Christina.Y.Z

If we dated back to 1997, the time when Jiang Zhi began his early artistic creation, since then he has  been exploring varied words and expressions to define and counter- define his art territory. In 2006 he developed a series of motif-works with the use of light, such as his ” Once Things Happen ” series, in which it revealed not only he is extremely sensitive but also he positively feeds back towards the social issues in his time and era. In 2008, his work ” 0.7% of salt ” was closely associated with the issues of sociology and which raised doubts unto the relationship between objective events and subjective psychic reactions through the analysis on the specific social events. He expressed his poetic characteristics through the varied definitions of his art works.

Light in Prophet ‘s book metaphors “revelation”, I think Jiang Zhi ‘s art work beholds this kind of interesting track of “revelation”. We once had a short discussion on ” the light of revelation “, I asked : “You do like highlight and expose the hidden secrets of the world, don’t you ? ” He answered: “I tend to use an old saying from China ” hide one’s capacities and bide one’s time”, and for the revealing and manifesting of “light” that is the way of God, once if our human wants to ” demonstrate” something, it will become the light of prejudice, the way of demonstration will finally be non-exist. As I read from an old Chinese literature book: “Heaven and earth is not self-generated, so it can live long or forever.” ”

After “Once Things Happen” series,  he created ” The Transient Light ” in early 2011, and in the following year he created ” God of Small Things “ ; they are all about descriptions of varied light.

Jiang Zhi created two series of art works in the year of 2013; one series is his creation according unto the computer screen system’s mal-function; another one is a video, it is called “Bad World.” He insists that “Bad World” echoes to “bad infinity” which was raised by Hegel. The images were taken in Maldives by a bad camera in June of 2013. It is a camera immersed in water on July 21, 2012 in Pekin, some people lost their lives at that day due to the heavy rain, and Pekin was really heavily flooded on that day. Jiang Zhi’s study room was also flooded, the camera was there then, therefore it still can shoot but it presents another kind of image. But Jiang Zhi believes this kind of image is equal to any other kind of image. He did not abandon this “bad” camera instead he continues to take pictures and shooting videos with it. When I make an analogy between this “bad” camera to the ” blind eye” , Jiang Zhi declared: “It is not blind , it is just showing us a different perception.” Then I think I can comprehend a bit of his art creative intention: Through this ” bad” camera we should not only see the appearance of “blindness”, instead it activates yet another perceptions from ourself towards the exterior world. He actively inspiring the viewer to be stimulated to use another visual angle, or a kind of multidimensional way of seeing, the viewer may perceive more, and the screen will not be void and insignificant then.

Bad World        video       2013

When Jiang Zhi insists to explore another viewing channel with viewers and his “blind eye”, then we may question: After things are corrupted, after the intervals and stagnations of time, what is the significance of being? “Bad World ” is no longer a remote event that had been published on an outdated newspaper, Jiang Zhi brought it out from the limitation of time, and from the retrospection of this event, then every one of us should reflect towards our own significance of life.

For the understanding of phenomenon Jiang Zhi admitted: “All things are built by perceptions and all things are perceptions.” After our discussion, he repeatedly stressed: “All the art works are the fruits of  subjectivity; they are the representations of the author; also they are in front of the viewer ‘s subjective preferential observation, for the subjectivity which is unfixed and changeable, then there will exist neither a determined visual perception or art work, nor there will have the determined representation or event. ”

Jiang Zhi considers the appearance has the characteristics of inauthenticity and concealing. He supposes, in our daily life, we live in our own imaginations and illusive consciousnesses in the  unpredictable and changeable social and cultural context. I consider, the experience of Modernity , such as Benjamin once had described in a century ago: “it is a mechanical reproduction era ” and ” the era of commodity fetishism”. I think that for facing such a destructive, painful experience, we often want to make ourself to be a spectator, or to be a clear minded “marginal observer”. But Jiang Zhi objected me: ” If we are awake, we will be able to clearly know that we will never be “a bystander “,  because there will never exist an “event ” beyond your subjective observation, or there will never exist an “observation” in an objective system. So there will never exist an “event ” beyond the subjective perception, and the “event” is changing unceasingly. Only those who do not have a clear mind will hold the illusion that they can go beyond the subjective “event” .”

His new work, as he has said: “For the external world, we can never see it. …… All we can see are our  own world. ……For the external world, we can never see it directly. If we can never truly experience the external world, does it really exist? What can we attain is only our own world. ” ( ” Faulty Display ” Jiang Zhi ) Finally, I conclude from his deduction: A watching towards art will become an observation towards ourself. We will meet our “another self” in the artist’s creation.

I always appreciate when Breton replied his appreciations for St. Boer’s poetry: “What the Poet wanted to say that had been said .” But Jiang Zhi believes: ” The poet might be more humble, he might say, it is the language which speaks , while himself, mostly, but a lucky recorder, or even he has not been that lucky, because he was not fortunate enough to have the ability to reveal the whole truth. In this situation, sometime, if the poet is lucky enough, he is but the one who has been written by the truth itself.

As for Jiang Zhi, he does not agree that an artist needs to speak clearly everything in his artistic creation, he insists that who claims in the work he has to say some” valuable words “which is undoubtedly arrogant and deceitful, it will be an oppression and an intention of controlling over the viewer. He clarifies: A good author is whom does not speak much in his work.

When we were discussing ” manifesting ” , he insisted “going back and abide concealing”.

                                                            September 14^th, 2013 In Venice

郑念缇

自从1997年的系统创作之后，蒋志一直在探索不同的语词表达来界定或者是反界定自己的艺术疆域。2006年他开始的一系列运用光的作品，如“事情一旦发生”为母题的系列作品，揭示了蒋志作为一个艺术家对于所处时代所具有的特殊的敏感力和积极反馈。2008年，他与社会学密切相关的作品《0.7%的盐》，通过解析社会事件对所谓客观事件与个体－主观的关系的提出一种质疑。对于自己作品的命名，显示了他对于语词的思考，呈现了他的诗人般的敏感特质。

光在先知的书里譬喻“启示”，蒋志的作品里常常有这些有趣的“启示”的踪迹。关于我所认为带有启示的光，我们有一段有趣的讨论。我：“你喜欢彰显和揭露隐蔽之处是吗？”他：我比较倾向“韬光养晦”，因为使“光”显露或彰显是神所为，光一经我们去“彰显”，即为偏见之光，道将不存。“天地不自生，故能长生。””在“事情一旦发生”之后，他于2011年初创作了《片刻之光》，并在次年创作了《微物之神》；这一切都与光有关。

这一次展览的两个系列的作品，一个是蒋志在计算机显示系统故障的条件下作画。 另一个影像作品，叫做《坏世界》。 我们讨论作品名称的时候，蒋志认为他的《坏世界》是对于黑格尔的“坏无限”的呼应。作品图像是蒋志今年六月在马儿代夫用一个坏相机拍摄的影像。那一部相机因为2012年7月21日北京的一次大雨，他的书房被淹，相机被水浸泡，此后可以拍摄但却是另外一种显像。而蒋志认为这种显像对他来说和任何图像一样都是平等的。同一天的北京城被水淹没，一些人在那一天失去生命。蒋志没有舍弃这部“坏”相机，继续用来拍照和录像。当我用“盲者之眼”来比喻他的旧相机时，蒋志声称：“它没有盲，只是另一种显示而已。”而在表象，通过“坏”相机我们应该不止是看到黑暗。艺术家通过这个方式激发了观者打开另外的观看，一种多维的观看，观者也许会感知更多，不再执着于画面的时候画面将不再是空无。

Bad World        Video       2013

而蒋志坚持运用盲者之眼让观者和他去打开另一扇观看的门。我们于是质疑：事物败坏之后，时间在某个段落停滞的间歇，个体存在的真正意义和价值？“坏世界”不再只是一张发黄的旧报纸上登载的过期事件，蒋志把它带出来，让每一个我们都从这一社会事件引发出对于自身的存在的反思。

对于现象的认识他深信：“一切唯心所想，唯识所造。”每一次讨论作品之后，他一再强调：“所有的作品都是来自主观的产物； 都是作者主观的呈现；也都是观者主观之眼观看的结果，但因为主观的变动不居，那么就不可能有确定的产物和结果，也没有确定的呈现或事件。”

蒋志认为表象具有掩蔽性和不真实性。而在日常、社会、文化生活的变幻莫测的缩影里我们活在自己的想像和意识里。现代性的经验，如本雅明所叙述的“是机器复制的时代”，是“商品拜物教的时代”。面对这种杀伤性的、伤痛的、现代性经验，我们常常希望使得自己变为一个旁观者，成为一个清醒的“边缘人”。而蒋志认为：“如果我们足够清醒，那就能清醒地知道，我们永远都不可能是“旁观者”，因为没有你观察之外的“事件”，也没有出离你的感觉系统的“观察”，所以说，“事件”于心无外。“事件”永不成形。只有不清醒的人，才会有站在“事件”外的错觉。”

