Following the Path Provided by Lockdown

Wang Bing: Scenes: Glimpses from a Lockdown
Maison des Arts de Schaerbeek, Brussels
04.09.20 – 08.09.20

Translated by Duncan Hewitt

‘Lockdown’ has now been named the word of 2020 by the Collins English Dictionary, along with other phrases from the same linguistic family such as ‘coronavirus’, ‘global pandemic’ and ‘social distancing’. In this year that will soon be over, this phrase – indeed all these phrases – have been used with unprecedented frequency around the world; it’s the reality we have lived through for the past year.

It denotes a common experience. This experience goes beyond nationality, race, gender, age and class: it has spread across the widest area imaginable, at the fastest possible pace and throughout, and cannot be diverted by the will of any individual – its durability and ferocity have gone far beyond what almost anyone could have imagined. And significantly, as this year turns into the past, there’s no sign that this experience is coming to an end; indeed, in some regions, such as Europe and America, it’s only intensifying. In the face of this trend, the term ‘lockdown’ has naturally acquired a broader, more profound, significance.

It implies things coming to a standstill, being interrupted. At the level of society, as an emergency measure of control, it inevitably implies a certain sense of anxiety and crisis; on an individual level, it implies solitude – so to discuss the question of freedom at this moment seems like something of a luxury.

But that certainly does not imply that this experience is homogeneous. For this kind of common experience is made up of countless individual experiences. And such individual experiences vary from person to person – so it is only when it is expressed openly that we are able to inspect how the lockdown has been used and perceived, its shape and temperature, where it is leading.

Wang Bing himself used the term ‘Lockdown’ in the proposal for the work he submitted to this year’s Kunstenfestivaldesarts ( KFDA ) art festival, in Brussels. KFDA was founded in 1994. Wang Bing was first invited to participate in 2006, and contributed the original version of his documentary film, Fengming, A Chinese Memoir. This time, his work Scenes: Glimpses from a Lockdown blends performance and video installation. It was originally scheduled to be put on in May, but at that point the pandemic was rampant in Europe, and the whole of society was in lockdown. Finally, as summer turned to autumn, Wang Bing came here during a break in the pandemic. His fourteen-day itinerary for Glimpses from a Lockdown was also in line with the city’s quarantine policy, so he underwent genuine self-isolation throughout the process. His work was included in a section of the art festival called ‘Every Interior has an Exterior’, and consciously or unconsciously became an accurate interpretation of this statement.

The venue where the work was staged was the Schaerbeek Maison des Arts, which was originally the mansion of a nineteenth-century cloth merchant. Although it is now a public space, it still retains the original unpretentious style and welcoming atmosphere of a traditional family home. Wang Bing’s work was housed in a semi-underground space in a row of side rooms beside the back garden. It was spacious and secluded, the surroundings gloomy, rather like a little car park. The only light, which shone through the gaps between the square pillars, emanated from the middle section – this was a specially built temporary studio, and the place where Wang Bing was based.

The studio had been erected against the wall, but was surrounded on its other three sides by a Perspex-like material, giving the whole structure a completely transparent quality – visitors could observe from three sides, and the interior layout and activities of the person within could all be seen at a glance. The space ( around 80 square metres ) was divided up into four functional areas, for working, sleeping and eating, along with a sitting room. The different spaces had brighter or darker lighting as appropriate, and the corners were decorated with plants. This realistic style created an authentic lockdown atmosphere, in which nothing was lacking, but nothing was in abundance. Wang Bing stayed here for five days and nights, with visitors permitted for six to eight hours every day in the afternoon and evening. During these times, he acted out his experience of lockdown during the pandemic for the benefit of the audience.

Actually, ‘acted out’ is not a completely accurate description. Because in the midst of all this, Wang Bing did not attempt any creative reorganisation of his situation. He simply worked and lived as normal. The only difference was that what would normally be his personal space had been shifted to a public venue, and so was opened up to the public gaze, in a plain and unembellished way. Thus, a link between private and public space was created, and in the process Wang Bing’s identity was expanded: he was no longer purely a creator – he also became an element in his own work, and a vital, indispensable element at that. To be precise, in the space provided by this work, he became an object to be observed. Considering that his identity is also that of a filmmaker, this visual relationship involved an inherent reversal – one that enriched the image he has acquired over time, of always observing this world and other people via the lens of his video camera.

