suggest) has been lifted off of him. His sunhat frames his face like a halo. The outstretched arm, filling a corner of the frame, reflects images from Soviet Propaganda posters also from the 20th century. A label below the image explains that a pen, clipped just so to his pocket, is a status symbol. 

In another, the so-dubbed Tibetan red singer” Tseten Drolma steps forward, her left arm outstretched in a nearly perfect line. Her body is open to the camera, sharp before an out-of-focus crowd behind her. In her right hand, she clasps Mao’s now-infamous Little Red Book. As a label explains, she became known for her brand of music, Tibetan folk songs”rewritten to praise Chairman Mao or the Party.”
Others are hard to stomach as they expose viewers to the public humiliation and public spectacle of the period. In some, monasteries are destroyed, the damage surveyed. Military parades ride through the center of town with intense machismo and swerve. Children pose with copies of the Little Red Book that they are too poor to possibly read.
In a particularly heart wrenching image, Dorje has placed himself at the heart of a struggle session, his camera trained on the wife of Sampo Tsewang Rigdzin, part of a family of aristocrats. The camera is close enough to capture the laborious fold of her body to a 90-degree angle, eyes fixed in the ground beneath her, fingers curled around a tray she must not (but seems doomed to) drop.
As she leans forward, the viewer sees that she has been weighed down by not only her own jewelry and a tray of ritual objects, but also a large box that is revealed to be a bo—“a metal tub used to weigh barley,” as the label explains—fixed to her back with lengths of industrial rope. It’s anti-consumer, anti-wealth rhetoric taken to its most brutal, inconceivable, inhumane point—then carried out by Tibetan soldiers who look like kids, because they are.

“For me, it’s a glimpse into this hidden time,” said Frucht. “I had only the most superficial knowledge of what the Cultural Revolution was … a lot of this is completely new to me.”
He expects that much of it will be new to viewers too. The photographs defy a solely documentary quality: they seem to breathe history right into the gallery as half-reminder, half-warning. Almost all of them contain a detail that makes one stop right in their tracks: a small palm with its fingers outstretched; a face that is twisted just so; a pair of eyes that wander off. In one, Dorje has captured a monk who looks straight into the camera as everyone around him waves on “the new, ‘autonomous’ government” in Lhasa.
He’s not down with the program, and his dubious stare suggests that viewers shouldn’t be either. A label explains that his ostensibly skepticism—or maybe it’s downright anxiety—was correct. Of thousands of temples and monasteries in the region, only eight remained by the 1970s.
“In so many of these, there really is a main character,” Frucht said.

In another nearby, the photographer depicts Zhang Guohua, the Chinese general who led the invasion of Tibet in 1950. In the image, the general leans back just a little, head turned to the left as he makes an announcement. His body seems so sure of its place: hands clasped, veins popping. Sunglasses cover his eyes. Words fly from his open mouth; teeth glint in the light. Over his left shoulder, a subordinate officer laughs and applauds. Only a text beneath the image reveals that Zhang Guohua was ultimately removed by a rival faction. The subordinate officer took his place.
The images are self-conscious in this way, like Dorje knows he’s writing history (and indeed, he was ordered by the army to do so) without knowing how that history will end. While his life ended in 1991, his daughter has since returned to the region, tracking down many of the subjects. As memories of those years have become more distant, they have gone on to live vibrant and sometimes religious lives, their futures shifting as the past becomes, indeed, a forbidden memory for many of them. 
It’s a history that has eerie parallels to the present. While Frucht is quick to say that the invasion of Tibet constituted a uniquely brutal attack on religion and culture, the images resonate decades later, as India’s government threatens to push out its Muslims, Europe warms to its far right, borders tighten as migration explodes, and Democracy faces massive structural challenges across the U.S. and across the globe.
Indeed, the photographs ask viewers what they can do differently in their own circles, to prevent the same hysteria, partisanship, infighting and violence that seem to repeat themselves every few years. 
“I’m very interested in this phenomenon of political hysteria—when people find it suddenly sensible and necessary to to something that they would otherwise never do,” Frucht said, surrounded by the image. “The Cultural Revolution took a particularly Chinese, and in Tibet, a particularly Tibetan form.”
“But you can see some larger resonance, in those actions that we think of as beyond the pale that become justifiable.”

City Gallery is open Thursday to Sunday, 12 p.m. to 4 p.m. or by appointment. Find out more at their website.  

(https://www.newhavenarts.org/arts-paper/articles/forbidden-memory-brings-a-censored-tibet-to-new-haven)

2019年10月16日星期三

唯色RFA博客:愈来愈悲痛……

戈雅名画《农神吞噬其子》(Francisco Goya,Saturn Devouring His Son 1819-1823)。(维基百科)

愈来愈悲痛……


唯色

1、
一天天地
愈来愈悲痛

当无辜的青年被害
我的每个细胞都疼

2、
我原本就爱穿黑衣
现在更有了理由
每日穿

3、
乞食者的主人是谁
掠食者的仆人是谁

主仆在同一片天空下
有时角色互换

有时爱恨交织
谁也离不开谁

4、
他何来这么深的仇恨?
气得脸都歪了

把我们的仁波切
说成“披着人皮的恶魔”

这背后的意思是
消灭就有理了

5、
挥舞着武器
他们狂骂反抗者是蟑螂

为的是理所当然地
白天黑夜地,各种猎杀

6、
据说地球已是一个村庄
可各地何以如此不同?

今晚,离我肉身很近的某处
在放礼花,炮声隆隆

离我心灵很近的某处
弥漫着吞噬生命的烟雾

低头看消息,在西北边,数百人
被蒙住眼睛押上了死亡列车

7、
成年人的他射杀一个孩子
有没有罪恶感?

孩子不是练习射击的靶子
全身高科技的他禽兽不如

愿他每晚无法安睡
愿他坠入十八层地狱

8、
只有恶魔才吞噬年轻的生命
年轻的生命就像被迫献上的祭品

就像许多民族的传说
都有一个相似的是说
盘踞高山或水底的妖怪或恶龙
常常要求当地献祭少男少女
否则就会毁灭一切

恶魔吞噬孩子恶魔吞噬男孩女孩
恶魔把男孩女孩当做祭品细嚼慢咽
这竟成了二十一世纪的隐喻
恶魔吃了孩子就会吃大人吃所有的人

9、
陷入丧失一切的此地
并陷入莫测的时光

我已经尽力地沉默了
已经尽心地祈祷了

但一见到勇武的身影
仍会热泪盈眶

2019-10-1,10-15

(本帖为自由亚洲博客:https://www.rfa.org/mandarin/pinglun/weiseblog/ws-10152019125137.html