而他的新作品，如他自己所说：“对于外部世界我们永远无法看到。……我们看到的都是自己的世界。……”（《有故障的显示》蒋志）这是一次观看自己的行为。我们将要在艺术家的艺术作品里与另一个自我相遇。

我一直欣赏布勒东对于圣· 波尔鲁的诗歌的看法和回答：“诗人想说的都已经说了。”蒋志则认为：“诗人会更谦虚，他也许会说，是语言自己在说，而他，最多是一个幸运的记录者。甚至他还没有这个幸运，因为他不够幸运到有能力使真理呈现。在这个过程中，诗人才是一个被书写者。”

至于蒋志，他并不觉得艺术家在作品中去把话说完是一件好事，声称在作品中有所谓艺术家要说的“有价值的话”无疑是狂妄和欺骗，对观众来说也是一种控制和压迫。他个人认为：不置言在作品中的作者是好作者。

在我们讨论“彰显”的时候，他坚持要“回到隐蔽”。

                                                                                   2013-9-14 威尼斯

By:Véronic-Ting CHEN

Frangibility, instability, consumption and finally, disappearance. In a silent space, this process is poetically and aesthetically described: a fully launched fireworks show, a well-performed birthday concert with no audience, an ordinary but transient flush of light. They might be so easily ignored by one who paid little attention. But never mind, it does not matter; the fireworks cannot be seen, just as the concert cannot be heard, just as the light is still the light, which is only “one” light, “some” light.

However, are we strong enough to confront these pain of disappearance straight on?

Both Francis Bacon and Edward Munch’s  Scream have no audience although pain coming out as a scream. One should ask why? Perhaps Hemingway has the answer all along: we are all vulnerable in the face of other’s suffering; we cannot even endure their heartbreaking screams of pain. Or maybe Susan Sontag can give the answer: observing others’ suffering will differentiate ourselves from the sufferers, which will assure us that we are not in acute pain as them, we affirm our own being and receive certain visual pleasure.

Artist is the bystanders of suffering.

Artist is the experimenter of suffering.

We intend to discuss and find out what kind of relationship between others’ disappearance, their suffering and ourselves. How can we demonstrate our agony in front of the public, and how can we make it into “artworks”? Self-affliction, our own hidden pains; how, when, where, and with what can they become others’ grief?

In February 9, 2009, the night of Chinese lantern festival, a fireman end up dead in an extinguishing mission. The cause of fire was because a government official who worked in a public media, insisted of launching contraband level A fireworks at a new and uninspected site of a enterprise, even when the police discouraged this clearly unsafe and unlawful action. This accident resulted a billion dollar loss, in addition to seven firemen injured and one deceased. The deceased fireman should have had his thirtieth birthday in two weeks.

The other story tells like this. In December 26, 2010, a man found a reflective light on a piece of cellophane. On the next day, the light appeared again, and this time, he recorded the incident. At that night, he received the news that his wife has passed away during her trip back to hometown. We can boldly make some assumptions, that as a sign, his record of the coincidental reflective lights adopt a personal emotion to it, and becomes a piece of art due to his wife’s death? However, despite its terribly devastation, this emotion of pain would still be personal. Isn’t it? We can see the lights in the artwork, though we cannot hear the screams behind.

This man was alerted twice at the same time and with the same “signal”, twice! But, he was too late to annotate, discover and even understand what the “signal” meant.  This phrase, “too late,” demonstrates that he could probably still “do” something, but instead he missed the moment of a person’s death without any awareness. This aggrieved regret of which turned into wailing, can be much more painful than the pain of lost, and yet this suffering of the retard to seize sense of events, became something “more than personal”.

In September 30, 2012, this birthday concert will last for the entire night without audience, scream loudly to welcome a new reborn. While in October 1, those welcomed audiences will see the usual silence just as expected.

This might be just one of thousands of other firework that we have ever missed; such as one of thousands of newborn’s lives; and also one of thousands of signals. Every day, with every missed fireworks shows, every missed birthday songs, and every transient light, we may come to aware that what disappear in our time is never the objects themselves but our abilities to perceive the sense of these events. Simultaneously, we suffered not because of the disappearance, but our incapability of perceiving the “loss” that will last.

And meanwhile, the audience is becoming the bystanders of suffering.

The audience is becoming the experimenter of suffering.

在我们的时代里

策展人语：维洛尼卡

脆弱，不稳定，消耗，最终到消散，这个过程在诗意的审美中安静的被刻画着：一场盛放过后的烟花表演，一曲精疲力竭却没有听众的生日颂，一道平淡无奇转瞬即逝的光，在一个寂静的空间里，稍不注意，就一一错过。倒也无妨，反正同样看不见烟花，听不见演唱，而那道光，也只是“一”道光，“某”道光。

我们的每一天，都将错过无数次事物的消逝。我们一直都在“之后”姗姗来迟，后知后觉。

然而，我们又是否能足够坚强地直接去见证这种消逝的痛苦？

弗朗西斯·培根的“呐喊”与爱德华·蒙克的“呐喊”中，都没有听众，为什么？或者海明威能给出答案：因为我们在他人的痛苦面前是如此的软弱与无能为力，我们甚至无法去承受其撕心裂肺的呐喊。或者苏珊·桑塔格能给出答案：旁观他人的痛苦，能使得我们与痛苦者区分，从而确认我们没有“那么”痛苦，在此获得某种视觉上的欢娱。

艺术家是痛苦的旁观者。

艺术家是痛苦的体验者。

我们试图去探讨，他者的消逝，他者之痛，与己何干？而我们的痛，又如何能成为“作品”，展示于众人面前？私人的痛，隐隐作痛，如何，何时，何地，何德何能，成为了众人的伤？

2009年2月9日元宵节晚，一位消防员在一次灭火任务中牺牲。起火原因是国家公共传媒机构某领导擅自违法在不顾治安民警劝阻下执意在消防系统未被验收的企业新址上燃放被禁止的A级烟花。火灾造成数亿元经济损失，7位消防人员受伤，1人死亡。这位消防员本将在两个星期后迎来他30岁的生日。

2010年12月26日，一个男人在自己家中发现一道玻璃纸的反光，第二天，这道光再出现时，他记录了下来。而在当天晚上，他收到自己回家乡过节妻子离世的哀讯。我们鲁莽的想：殇妻之痛，使得这道光有了自己的情绪，而区别于其他的光，成为了作品？然而这种情绪，即使再满目疮痍，依然私人得可怕不是吗？我们看到了光，还未听见背后的呐喊。

这个男人被提示了两次。同一个时间，同一个“信号”，两次！他来不及去注解，来不及去发觉，来不及去意识…“来不及”，似乎原本还能“做”些什么，还没来的及去醒悟发生了什么事情，一个人的一生就瞬间过去。是这种痛心疾首的后悔，化为阵阵哀鸣。

我们身处在一个什么样的时代？我们又该如何去赋予某件事件某些意义？

2012年9月30日晚这场没有听众却持续整夜生日颂，嘶声力竭的呐喊着新生的到来。而10月1日如期而至的观众们，看到的只有这一如既往的沉默。

这也许只是我们过错的烟花中的其中一场；过错的新生的其中一天；过错的信号的其中一段…每天的每天，一场又一场的烟花划过，一曲又一曲的生日颂唱过，一道又一道不起眼的光闪现又消失。或者我们的时代里，消逝的不是事物，而是感知事物意义的能力；而我们痛苦的也并非是消逝，而是对我们的“所失”的无法觉察。

观众成为痛苦的旁观者。

观众成为痛苦的体验者。

Perfunctory Notes on “Love Letters”

This poem is sad because it wants to be yours, and cannot.

-          John Ashbery

 “The fires of hell feed on your desires. People do not burn you; you burn yourself.”

-          Su Shih, Odes of the Icons of the Water-Land Ritual – Lower Eight Seats – Denizens of Hell

1

The quote marks (“ ”) around titles separate and distinguish content, luring us to read while admonishing against an unbroken flow of reading, preventing or standing against the muddling of discursive forms.

In this way, Jiang Zhi’s “Love Letters” are not Jiang Zhi’s Love Letters.

The latter belongs to that unique individual recipient. Its private structure, its love, its attachments, its implorations, its condemnations, its summonses, and everything which falls outside of the “ ” part, as well as the meanings which can only occur upon an action – a response? an affirmation? a non-response? – are things that are entirely invisible to the eyes of the reader or viewer.

The love letter is a naked power relationship with no place for a third person. The acts of loving and being loved, of confessing and listening, do not reveal their inner emotions and are not moved by us. Only the “ ” ensures that a love which is not in the least bit exposed, yet is total in body and mind, is once again released, transcending giver and receiver to visit upon the other, who has no rights in the matter.

Our perceptions or doubts can only be manifested, in either rich and complex or simple and crude textures – but certainly self-moderated – through such assurances, with such manifestations encapsulating, supplementing and comparing the object within the “ ” without any shame or discomfort.

