感謝參加的來賓，大家的參與讓“風夜狂想曲”此展覽上完美的經驗！謝謝！展覽將持續到11/25 ~歡迎大家蒞臨參觀！／Thanks everyone who came to the opening! You made it such a wonderful experience! I have absolutely no words to express what an awesome night it was! The exhibition runs through November 25th! ／Gracias a todos los que pasaron por la apertura de la exhibición! Realmente hicieron de ella algo hermosísimo! No tengo palabras para describir lo fantástico que fue! La exhibición queda inaugurada hasta el día 25 de noviembre!
風夜狂想曲 Rhapsody on a Windy Night
Marina Burana solo exhibition 明蓮花個展
2018.11.03 － 2018.11.25
Opening 開幕茶會：11.03 (六) 17:00
Venue 展覽地點：新樂園藝術空間 SLY art space
Address 地址：台北市中山區中山北路二段11巷15-2號
No. 15-2, Lane 11, Section 2, Zhong Shan N. Rd., Zhongshan District, Taipei, Taiwan.
Music 樂手: Musa の大里 Trio / Ing Lan Chang (flute 長笛）
Photography 攝影師: 黃昱寧 Carol
Video 視頻: Martin Kuo
Catering 餐飲業: La Caja de Música 樂盒子
Souvenirs 紀念品: 饞工坊 Antojos De Estrella & Marina Burana 明蓮花
詩讀 Poem read by: Amber Ma
－－－－－
風夜狂想曲-介紹
「風夜狂想曲」是T.S. Eliot的詩。這首詩是本系列畫作背後的靈感來源，所以我選它作為這次展覽的名稱。
這首詩講述某人夜裡在街上徘徊、迷失在自己的思緒，他看著自己周遭的世界，而他也是這個世界的一部份。詩中描述了記憶等短暫的東西、存在的肉體性(也就是物質世界)之間的拉扯。這首詩感覺像是擺盪在記憶之流和家庭生活之間的一支舞(或是如我剛才所說的，是一種拉扯)，它時不時會打斷陳述者的遊蕩，因而創造出一些揮之不去的物質與非物質意象。
十二點鐘。
沿著掌握在月光合成中的
街道的各處地方
在悄悄施展著月亮的魔術
消融著的回憶的立足點
以及所有它的清楚關係
它的各種分歧與準確性,
我經過的每盞街燈
像一面決定命運的鼓在敲響,
而通過那些黑洞洞的空間
午夜在搖撼記憶中過去的一切
像一個瘋子搖撼一株死了的天竺葵。
我徘徊在這首詩裡時，感受到一股衝動；我想重新定義某些意象，把它轉化成我自己的回憶和事實。我私密的存在論。
記憶無情地拋出的
是一堆扭曲了的東西;
海灘上一根扭曲的樹枝
已沖得光而且滑
好像世界暴露了
它骷髏的秘密
僵直而白。
我在讀這首詩的時候，腦中馬上浮現了海的意象。我和海洋一直有很深的緣份。我人生大部份的時間都在凝望廣大的海洋或悠游其中。我們游泳時一進到水裡，彷若就和外界、和水面上的一切隔絕開來了。忽然間，各種聲響都變得模糊、扭曲，我們的視線也不若在陸地上時那麼清楚。身體感覺變輕了，一切感覺都像在夢境裡。現實以新的樣貌呈現，我們隱約感到回到水面呼吸的需求；這些都和回憶相似。當我們進到裡(遊走在我們自己的回憶裡)，水面(物質世界)看起來就像存在於另一個平面，那是我們很快就會回去的地方，但我們其實可以在水下再待久一點，探索無邊的未知，還有那可能會讓我們窒息或帶給我們喜悅的神秘宇宙。
我發現了回憶和水下世界之間的關聯，並起把它們轉化成我的畫作，它們的共通點就是流動變化的色彩和各種交錯的形狀，就像無情地拋出一堆扭曲東西的記憶。
我很早就決定不要把重點放在詩中呈現的回憶和物質世界之間的拉扯，還有兩者的似非而是的並存關係。我想探索回憶所帶來的複雜意象，還有它們的流動和軔性。
上述兩個主題(回憶和物質世界)間的拉扯在詩的結尾找到答案。詩中的主角感到沮喪挫敗，他的存在是無可避免的現實，他只存在於無限循環的過往畫面和快速萎縮的肉體之中。
燈說,
“四點鐘,
這裡是門上的門牌。
回憶!