But this is probably not important at all. In fact, that kind of classic visual relationship is still embodied in this work. Next to the studio, another broad, sunken space had been separated off with long curtains to create a projection room, where Wang Bing’s video work, Scenes, was being projected on a continuous loop. Its 54 minutes were filmed by Wang Bing in Lagos, Nigeria, late last year. He went there to follow Nigerian migrant Kingsley, as a continuation of the Africa project he had previously begun in Guangzhou, China. This was the first time he had set foot on this continent, which has such close ties to China. Scenes resembles a video diary, preserving some of his first impressions from just after he arrived in this city. And his arrival here was not without its difficulties. In several ‘fixed empty shots’ at the start of the film, the sound of local people trying to interfere and stop him filming can be heard off camera.

More responses came from within the studio, from the two large television screens hanging above the head of the bed. These served as monitors, and were connected to the computer on the desk opposite the bed, continuously showing other footage gathered by Wang Bing in Lagos. He filmed Kingsley’s family, observing their everyday life, and following them around their local community. These various images and sounds from that other place interwove and echoed through the exhibition hall. They did not create a narrative, but they served to open up a different space, along with the audience’s imagination, regarding that space. They provided another location.

This location came from the African continent, but was provided by a filmmaker who is Chinese in identity. It germinated in a lockdown situation, in a place often described as the ‘centre of Europe’. If lockdown is a metaphor, what it shows us is a situation where globalisation has been slowed down. And from a historical and contemporary perspective, this work has undoubtedly used such elements to construct and demonstrate some highly complex and convoluted relationships, in the simplest of forms and the most limited space. These relationships touch upon the current state of geopolitics involving the major powers. They occur in areas where power intersects, and which are capable of destabilising the global landscape. They are real and intense. We may, for example, accept that relations between China and Africa are not just a relationship between those two places, but rather a relationship between China and the world, and particularly between China and the United States. Of course, Europe cannot be left out: since it is a former coloniser, people here were quick to identify this work as dealing with a topic related to globalisation and neocolonialism.

Wang Bing does not agree with such interpretations at all, but he does not seek to dispute them. He simply emphasises his identity as an artist. And as an artist, and thus an individual member of society, his approach and his viewpoint, the things he is interested in, have never been connected to ideology or mainstream power – in other words, he is certainly not a servant of such things. Wang Bing’s twenty-plus years of filmmaking practice have proved that this claim is credible and persuasive.

This is why the presence of Glimpses from a Lockdown in this exhibition space gives one a sense that it contains a pent-up energy, which has yet to be unleashed. It touches on a topic that is absolutely contemporary and profoundly necessary and urgent. In this place, at this point in time, it demonstrates, on an appropriate scale, that even in lockdown, the capability and power to intervene remain intact and undiminished. It is like a faint pathway, which people expect will be extended. It’s an order that is cracking, and one that has yet to be formed; it’s a current that has temporarily stagnated yet cannot be stopped; it’s the difficulty of integrating, and the effort to survive; it’s the uncertainty and the possibility of whether we can coexist, and how to coexist. Art cannot provide the answers to these questions, but this work can bear witness.

沿着隔离提供的通路

布鲁塞尔艺术节
夏比克文化中心,布鲁塞尔艺术节,布鲁塞尔
2020年9月4日-2020年9月8日

 

“隔离”已经被柯林斯大辞典宣布为2020年度词汇,连同与它同一语系的“新冠病毒”“全球疫情”“社交距离”等词语一起。这个词,或这些词,在这即将过去的一年里,在全球范围内,以前所未有的频率被使用,这就是这一年我们生存的现实。

它标示了一种共同经验。这种经验超越了国族、种族、性别、年龄和阶级,以最迅疾的速度,在最广阔的地域展开。整个过程不以任何人的意志为转移,其持久和酷烈的程度也几乎超出了所有人的想象。关键是,这一年正在成为过往,这种经验却毫无终止的迹象,甚至在某些区域,如欧美愈演愈烈。在这种情势之下,“隔离”作为一个关键词,自然获得了更加严峻和丰富的语义。

它意味着停滞,意味着阻断。在社会层面,作为一项应急管理措施,它内在地包含了某种紧张和危机;在个人层面,则意味着孤独—如果此时谈论自由与否,显得有一些奢侈。

但这也并不意味着,这种经验就是同质的。因为这种共同经验是由无数的个体经验构成。这些个体经验因人而异,只有当它被表达出来的时候,我们才得以检视,它在如何被使用,如何被感知,它的形状和温度,它在通往哪里。

王兵直接使用这个词语,作为他提交给本年度布鲁塞尔艺术节的作品方案。布鲁塞尔艺术节创办于1994年。2006年王兵曾得到第一次的邀请。他为此贡献了纪录影像《和凤鸣》的最初版本。此次的《隔离》糅合了行为表演和录像装置,它原计划五月实施,但那时的欧洲疫情汹汹,整个社会都处于隔离状态。自夏徂秋,在疫情的缝隙,王兵终于来到这里。14天的行程为做《隔离》同时遵守这个城市的隔离政策,他经历了真正全程的隔离。他的作品被纳入艺术节的一个子集“每个内部都有一个外部”,并在有意无意间,成为了对于这一表述的精确诠释。