Placing it within the “ ” is like a naked person donning a hastily grabbed article of clothing (or bed sheet) before truly coming out to face a sudden visitor.

Here is the unfolding of readability, the opening up of the artwork, the blossoming of the text. The object, which does not require an informed identity, is consulting with us, seeking a dialogue, imploring us for contact, grasping for our curious gaze: look, this photo, Jiang Zhi’s “Love Letter”…

2

The “ ” also implies that the object – the love letter – this text, this work of art, this complete object, is presentational and open, something that can be read, can be viewed from various angles. It can, and must, be placed within the various genres to examine its position and open its multiple meanings, rather than sealing it away from the beginning: classification, filing, top right corner, first cabinet, third shelf…

Opening up its text (artwork) is a statement with a subject and a predicate, an assault on its text, forcing it to open its doors. It assumes that an open text does not exist or refuses to make an admission: a transcendental “near existence” can never descend as a true “existence” without passing concretely through my experience. Art must be “made.” Action must be taken. My known and unknown conditions must be employed to remove the barriers around the artwork. It must either be invaded with writhing tentacles, or its lewdness must be avoided altogether.

No matter what is here, it must pass through our “usage” of language and find a “niche” before it can reach the scene within the texture of language.

These 22 photographs by Jiang Zhi, known as the “Love Letters,” require us to personally set out and construct their visual aspects, meanings, beauty, concepts, and within this process, we must work while simultaneously dismantling the theoretical scaffolding on which its discussion depends – unless this vision is farsighted and the will is staunch. Otherwise, it will merely amount to this:

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,

has grown so weary that it cannot hold

anything else. It seems to him there are

a thousand bars, and behind the bars, no world.

- Excerpt from The Panther, by Ranier Maria Rilke. Translated from the Czech by Stephen Mitchell

3

But there is a “world” behind the artwork; there must be.

Also, it is there, but we cannot use its visual beauty or power of expression to forestall it.

The purer a visual perception, the more striking the sense of “I get it.” The more accumulation and impurities below, the louder my exaltations of its beauty, which implies that the things held back behind such exaltations are more vast and taciturn.

So, what I must say towards this incontrovertible beauty in Jiang Zhi’s works is inevitably no longer its “beauty.” I should first attempt to retract this word “beauty,” affixing to it a chastity belt, wrapping it up in black clothing and making it remain in the shrine, mourning for the rumored death of its king – Odysseus.

The flowers, bushes, rocks, implements, floors, walls and everything else burning before us, these burning or burned images and their reflections, visual manifestations and presentations – where and how do they move us? Is it one, or more? Is it the certainty or the uncertainty? Is it the faithfulness or the unfaithfulness of the photograph? Is it a scene of something that really happened, or is it just a fragmentary visual trace?

Ahh! What is it?

We have seen and experienced so many “burnings.” They leave only to return, are extinguished only to be rekindled. When they suddenly stop for a moment, they leave, leap off the tracks, staying there like remnants. Is this in itself enough to astonish us? No, of course not. That is our astonishment towards photography; an eternal, universal, tiring astonishment.

And then what? Is it an Aristotelian “tragedy”? Is beauty being destroyed before your eyes? It is not! Here, nothing has been destroyed, no two aspirations are struggling against each other, though the intellectuality and common sense that I project onto this scene tells me, and implies about this event that: the flower, after this burning, will rapidly wither and dwindle… but this is not to present us or provide us with a different world. This splendor in itself exists perfectly, slightly scorching, but tragedy does not emerge within.

The needle points to the next moment, but never reaches it, moving towards something just a little bit ahead (in Zeno’s sense), suspended, always falling, perpetually returning…. Once the sense of tension emerges, it can never again recede or diminish. Instead, it is constantly viewed with new eyes, while never providing a satisfactory or definitive moment.

Yes, an object reached the position determined by the artist, forcefully called and held here, in this form: you are under arrest! As for the crime, I cannot comment…

4

The tragedy has not appeared. But the shadow of K seems to have emerged with no warning whatsoever…

In the photographs, there is a K. This is perhaps that phantom that has always wound itself around our speech – through the likes of Benjamin, Barthes and Sontag – but has never been clearly expressed. It would seem that the sages are in accord: ngh, unclear expressions are more suited to the essence of K.

At this moment, however, the material evidence called into the court by “Love Letters” – the flowers, the flames – are scorching my tongue, inciting me to risk the question on their behalf: why? Why do you wake us from the dream of nature? Why do you drag us out of our own existence? Why do you bring us together before the camera? Why am I shrouded in grief and sorrow that I do not know? Why have I been called under your investigative and skeptical gazes?

Is it not so? The camera turns self-contented objects into helpless visages.

This implies that there are no more self-evident things. Everything here makes the same exhortation: give me an explanation!

-          “If you don’t give me an explanation, I’ll give you one!” (YJ)

5

Here, when we mention the incarnations of K or YJ, it is first a sociological pseudo-concern; secondly, it is an attempt at literary film critique; thirdly and fourthly, it is a feinted pawning of one thing for another, causing the accustomed arrangements of speech between the words flying off the keyboard to take on chaotic positions.

On this line (or the one below it), the discourse keels over or collapses. Speech begins on this line (or the one below it).

6

Photography is a cage. There certainly exists a continuous, massive and ceaseless arrest, entrapment and declaration of guilt. Aside from the force that stems from the artist (wisdom or obsession is also a form of force); there is nothing in the world imbued with such courage to resolve to become an embargoed object.

This is the core of the artist’s contemporary work: blockage, blockading, attempting to seal off as many things as possible from escaping to the next world, even forcing the next world itself to remain here before our eyes.

7

What Jiang Zhi captures is “fire.”

He uses intoxicating methyl alcohol to lure the flames on the body of the object, creating scene after scene of unexpected calamities.

This “fire” is alcoholic, lustful, addicted, Dionysian. It sips the from the pollen, flower petals, stalks, leaves and even the surface of the vase, sucks from within the stems, licks from every crack in the stones, lapping up every last drop of the alcohol.

At any moment, when this kiss of the wine god departs, the object it caresses and embraces follows along.

This is the moment of the “fires of retribution,” where self and object engulf one another, intoxicated, absentminded, even obsessed in a passing moment of truth.

Passing? Yes, passing. As a poetic inscription for Jiang Zhi’s artwork, it is this word that resonates – because only that which is passing is real. The long and healthy life is only a vain fantasy of man.

With this wanton flame, Jiang Zhi has posted and sent this love letter via fire to some murky figure separated from him, or perhaps posted a response to a long past: whether here or there, the real phrases, whispers, prayers, condemnations and allegories known only to sender and recipient are only visible in the faint candlelight of our vision as mere traces or scattered reflections within these “Love Letters” that Jiang Zhi lays out for us. They crumple as they unfold before our eyes, their intentions long gone, or perhaps “moving backwards,” receding into the distance with each moment as they face us.

8

Alchemists believe that fire is not necessarily the definite material it appears to be on the surface. It is more of a masculine principle that all feminine materials depend on to gain their form (according to Gaston Bachelard).

Love, death and vision are perhaps feminine materials that do not always possess form. Like the prophet Elijah, they pray for the coming of the flames.

But here, true love and death have been washed away and transformed within these love letters that Jiang Zhi has sent to another place. Only that vision, which is instantaneous, extended and transferred to within the “Love Letters” still dozes here.

In the photographs, the sleeper meets our inquiring gaze with a murky stare from within the depths of the flames. Nothing exists, only the visage of objects.

These “Love Letters,” as visages of objects, gather and condense all moments in the now: here the abandoning protector and the wishful thinker, the masculine-feminine hybrid, bathes in the flames.

9

“All flowers are sparks – sparks that wish to become light.” This is the formula that Bachelard purified for Novalis-esque dreamers. The flowers and flames in “Love Letters,” however, share no real connection to the romanticist call in this formula beyond the metaphorical allusions to nothing ever being able to escape through sheer luck.

The existence of such spatial elements as grounding wires, stairs, tabletops, corners and highly common wallpapers tell us that the properties of this space do not comprise a transcendent construct. In these everyday living spaces, the flowers and flames have the qualities of an “incident,” though still marked by tones of a “fortuitous event” or a “miracle.” The everyday properties of these spaces, however, have annotated these tones, ensuring that these miraculous scenes remain in the realm of structuralism, belonging, with the smallest of differences, to Barthes’ so called “grasping, then rearrangement of reality.”

The existence of arranged flowers or potted plants in the composition is another assurance of this structural reality. They have even been engulfed and consumed, becoming the object of the wine god’s desires.

These flowers, often seen in flower shops and frequenting man’s various social engagements and rituals, present with commodity and consumerist properties, while also enhancing the complexity of these structural intentions…

This is not a sentimental expression of regret, an exclamation or the possession of poeticized philosophy. These things have no perch for existence in the stable, completed world of meaning. Instead, they shift, flee and escape from their own properties to other properties, even to the margins of possibility, or to the artist himself. He may quickly toss them behind him out of concern for the original intent.