你掌握鑰匙,
那盞小小的燈在樓梯上留下一個環形。
登樓。
床是鋪好的;牙刷掛在牆上,
把鞋脫在門口,睡吧,做好一輩子的準備。 ”
利刃的最後轉動。
但這首詩同時也展現了物質世界和精神世界有多麼交錯不清。一方面有牙刷、鞋子，「為生活準備」等屬於有限世界的東西，但另一方面又有睡眠、黑暗、無意識等閉上眼睛進入最高深莫測的心靈狀態這樣的東西。在在都留給讀者一股無力感，讓他們看到到頭來物質世界還是戰勝了心識偶爾會踏上的道路；一條不切實際、沒有結果的路。
這種複雜的關係成為我畫作中拉扯/舞蹈的根基。但當我投入創作過程時，這股拉扯變得不再那麼重要，我轉而探索另一層拉扯關係：用顏色親密的舞動代表回憶。
我認為這次的展覽是在歌頌個人心靈的神遊。
Rhapsody on a Windy Night－Introduction
“Rhapsody on a Windy Night” is the title of a poem by T.S. Eliot. I chose this title as the name of my exhibition because I was inspired by this piece to paint this series of paintings.
The poem talks about a person wandering through the night, lost in thought, a mere witness and also part of the world around him. It describes a struggle between the most transient of things, memory, and the physicality of existence, the material world. It feels like a dance (or, as I said, a struggle) between the flow of memory and the domesticity of life, which interrupts the wanderings of the narrator, creating, thus, a convergence of material and immaterial images that somehow haunts him.
Twelve o'clock.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Dissolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium. (...)
As I wandered through the poem, I felt the urge of redefining certain imagery, to translate it into my own personal world of memory and facts. My intimate ontology.
(…) The memory throws up high and dry
A crowd of twisted things;
A twisted branch upon the beach
Eaten smooth, and polished
As if the world gave up
The secret of its skeleton,
Stiff and white. (...)
One element that immediately came up in my mind as I read the poem was the sea. I have always been deeply connected to the sea. I spent most of my life looking at the immensity of the ocean or swimming in its waters. When we swim, once we are underwater, it's as if we were no longer connected to the outside world, with what happens on the surface. Suddenly, the sounds are muffled, distorted. What we see is not as clear as what we see on land. Our bodies feel lighter and everything somehow seems like a dream. Reality takes on new dimensions and then there's the looming need to go back to the surface to breath. Kind of like memory. Once we are underwater (“wanderers in our personal memories”) the surface (“the material world”) seems something that's in another plane of existence. Something to what we will go back sometime soon, but that can actually wait a little longer as we explore the vastness of the unknown, of that enigmatic cosmos that has the potential of killing us and also giving us joy.
The connection I find between memory and being underwater translated into these paintings, whose common thread is the flow of changing color, the intermingling of shapes and forms, just like memory, which throws up high and dry a crowd of twisted things.
Early on, I decided not to focus on the struggle between memory and the material world, their impossible cohabitation, as it is presented in the poem, and, instead, try to explore the complicated flow of images that memory brings, their movement and their resilience.
The struggle between the two topics mentioned above (memory and the material world) finds its resolution in a sort of frustration or defeat experienced by the wanderer at the very end of the poem, the unavoidable reality of his existence, that of being a blur in an endless cycle of dead images and a rapidly waning materiality:
(…) The lamp said,
"Four o'clock,
Here is the number on the door.
Memory!
You have the key,
The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair,
Mount.
The bed is open; the tooth-brush hangs on the wall,
Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life."
The last twist of the knife.
But at the same time it shows how inextricable the material and the immaterial worlds are: on the one hand, the tooth-brush, the shoes, “preparing for life”, that is, things of this finite world; and on the other, closing the eyes, entering into the most unfathomable state of mind: sleep, darkness, unconsciousness. It leaves the reader with a sense of hopelessness, somehow. It shows how the material world, at the end of the day, wins over the unsubstantial, over the fruitless paths the mind takes sometimes.
This inextricable relation was the one that prepared the ground for the struggle/dance that appeared in my paintings. But as I got lost in the process, this struggle became tangential and gave way to the exploration of another struggle: the intimate dance of color as a representation of memory.
I would say this exhibition is a celebration of the personal wanderings of the mind.