10

“Love Letters” seventeen to twenty-two

From indoors to the outdoors, from urban spaces to natural environs, from consumer objects to things-in-themselves, even pitting stone against fire. As Jiang Zhi roams with fire in hand, he faces an utterly different space: this is an uncontrollable, possessed land. In even the least wild of natural settings, man’s intentions can be blurred and altered.

Our thoughts may turn to “self-immolation” and its implications. We may also be attracted to the psychological image of the “arsonist” that Bachelard attempted to resolve.

But in the face of so called nature, structural man is powerless in the end. We can only listen intently for the cultural and emotional information inside, and, as Barthes described, perceive the “trembling of mankind” from its reverse.

Is this a Lu Xun-style subterranean fire? A landscape of purgatory? Perhaps the flames licking across stones and bushes are oriental material grief and the edge of the next world? Are they the things and states that cannot be described with clarity, and must rely on this unclearness to be understood?

11

Man is an aesthetic simpleton. When this superstition is activated by art or poetry, the promotion and borrowing of all other values becomes inappropriate. Any knowledge or tools from physiology, psychoanalysis, or any of what Benjamin Bloom called the “hated disciplines,” even the slightest bit, amounts to an affront that incurs a drastic response.

Unless, however, we enter into special circumstances, or are willing to step over the void below the tightrope of logic, actively casting doubt on the various associations and imitations based on color, form and shape, and the impressions constructed atop them, our so called aesthetics will always be defeated in the struggle.

“In art, substances are spiritualized, media dematerialized. The work of art is therefore a world of signs, but they are immaterial and no longer have anything opaque about them.” If there is substance to Deleuze’s words, then we can only return to our own separate visions, not to seek out beauty, but to look, and to gaze:

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils

lifts, quietly—.  An image enters in,

rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,

plunges into the heart and is gone.

- The Panther

12

“Love Letters” is gone in precisely this way.

2012年5月18 丽江

May 18, 2012, Lijiang

这首诗是悲伤的，因为它想属于你但做不到。

——阿什伯利

“汝一念起，业火炽然，非人燔汝，乃汝自燔。”

 ——《水陆法像赞.下八位.一切地狱众》

1

《 》，隔离和区别其内容，诱使我们阅读，却警惕着一泻如注的看，防止或反对，把话语和话语的形式混为一谈。

蒋志的《情书》，因此，并不是蒋志的情书。

后者属于那个独一无二的受信人，此中的私密结构，其爱意、缱绻、哀求、谴责、呼唤，即逸出《 》的部分，以及有待于拥有者处理——回复？认同？置之不理？——才生发的意义，在作为读者或观众的目光中，是绝对的不可见物。

情书是一赤裸的权力关系，没有第三者的容身之处，爱与被爱，告白与倾听，皆不袒露其内情，不为我们所动。惟有《 》保证了某种绝不暴露灵魂但全身心的“爱”再度逸出，超越施受，降临对此无权力的他者。

我们的感受或疑问，也惟有在这一保证下才能以或丰富复杂或简单粗暴——但绝对自我相适——的纹理现身，对《 》中物毫无羞愧或不适的加以覆盖，补加，比拟。

将之放入《 》，就像赤裸者披上随手抓到的衣裳（甚至床单），然后才肯真正出来和冒失的访问者相见。

在此，是可读性在展现，作品在敞露，文本在绽放，不要求知情者身份的物品在与我们协商，寻求对话，吁求联系，容留我们好奇的目光：看哪，这照片，蒋志的《情书》……

2

《 》也意味着，这里的对象——情书——，这个文本，这件作品，这一现成物：它是展示和公开的，可以查阅的，可以翻过来倒过去看的，可以，而且必须放到一个文体的杂多序列里面，检视其位置，尽可能开放其多义性，而不是一上来就封印它：分类，归档，左上角，第一个柜子，第三格……

开放其文本（作品），是主动句，是向文本发起进攻，迫使它门户开放，是假定一个本身开放的文本并不存在，或根本不予承认：一个超验的“临在”永远不可能不经具体到我的经验而下降为真的“在”：必须“做”艺术，必须动手动脚，要用我的已知和未知条件去解除作品的樊篱，要像性致勃勃的触手类一样去侵犯，要不避其猥亵。

无论这里有什么，必经由我们语言的“使用”，并找到一个“趁手”处，才能在语言的手感中动身到场。

蒋志这22张照片，这叫做《情书》者，我（你）要亲自去上手去建筑它所有的视觉性、意义、美感、观念，特别是，必须在此过程中一边干，一边拆除让它赖以如此被讨论的理论脚手架——除非这般目光如炬，意志坚定，否则事情就是：

它的目光被那走不完的铁栏

缠得这般疲倦，什么也不能收留。

它好像只有千条的铁栏杆，

千条的铁栏后便没有宇宙。

       （Rilke 《豹》  冯至 译）

3

但作品后面是有“宇宙”的，必须有。

而且，这有，还不能用它的视觉美和抒情强度加以搪塞。

越是纯净的视觉感受，越是扑面而来的“知道了”，底下越多沉淀、杂质，我脱口而出的“美啊！”越直接和大声，意味着被拦在这声感叹后面的东西就越广大而沉默。

那么，我必须对蒋志作品这不容置疑的美说的，就必然不再是它的“美”了，我应该先试着收回“美”这个词，给它穿系上贞操带，裹上黑衣，让它继续呆在殿堂里面，为它的据传死了的国王——奥修斯（Odysseus）——守丧。

面前这燃烧着的：花朵、树、石头、器皿、地面、台阶、墙体，以及整个这个：这燃烧着或燃烧的物象及其倒映、成像，及呈现——是哪里与如何震惊了我的呢？是一？还是多？是其一定？还是不一定？是作为照片的忠实还是不忠？是事实景象中那发生过的一幕？还是残念般滞留在此的映像？

啊！？是什么呢？

无数次看过和经历过的“燃烧”，去而复来，熄而复燃，一旦在某个中间时刻停下来，就离开，就脱轨，就残骸一般留在那儿——这本身足以让我震惊吗？不，肯定不是。那是我们对照相术的震惊，恒久的，普遍的，令人厌烦的震惊。

然后呢？是不是亚里斯多德般的“悲剧”？美被毁灭在你面前？也不是！——这里无物被毁，没有两个意愿在角力，虽然我投射这一场景内的知性和常识确实提示我，这意味着这件事：花会在这一燃之后迅速枯萎和蔫菸……但那是并不为我们展现也不递交给我们的另一个世界，这绚烂本身，完美无缺地在着，微微灼热，但并无悲剧现身其中。

指针指向下一刻，但永不抵达。——倾向于只差一点点（芝诺（Zeno）意义上），悬置、不停坠落、永恒回归……紧张感一经涌现，就再也不容其退场和衰减，并不停被新的目光加注却永不提供一个满足或决胜的契机。

是的，有物到达艺术家指定的位置，它被强行召唤和控制在此，以这种形式：你被捕了！但罪名？啊，无可奉告……

4

悲剧没有现身。但K的影子，却似乎毫无预兆的出现了……

照片中有一个K，这或是那个一直缠绕着我们言说——通过本雅明、巴特尔、桑塔格——但从未被清楚表述的魅影。似乎智者们就此达成了一致：嗯呐，不清楚的表述更符合K的本质。

但此刻，《情书》里这几样被召唤到庭的物证：花朵，火焰……在烧灼我的舌头，怂恿我去冒险一说，顶替（冒充）它们去说：为什么呢？为何要把我们从自然之梦里惊醒？为什么把我们从自身存在中生生拽出来？为什么将我们汇集到镜头面前？为什么我被我所不知悲哀和忧郁所笼罩？为什么我被召集到你们审视和质疑的目光底下？

不是这样吗？镜头使怡然自得的物，成了进退失据的物象。

这就意味着，再没有不言自明之物了，这儿的一切都在发出这样的吁求：给我一个说法！

——“你不给我一个说法，我就给你一个说法！”（YJ）

5

在此，我们提及K或YJ的现身，首先是一种社会学的假性关切，其次在意图一种泛文学化的影像评论，其三其四，声东击西移花接木，使踊跃在键盘字码之间的习惯性话语组合自乱阵脚。

话语在这一行（或下一行）倒下和坍塌，言说就从这一行（或下一行）开始。

6

摄影是囚笼。一定存在一场持续性大规模永不间断地抓捕诱捕和定罪。除非来自艺术家的强制（智慧或痴迷也是一种强制力），世上无物具备类似勇气，下定决心成为一个被截留的物像。

这是艺术家当代工作的核心：堵住，封锁，使尽可能多的对象物无法逃往彼岸世界，甚至使彼岸本身滞留于此在和眼前。

7

蒋志抓住的是“火”。

他用致人酩酊的甲醇诱捕对象物身上的火焰，制造了一幕幕无妄之灾。

这“火”是嗜酒的，肉欲的，成瘾的，狄奥尼索斯般的。它在花粉、花瓣、梗与叶、甚至花瓶的表面啜饮，在树干中吮吸，在巨石的每一道裂隙里舔舐，务实每一滴洒落的甲醇都被火舌吸收。

任何时候，当这一酒神之吻离开，它所触抚与拥抱之物，都将随之而去。

这是物我两造这交相焚映的“业火”时刻，微醺、恍惚、仿佛迷醉，短暂而真实。

短暂？是的，短暂。在蒋志作为作品题语使用在此的一首小诗中是这个词在反复回响——因为惟短暂者真实，长生久视之念，本就是人的虚妄。

以此嗜欲之火，蒋志已将情书焚寄并送达了与之暌隔阴阳者，或作为复信，还递给一个漫长的过去时：无论是此是彼，其中真正的词句、私语、祈愿与谴责、惟施受者所知的小小寓意，在艺术家敞在我们眼前的《情书》中，都只以某种零余存在或倒影般在我们目光的烛照下交错显影。它在我们眼前卷曲着展开，其意指早已脱身，或那是一个“倒着走”，面朝我们，但每一刻，都正在退向更远处。

8

炼金术士们相信，火并非像表面看来一样是一种确切的物质，它更多的是所有雌性物质赖以获得其形式的某种雄性原则。（据加斯东.巴什拉）

爱与死以及目光，或许也一种并不总是具有形式的雌物，她们像先知以利亚一样祈求着火的降临。

但在这里，真正的爱与死已在蒋志寄往某处的情书中被涤除和转化，只有那个顷刻以及被延迟和转移到《情书》里的目光假寐于此。

在这照片中，假寐者半睁着眼睛从净火或业火的道场深处微茫地注视着我们探询的目光。这里无物存在，存在的只是物象。

而这作为物象的《情书》，它凝结和聚拢所有时刻于此在：弃守者与怅望者，离开者与将来者，雌雄同体，在此火浴。

9

“花，一切花朵都是火苗——想要成为光的火苗。”这是巴什拉为诺瓦利斯式的幻想者提纯出的公式。虽然《情书》中的花与火焰，除了无物幸免的喻义式相关，对此公式中的浪漫主义召唤并无更多呼应。

地线、楼梯、桌面、墙角，甚至色彩与款式都极其常见的墙纸等空间因素的存在，实际已经告知我们这里的空间属性并非一个超验构成，花与火焰在这些日常生活空间里具有“事件”特征，尽管依旧有某种“奇遇”或“神迹”色彩，但被这些空间的日常属性对之进行了加注，保证这一奇遇场所属于结构主义范畴，以最小差异原则类属于巴特尔所谓的“抓住现实，然后重组现实”序列。

插花或盆植的器物在构图中的存在是这种结构现实的另一重保证，它们甚至也被延烧和吞噬，成为酒神的欲望对象。

而常见于花店，往来在人际礼仪活动中的这些花朵，其显在商品和消费属性，同样加剧着结构意图的复杂程度……

凡此，不是一声多愁善感的叹惋，一句叹词，甚至一种诗化哲学的所有物。它们在稳定和已经完成的意义世界中没有存身之所，而是从自身的这一属性向另一属性甚至其最为边缘最不真实的可能过渡与转移，逃遁，不停脱身，甚至艺术家本人，也可能因为对最初意图的关切而很快被甩在了身后。

10

《情书》十七至二十二。

从室内到户外，从城市空间到自然郊野，从消费物到自在物，甚至试石以火。蒋志擎火流转，面对的是一个完全的不同的空间对象：这里是失控和着魔的土地，在哪怕最低限度的自然中，人的行为和意图都有可能被模糊或篡改。

我们会想起“自焚”这个词和它的意指。我们还会被“纵火犯”这一巴什拉企图给予解决的心理学形象吸引。

但在所谓自然面前，结构的人最终是乏力的，我们只能倾听其中的文化与情感信息，然后像巴特尔所描述的那样，从反方向感受某种“人类的颤动”。

这是鲁迅式的地火吗？抑或某种炼狱的景观？再或者，这流窜在山石树木上的火焰，它是东方式的物哀与幽明？那种语焉不详并有赖于此不详才能被理解事物和姿态？

11

人是一种审美痴汉，这种迷信一旦被艺术或诗歌激活，一切对其他价值的援引和借用都是不恰当的，不管它是生理学、精神分析、还是任何其他出自布鲁姆所谓“憎恨学派”的知识及其工具，哪怕是一丁点，都构成了绝对的冒犯，足以招致决斗般的回应。

但除非我们进入某些特别的情境或者甘愿在逻各斯链条上一脚踩空，并出于主动去质疑基于对颜色、形状、性状进行一系列联想和拟态，继而建立起来的观感，否则所谓我们的审美将在一切决斗中败北。

“在艺术之中，物质被精神化，介质被去物质化。因此，艺术作品是一个符号的世界，但是，这些符号是非物质性的，并且，不具有任何不透明的东西。”——如果德勒兹所言不虚，那么我们只有回到各自的目光，这目光不寻找美，是看，看与凝望：

只有时，眼帘无声地撩起——

于是有一副图像浸入。

通过四肢紧张的寂静——

在心中化为乌有。

    （里尔克 《豹》）

12

《情书》，正是此一乌有。

2012年5月18 丽江

by He Wenzhao

1.

… …

2.

Here the ellipsis is a confession, showing the author is in an awkward predicament. He doesn’t know where to start with and words seem to be frozen on his lips. He hesitates and begins to stammer: “… …”— That’s true. When I think I heard some special sound from his work and fully catch the meaning of it, when I felt so confident and am about to write the essay, all of a sudden I find Jiang Zhi makes me headache, speechless and even nervous. The severity and duration of such symptom even make me doubt if I am actually the most unsuitable candidate to comment on this artist.

After numerous times of revisions, deletions and start-overs, I finally decided to go back to the origin. Once again, I chose the original title that emerged in my mind: It Finally Made “Me” Malfunction. That’s right. It can be seen as a confession by someone with asymbolia. But it also contains another layer of meaning. I want to prove that such a “confession”, a show of “weakness” in a sense, originated from Jiang Zhi’s work.

3.

Except Everything is So Perfect (photography series, 2007), the other two sets of works put on display were exhibited elsewhere before. Light of Transience (video, Dec, 2011) was exhibited in Guanxi: Contemporary Chinese Art twice. Some pieces of the oil paintings series (2010-2011) were exhibited in two group shows this year under the name of Untitled. – Apparently they didn’t cause any anxiety or confusion back then. Light of Transience features Jiang Zhi’s all time subtle and sensitive expression of time and light, and Untitled is a straightforward representation of abstract painting. Things take place as a matter of course.

Then, what makes me feel it so difficult that I finally malfunctioned and was not able to get rid of such an awkward state?

The problem may lie in the fact that I fail to convince myself to fully accept any fixed concept of pure artwork. AnEdenstructure is not tolerable. I’m inclined to put the “me” as a viewer at the position Roland Barthes put forward. Art can manifest any possibilities in its form as freely as it wants even at the furthest margin of the world. Nevertheless, its content would remain in the blank until it meets “me”. The “me” would gradually take the position of “history of psyche” and finally integrate seamlessly into the form manifested by art. – Obviously, some frustration showed up at this point. Jiang Zhi used to entitle the oil painting series Untitled. But later he gave them specific names (Pathetic, Content Control; Void, Try Now; and Page Not Found, Even Darker, etc.) These paintings combated the presence of “me”, making “me” unable to find the position that theoretically, was supposed to pop up. Moreover, as the artist didn’t consider them as abstract paintings, and in fact, they were not abstract paintings indeed, the way of escape for “me” to resort to certain chapters of art history was also cut off.

It’s inevitable that things didn’t take place as a matter of course.

4.

Before the creation of this series, whether it was poetic imagery, straightforward desires, sharp sarcasm about politics and consumer culture or fables alluding to the reality, Jiang Zhi had always engaged himself in the writing of visual prose teeming with power and his signature personal style. In other words, without strong internal force to push him to make a new move, he had every reason to continue and further his exploration in his original visual prose. – If that’s the case, we probably won’t see this recent oil painting series. The “me” of artist is the same as the “me” of viewer: when there’s no obstacle or challenge, self-content is an easily accessible comfort zone.

The changes in the titles of these oil paintings show that the “me” of the artist sank into a state of anxiety and upset. The idea to make such a series originated from the artist’s attention to the problem of overlapping images on his malfunctioned computer. It was the implication he saw from such overlapping images rather than the form or pattern that had caught his attention. To him, such images could be seen as a break, a pause and a protest to those who made the request. In a sense, it’s like a surrender. It was better to acknowledge that to the world I see and even to myself, “I” had no reign. To give in to the state of ownerlessness was a sensible choice to make.

Based on such understanding, now it’s safe for us to say that what Jiang Zhi presents is not “painting”. – Those on the canvas are different aspects of “me”: the exhausted “me”, the distressed “me”, the vacant “me” and ultimately, the malfunctioned “me”.

5.

All that used to be featured in Jiang Zhi’s art, such as light and poetic sense, seems to go into hiding in this new series of oil paintings. The brilliant colors, various lines and maze-like composition all reflect what “I” think about. In a sense, he was both an artist and a viewer during the creation process. The works show what he saw instead of what he created. Page Not Found, Even Darker and Silence, More Search Entries and the like all fall into this category.

6.

As I mentioned before, Jiang Zhi’s art practice can always attract wide attention and stimulate discussion among a wide range of viewers. He’s good at creating a field of discourse, within which his sensitivity and creative representation of “light” is the most eye-catching. Through his years of consistent efforts, he has captured almost all possible properties of light: violent, redemptive, dramatic, poetic, natural and aesthetic…

Compared to Light of Transience, his previous works tended to emphasize more on the sense of interference and experiment. However, the powerful and even somewhat aggressive “me” of the artist is nowhere to be found in the 37-minute video. It gives out a kind of reserved anxiety. In the video, light is no longer an object in the aesthetic sense. Instead, it is represented as a marker of fleeting time. Transient as it is, it helps people to witness in person the existing and yet invisible force.

The video was filmed at the artist’s house. The trajectory of natural light (through a reflection of a piece of glassine) gradually changed as time went by. Sometimes, it looked so beautiful. Sometimes, it looked so complicated. The artist didn’t endue the image with any intentional implication. Neither did he do that to the orchid at the corner. Viewers may sympathize with the subtle and yet inevitable changes, but the video neither encourages nor inhabits such an impulse.

Nothing but the sense of time and its silent endurance is highlighted in the video. Under an intense gaze, the “me” turns to be weak and dim, as if it is running out of sense of existence. Ambience teeming with unspeakable grief and unstableness overwhelms the image, turning any gaze upon it into a kind of transitory trace.

7.

At this point, it seems both the “me” of the artist and the “me” of the viewer show signs of regaining their vitality, which can also be confirmed in Everything is So Perfect. Then it leads us to ask the following questions: What makes Jiang Zhi willing to present the oil painting series that has been kept from public attention for four years? If the “me” inside the artist doesn’t encounter some kind of unprecedented frustration, does he need to put forward another possibility of his art?

Featuring needles and a table (which looks like a piece of canvas), the photography series gives out a sense of order and perfection. Just as the title indicates: Everything is So Perfect. For the first time, the unique poetic sense and intelligence of the artist are embodied in a simple and crisp way.

Needles (3 at the maximum and 1 at the minimum) are ordered in different but simple configurations at the same place of the table and photos are taken from the same angle. If seen separately, the six photos taken this way are six little poems. If seen collectively, they construct a simple and yet elegant prose (featuring more than one narrative). These needles can be deemed as metaphor of human beings. The different configurations of needles correspond to different types of interpersonal relationship. Any changes to the order of the photos would lead to completely different interpretations of relationship. If people are interested in ordered series of numbers, these images can offer them a landscape featuring mathematical logic. If seen from the perspective of abstraction, the right angles, diagonals, straight lines, color blocks, sense of volume and shadows will change according to different types of reading and will lead viewers into utterly different worlds. – Nevertheless, all these complicated orders and possibilities can be restored to a beautiful picture anytime.

The sentimental and poetic sense revealed in the image is both warm and detached. Most importantly, it is colloquial and doesn’t have any grand narrative ambition. Hence, the body movement required to put everything into order becomes a kind of unique grammar at the artist’s disposal and it becomes traceable within the gaze of viewers. Following such movement, viewers gradually feel the presence of “me”, the “me” as an “object”.

Transient as it is, the “me” is present.

And then what? As poet Gu Cheng wrote in Last Words:

Life is simple

Death is simple

Fall into the water

Grow on the trees

He Wenzhao

2011-11-10

1

……

2

在这里，省略号是一个招供，意味着作者的狼狈，他不知道从何说起，欲言又止，或结结巴巴、吞吞吐吐：“……”——这是真的，在我因为自以为听到和理解了其作品中某些特别的声音，并开始信心满满地撰写这篇文章的时候，蒋志突然变得让我头疼、失语、甚至紧张。这一症状的剧烈程度和持续时间，甚至都让我怀疑，自己是否正是评论这位艺术家的最不合适人选。

也因为这样，在几次三番更改、删除、重拟之后，我决定回到原点，重新起用这个最初浮现在我脑海的题目。是的，没错，“终于使‘我’运转不灵”——最低程度，这可视为说示无能者（asymbolia）的夫子自道，但对此一短语，我还另有指望，即证明，这一“承认”，这一“示弱”的声音，同样来自并内在于蒋志的作品。

3

除了《所有的事物是那么完美》（2007  照片系列），这里展示的其它两组（件）作品，都在不同的场合展出过。——《片刻之光》（2011.12 录像）曾两度现身“关系”展，而呈现在此这组布面油画（2010-2011），也有部分作品以《无题》为名，出现在了今年早些时候的两个群展中。——但很显然，它们并没有引起任何人的不安和疑问，《片刻之光》与蒋志一直以来对时间、光线的敏感表达相关，而《无题》，则可以毫无困难的进入抽象绘画的解读程式：这一切看起来都顺理成章。

那么，是什么让我觉得如此困难，以至要一脚踩进“终于使‘我’运转不灵”的逻辑泥潭？

这里的问题也许是，我无法从根本上说服自己顺从一种纯粹作品的观念，不能容忍事情回到一个伊甸园结构，将艺术家提供的景象从流刑地召回，将之安放在一个“无我”的理论殿堂中。相反，我倾向于将作为观者的“我”置于罗兰.巴特式的位置，让艺术在其最为遥远的边际也依旧得以自由地展现其形式，而且只展现其形式，并确定其内容在遭遇“我”之前能一直处于空白与虚位，直到“我”占据了“历史或心灵（psyche）”的位置，并最终溶于艺术家所展开的形式。——显然，这里出现了挫折，蒋志曾经以《无题》名之，而后又以确定命名——《悲怆，内容控制》、《虚空，立即尝试》、《无法访问，更黑》，等等——出现在这里的那些画作，抵制和消除了“我”的到场，使“我”找不到理论上应该随机出现的那个位置，而且因为艺术家并不认为这是抽象画，事实上也不是抽象画，而同时截断了“我”返身向艺术史个别章节请援的道路。

无法加入“顺理成章”的队伍，势所必然。

4

至少在这一组作品之前，无论是其显而易见的诗意，还是不加掩饰的欲望，对政治和消费文化毫不客气的讽喻，甚至不惧其惨烈、痉挛，不详与谶纬的寓言，蒋志在不管何种形式的作品中，都一直在企图并成功的建立其强烈和富有个性的视觉文体。这也就是说，除非有更为强烈的内象相为促迫，他完全有理由顺理成章的延续与深化他的这些文体，编织和拓展其形式的边界，继续引发他者无穷无尽的理论冲动并始终保持其亢奋——而如果这是可能的，他的这组绘画，大约就不会发生：因为艺术家的“我”和观者的“我”一样，当其毫无障碍的时候，对于任何欲念、理论、事件、问题式或征兆，都会其应如响，立刻出之以合理化解读或充分自足的意象。

但就像这些油画前后不一致的命名一样，从无题到有题，从对抽象化解读的沉默到以具体命名的回应，艺术家之“我”显然也陷入了某种焦虑和不安的情境当中。而且，正如这些画面最初源于艺术家对故障电脑出现的拖影现象的注意，但其“注意”的焦点在于这些拖影的意味——即一个暂时的隔离，休克，信息过载以后的一次喘息，休止，一次对予求予取之徒的抗议和怠工——而非其形式美感或图像形态：“我”之不安，“我”的不回应或失灵，也意味着艺术家经历的怨恨憎爱别离在内象中的淤积和堆集已经无从图解，与其勉强维持“我”对内心与物象濒于崩溃的统治，不如还于无主，承认“我”之于“我”，之于“我”所见的世界，除了彼此象征，别无联系或权力关系。

也只有理解了这种象征关系，蒋志所呈现的这些巨幅画面才真正进入可见物的序列，而且这种可见与绘画的必然相关也可以解除无虞，而且进一步的，我们可以放心的指认，这不是“画”。——这是留在画布上，但永远无法成为画的疲惫之我，忧伤之我，空白之我，以及失去指代能力的，终于使我失灵之“我”。

5

光线、诗情，似乎一切在蒋志的艺术中的生效和运行着的元素，在这一组布面油画中都隐匿了，这里的斑斓色彩、丰富线条、迷宫般的构图，都是“我”在想，“我”在以为。而这里的“我在”，是艺术家和观者共构的场域，换言之，艺术家同时也就是观众，不是他创造了什么，而是他看见了什么。他看，及他的看，及他用以对此“看”进行虚拟占有的署名：《无法访问，更黑》，《沉默，更多查询》……

6

就像前面提到过的，蒋志的艺术实践和创作从来不缺乏讨论，甚至相反，其作品总是能引起多方面的兴趣和理论冲动，从最柔软的抒情到最刚性的论断，从艺术批评的考证到社会学者之援引，一个时而杂乱时而澄澈，但始终兴致勃勃的话语场，一直在围绕和伴随其形式的展现，而将倍数于此的“历史与心灵”代入。而其中，尤以他对于“光”的敏感和创造性表述引人注目，在他持续数年的一系列作品中，近乎穷尽了其所有可能的属性：暴力的、救赎的、戏剧和诗意的、自然的与美学的……

此前这些作品，如果与展示在这里的《片刻之光》相比较，似乎都更注重某种干预性和实验感，艺术家之“我”以一种强烈甚至具有侵略性的姿态呈现于此中，这在此一时长37分钟的影像中几乎是看不到的。在这一不安但内敛的作品，“光”不再主要是一种美学主体和对象，而是成为时间与流逝者的惊鸿一瞥。这一瞥的意志动摇生者但也安抚生者，并向感受到这一目光的人提供了某种契机，使得人在巨大的缺失与转瞬即逝的顷刻依旧能够站立，并找到某种尽管虚弱但确实存在的秩序。

在艺术家摄制于家中的这一video中，墙面上的光线（事实上这是一张玻璃纸在自然光条件下的反射）在时间一分一秒的流逝中悄悄改变着形状，它时而很美，时而很复杂，但图案本身并没有被加诸任何表意功能，角落里那盆兰草亦复如此，尽管观者可能会有将之视为自我替身植入这一影像中的恍惚冲动，但它本身对这一冲动既不肯定也不否定。

这里所及的物象，除了时间及其隐忍，别无他物。凝视之下，“我”变得稀薄、黯淡，似乎正在耗尽所有的存在感，而一种巨大和无法找到喻体的伤逝之情与不稳定感，则正在使任何留驻于此的目光变成一种余物和遗留。

7

至此，无论是艺术家之“我”，还是观者之“我”，似乎都正在历劫归来，如果还没有开始有效运转的话，至少也有了某种重新活跃起来的迹象……而正是这征兆，也出现在了蒋志这里首次展示的作品里——《所有的事物都那么完美》，这一作品创作于2007年，但直到四年后的今天，艺术家才找到了一种内在契机以支持他公开这些作品（对此的讨论可以是另一篇论文）。

正如作品标题所示，这组以针、桌角（疑似绷好的画布），以及冷灰色背景墙面作为元素的摄影，无论是其构图、颜色，还是整组作品给人的有序感，都显得极其淬炼和完美，而且蒋志独有的诗意与机智在这里第一次以如此短而响亮的“语法”出现。

在桌面的同一位置，将针（最多时候3个，最少时候1个）以不同的方式排列组合，并以同样的角度予以存照。通过所得的六帧画面，艺术家为观者提供了一种既可独立为诗，又可缀连为文（还不止一种叙述），但其美感却高度抽离而又富有表现的图像。在这些图像中，针可以简单的读解为人的隐喻，如是，针的排列方式便与人的存在关系相关，这里，对画幅顺序的任何一次调整，都可以带出对存在关系截然不同的表述；同样的，如果有人从对其数列的兴趣出发，那么，这些图像也能够提供观者以一个由数理逻辑及其哲学构成的世界景观；而如果把构图与画面元素抽象化，那么无论是以直角、对角线，直线的几何方式，或是从那些色块、体感、阴影的绘图美学，其所抽象的主体对象或结果，随着句读方式的改变，都会将观者带入完全不同的世界中。——但所有这些复杂的序列和可能性，都可以在任何时候还原为一张美妙的照片。

这里的抒情性和诗意，既温暖又冷峻，但绝对口语，也没有任何史诗企图。正因其如此，艺术家对此一一排列所需的身体动作成为一种具有体感和姿态的句法，并在观者对图像的观看中变得可以跟随：通过这种开始只是幽灵般的跟随，观者渐次感到了“我”的脉象，不但在观看关系中作为物象存在，而且，“我”正作为“物”在场。

尽管这一短暂物的短暂在场，可能依旧只是幻象，但至少有一个这样的顷刻，“我”到场了。

然后呢？然后正如顾城所写《绝字》：

生也平常

死也平常

落在水里

长在树上

和文朝

2011-11-10

“If This is a Man” is a memoir by Jewish writer Primo Levi about his experience in the Auschwitz concentration

camp. It begins with a poem. Here are the opening lines:

If This Is a Man

You who live safe
In your warm houses,
You who find, returning in the evening,

Hot food and friendly faces:
Consider if this is a man
Who works in the mud,
Who does not know peace,
Who fights for a scrap of bread,

Who dies because of a yes or a no.

Consider if this is a woman
Without hair and without name,
With no more strength to remember,
Her eyes empty and her womb cold
Like a frog in winter.

…

In this prayer-style poem, the author exhorts the reader to imagine a state of inhumanity. And if we forget this
possibility of existence, may misfortune befall us:“Or may your house fall apart, May illness impede you, May your
children turn their faces from you.” Actually, Primo Levi’s emphasis can be understood as: if we forget this “inhumanity”,

then our existence as “human” is not fulfilled.

But “man” itself is not a self-evident, complete concept. The subjectivity of man posited by enlightenment thought

is constructed atop that single reed, the background of nihility — man as an object. That is to say, you must first posit

man as an object before pursuing the concept of man as man. We may be unclear on what a man is, but we all know

what the state of inhumanity is. As Adorno says: “We may not know what absolute good is or the absolute norm, we
may not even know what man is or the human or humanity — but what the inhuman is, we know very well indeed.”〔1〕
In this sense, “man” always implies where and what man is not, i.e. the presence of the inhuman, to the point that “man”
is nothing more than a witness and ponderer of the inhuman. This is why Primo Levi, as a witness, repeatedly beseeches
us to “consider”.

As for this exhibition however, this “a man” is not urgent about being raised up to “the man” that has been

defined as the ontological subject of thought; instead, it emphasizes a humble perspective of empirical observation and

institutional analysis. Here, “a man” is concrete and multidimensional, and therefore, full of doubts. These doubts touch
on artists, artworks, audiences and the entire system that permeates them all.

Is artist “a man”? It is difficult to provide a clear answer to this question. On one hand, the concept of “personality”
constructed by modernism has already been met with challenges; the use of such techniques as reproduction and
appropriation as well as conceptual art’s discarding of style; such things have already touched on a reconsideration of the
humanism that serves as a backdrop for the concept of “personality.” Meanwhile, more and more art practices — as the
result of the rethinking of such concepts as “personality” and “talent,” we have grown to abandon using the term “artistic
creation” — are no longer completed by a single artist; more and more artistic practices are emerging under the visage of
artist groups, art factories and art companies. Though they still emphasize the individual traits of the artist, this is already
a situation where the artist is turned into an icon or a promotion.

Beyond this, and possibly more importantly, the influence and decisive power of our entire art system — including
production, dissemination, consumption and research — over artistic practices has already far surpassed that of any
single individual. We are facing straits where even the concept of the “artist” may be discarded, because the difference
between an artist and a non-artist is perhaps only determined by whether or not “a man” is — whether actively or
passively — situated within this art system.

In such a situation, the previous images of the artist, such as the prodigy, the lunatic, the nobleman, the hero, the
recluse, the star or the great man, may all face incompatibility with reality. As a result, we trend towards restoring the
specific artist from these masks, returning to the lowest, most mundane and trivial experiences while temporarily setting
“art” to one side, facing only the living world of “a man” that has been disenchanted.

As for the artwork, what relationship does it have to “a man”? The artwork inevitably encompasses “a man”, like
the “man” and “woman” in the opening poem, but it must be emphasized that he/she could come from reality, but could
just as easily be speculative, and he/she is not without connections to the artist. Of course, the relationship between the
artist and “the man” in his artwork is not so much the artist’s connection with his shadow but the relationship between
one person and another and the connection between the individual and the collective. It can also be extended to the
relationship between the artist and the audience.

Under today’s cultural system, the relationship between the artist and the audience has been alienated, becoming a
unidirectional relationship of producing/receiving. For the average member of the audience, the art museum is more of
a place for pilgrimage and to receive education, a place where their own subjectivities have not gained presentation. As
opposed to the legendary subjectivity of the artist, the audience is always the collective, the anonymous, making for an
asymmetry between individual production and collective reception.

It should be noted that the rise of this situation is connected to the construct of the solo exhibition mechanism
within the modern art system. To this day, the large retrospective solo exhibition in the museum is still viewed as the
final crowning ritual for an artist, and the periodic holding of solo exhibitions in galleries is the fundamental path for
the artist’s career development. Whether or not the solo exhibition mechanism can still effectively handle the task of
presenting artistic practice and research is at this point a question that must be discussed. In fact, the discussion about

the concept of the “solo exhibition” is a latent theme of this exhibition.
It is for these reasons that we are now attempting to deviate from the conventional “solo exhibition”. Firstly, this

exhibition cannot be classified as a retrospective exhibition or an exhibition of new works from a particular phase. It
is closer to an art history research exhibition, one which sets out from an abstract theme and examines specific artistic

practices, even though this theme falls on Jiang Zhi. This theme, however, is productive — in comparison to traditional
art history research — or perhaps under our constructed perspective, Jiang Zhi’s past works will be looked at anew.

On the second point, the subject of the exhibition grows more complex. The interaction between the curators, the
museum and the artist have made the subject of the exhibition no longer the artist as an individual but instead a field with
many dimensions. In this exhibition especially, Jiang Zhi takes on multiple identities: the artist as the object of research,
the artist as the subject of practice and as a curator. It is under this last identity that Jiang Zhi has turned the concept of
the “artist” and his persona into the topic of his discussion. Possibly the most interesting, however, is that a fabricated
character, “Mu Mu,” has also entered into the subject of the exhibition. “Mu Mu” can be any person, including a member
of the audience.

In fact, there are four exhibitions under this theme of “If This is a Man”: Jiang Zhi’s solo exhibition curated by the
curators, the “Man with the Eye-White” and “Landscape of the Very Spirit” solo exhibitions curated by Jiang Zhi, and
the “Museum of Mu Mu”. There is no linear relationship of subordination between them.

Under such a construct, who is “a man” is hard to say at this point. Is it Jiang Zhi the individual, Xiong Wangzhou, his
fellow painter from hometown, “Feichang Diyao”, the once closely watched blog ID (of Yang Jia), or “Mu Mu” the doll
and mask? Of course, “a man” can also be an individual connected to Jiang Zhi’s works, such as the poet Forefinger, the
performer Ah-Jiao, or Jiang Zhi’s friends and relatives. “A man” might appear in a written passage, a recorded segment, a
video or a photograph. “A man” could be in the exhibition hall looking at the artworks, or reading this text right now.

Bao Dong

March 2012, Beijing

（ Translation_Jeff Crosby ）

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〔1〕
Adorno, Theodor, Problems of Moral Philosophy [Chinese version]; Beijing: People’s Publishing House, 2008, p. 198

“如果这是一个人”来自犹太作家普里莫·莱维讲述奥斯维辛集中营经历的同名回忆录，开头是一首诗歌，先是这样一段：

安住在温暖屋中的你，

晚上到家有热饭热菜与相迎笑脸的你：

想一想

如果这是一个男人

他在泥水中做工，

他从不知何为安宁，

他为一点碎面包而卖力，

他会因一句“是”或一句“不”而受死。

想一想

如果这是一个女人

没有头发也没有姓名，

没有更多的气力去记忆，

她的眼睛空洞，她的子宫冰冷，

就像冬天里的一只蛤蟆。

⋯⋯

      If This Is a Man

You who live safe

In your warm houses,

You who find, returning in the evening,

Hot food and friendly faces:

Consider if this is a man

Who works in the mud,

Who does not know peace,

Who fights for a scrap of bread,

Who dies because of a yes or a no.

Consider if this is a woman

Without hair and without name,

With no more strength to remember,

Her eyes empty and her womb cold

Like a frog in winter.

…

在这段祈祷文格式的诗歌中，作者要求读者去设想一种非人的状态，而如果我们忘记了这种存在的可能，我们将会遭受某种不幸：“否则，你的屋子会倒塌／你会被疾病拖住／你的子孙会背弃你” （Or may your house fall apart,／May illness impede you,／May your children turn their faces from you.）。实际上，普里莫·莱维所强调的可以理解为：如果忘记了“非人”，我们之为“人”的存在就并不完满。

但“人”本身就不是一个不言自明的完满概念，启蒙思想所设想的人的主体性，是在那根芦苇——即人之为物——的虚无背景上建构的，也就是说，必须设想人之为物的状态，才能去诉求人之为人的理念。而我们或许并不清楚何为人，但我们都知道非人的状况是什么，如阿多诺所言：“我们可能不知道，什么是绝对的善，什么是绝对的规范，甚至不知道什么是人、人性和人道主义，但我们却非常清楚，什么是非人性的。”[1]在这个意义上，“人”总是意味着人的不在与不是，即非人的在场，甚至“人”只不过是对非人的见证与沉思。这就是普里莫·莱维作为见证者为何反复让我们“想一想”。

不过对于这个展览而言，这“一个人”并不急于上升到那个被作为本体论沉思主题的“人”，反而强调的是某种低视角的经验观察与制度分析，“一个人” 在这里是具体而多向度的，因而总是充满疑问的。这些疑问涉及到艺术家、作品、观众，以及贯穿其间的整个系统。

艺术家是“一个人”吗，这个问题难以明确的回答。一方面，现代主义所建构的那种“个性”概念早已遭到了挑战，如复制、挪用手法的运用以及观念艺术对风格的背弃，这些都已经触及到了对“个性”概念背后的人文主义背景的反思。另一方面，越来越多的艺术实践——作为反思“个性”、“天才”观念的结果，我们越来越不喜欢用“艺术创作”这个词了——不再是某一个艺术家完成的了，以艺术小组、艺术工厂、艺术公司的面貌出现的艺术实践越来越多，他们有的即使依然在强调艺术家的个人色彩，但这已经是把艺术家符号化，乃至广告化之后的局面了。

除此之外，更重要的可能是，我们整个艺术系统——包括生产、传播、消费、研究——对艺术实践的影响力与决定权已远远超过了任何一个个体。甚至“艺术家”这个概念也面临着被抛弃的境地，因为艺术家与非艺术家之间的区别或许只是取决于“一个人”是否——不管是主动的还是被动的——处在了这个艺术系统之中。

在这样的情况下，曾经的艺术家形象，如天才、疯子、高人、英雄、隐士、明星、大人物，可能都会有面对现实情况的不适。于是我们倾向于把具体的艺术家从这些脸谱中还原出来，回到最低的，日常而琐碎的经验中，并暂时把“艺术”搁在一边，只面对这脱魅了的“一个人”的生活世界。

艺术作品呢，它与“一个人”是何种关系。艺术作品中也必然包含着“一个人”，如开头诗歌中的“男人”与“女人”，不过要强调的是，他／她既可能是来自现实，也可能是完全虚构，而他／她又与作者不无联系。当然，与其说艺术家与其作品中的那“一个人”的关系是作者与其影子的关系，还不如说是人与他人，以及个人与群体的关系，而在其中也可延伸出作者与观众的关系。

在今天的文化系统下，作者与观众的关系已经被异化成了一种单向的生产／接受，对于一般的公众而言，美术馆更多地是朝圣与受教育的地方，他们自己的主体性并没有得到呈现。对应于艺术家的主体性神话，观众总是群体的、无名的，这里有着个人生产与群体接受之间的不对称。

值得提出的是，这一状况的形成与现代艺术系统个展制度的建构有关，时至今日，在大型的国际美术馆举办回顾性的个展依然被视为是艺术家的最终加冕仪式，而每隔一段时间在画廊举办个展也是艺术家职业成长的最基本途径。然而，个展制度是否依然能有效地担负起呈现艺术实践与研究的任务，在目前已是一个需要讨论的问题了。实际上，对“个展”概念的讨论，也正是这个展览的潜在主题之一。

正因此，我们在试着去区别于那种约定俗成的“个展”。首先，这个展览无法被归类为回顾展或者阶段性的新作展，实际上，它更接近于艺术史研究性的展览，从一个抽象的议题出发去考察具体的艺术实践，只不过我们把这个议题落实在了蒋志这里。但这个议题——相对于传统的艺术史研究——又是生产性的，或许，蒋志过去的工作在我们建构的视角下会被再看一次。

其次，展览主体在这里变得复杂了起来。策展人、美术馆与艺术家之间的互动使展览主体不再仅仅是艺术家个人，而转变成了一个颇为多维的场域。尤其是在这个展览中，蒋志有着多重身份：作为研究客体的艺术家、作为实践主体的艺术家，以及作为策展人。而在这最后一种身份下，蒋志又把“艺术家”的概念与其公众形象作为了他所讨论的话题。但最为有趣的可能是，一位虚构的人物“木木”也加入到了展览主体群之中，而“木木”又可能是任何人，包括任何一位观众。

实际上，在“如果这是一个人”这个主题下有四个展览，策展人策划的蒋志个展，蒋志策划的“白眼人”与“非常地妖的风景”两个个展，以及“木木”的展览，而这些展览之间并不存在线性的从属关系。

在这种结构下，这“一个人”到底是谁？已经难以说得清了，既是蒋志这个人，也是蒋志的画家老乡熊望州，或者“非常地妖”这个曾经饱受关注的博客ID，抑或是“木木”这样的木偶与面具？ 当然，这“一个人”也可以是与蒋志作品相关的个体，如诗人食指、艺人阿娇，以及蒋志的亲人与朋友；这“一个人”可能出现在一篇文字、一段录音、一段影像、一张照片里，也可能，这“一个人”就在展厅中观看这些作品，或者正在阅读这段文字。