作品展出的场地在Schaerbeek区艺术中心。这里原本是19世纪一位布料商人的宅邸。尽管现在已成为公共空间,它仍保留了最初作为传统家居建筑的朴素风华和亲和力。王兵的作品被安置在后园侧面一列厢房的半地下空间,那里空旷幽昧,周遭暗淡,如同一个小型停车场。穿过方形立柱的间隔,唯有中间部分透出光亮:那是一个临时搭建出来的工作室,也正是王兵所在。

它倚墙而立,另外三面被一种类似有机玻璃的材质包围,整个实体由此获得了完全通透的效果,观者可以从三面观望,其内在的布局和人物行止都一览无余。大约80平方米的面积,被规划成工作、睡眠、餐饮、客厅四个功能区,不同区域有灯火明灭,角落亦有植物点缀。它以写实的风格,营造出了一种真切的隔离的效果,既不匮乏,也不漫溢。王兵在这里停留了五个日夜,每天从下午至晚上,有六到八个小时开放的时间。他就在这些时间里,向观众演绎了疫情期间的隔离经验。

所谓演绎,也并不是一个十分准确的表述。因为王兵在这中间,并没有对这种状态进行创造性的发挥。他只是如常的工作,如常的生活。不同的只是,这片原本属于个人的空间经过了挪移,它被挪移到了一个公共的场域。它因此敞开在公众的视野当中,以一种朴素的,不加修饰的方式。个人空间和公共空间的连接由此产生,王兵的身份也在这个过程中得到拓展:他不再只是一个单纯的创作者,他同时也成为了自己作品当中的一个要素,并且这个要素至关重要,不可或缺。具体而言,在这个作品提供的场景中,他成为了一个被观看的对象。基于他也是一个电影工作者的身份,这种视觉关系包含了一种内在的反转:它丰富了他在时间的过程里形成的,始终通过摄影机的镜头来观看这个世界和他人的形象。

但这也许并不重要。实际上,那种经典的视觉关系仍包含在这个作品当中。与工作室相邻,另有一片下沉的宽阔区域,高垂的帘幕把它隔成了一个放映室,里面正在循环播放的是王兵的录像作品《场景》。《场景》54分钟的长度,是王兵上一年末在尼日利亚的拉各斯拍摄的。他跟随Kingsley来到这里,作为对他之前已经在中国广州展开的非洲项目的延续。这是他第一次踏上这片与中国有深度关联的大陆。《场景》类似一篇影像日记,保留了他最初进入这个城市所获得的一些观感。这种进入并非没有难度。影片开头的几个空镜里,就传出了那些来自画外的本地人干涉和阻止他拍摄的声音。

更多的呼应来自于工作室内部,悬挂在床头上方的两大块电视屏幕。它们被用作显示器,与床对面工作台上的电脑相连,里面正在无间歇的播放王兵在拉各斯得到的更多的素材。他拍摄了Kingsley的家人,看到了他们的日常生活,也随他们进入到了当地的社区。那些来自异域的影像和声音在展厅空间里交织和回响,虽未形成叙事,却足以开启另外一片空间和观者对于那一空间的想象。它们提供了另外一个现场。

这个现场来自非洲大陆,由一位具有中国身份的影像作者提供。它从一个隔离的情境当中生发出来,在一个被称为“欧洲中心”的地方。如果隔离作为隐喻,提示的是一种全球化被阻滞的状态,那么在一种历史和当下的视野里,这个作品无疑通过这些要素,以一种最简单的形式,在最局限的空间,构建并显示出了一些最为复杂和纠结的关系。这些关系涉及此时此刻大国之间的地缘政治,产生在那些足以动摇世界格局的权力交错的领域,它们是现实的,也是激烈的,如果我们承认,中国与非洲的关系,并不仅仅是中国和非洲的关系,它更是中国与世界,尤其中国与美国的关系。当然欧洲也不会被排除在外,作为一个前殖民者,他们直接将这个作品指认为它在处理一个有关全球化和新殖民的议题。

王兵并不同意这种指认,但他也没有辩解。他只是强调自己的艺术家身份。而艺术家作为社会上一个单独的个体,他的方法和角度,他所关注的对象,与意识形态和主流权力,从来都没有关系,意思是,他并不为这些服务。王兵以自己20余年的影像实践,证实了这样一种说法的可信度和说服力。

这是为什么,《隔离》在展厅的存在,会让人感受到,它有未发散的蓄积的能量。它触及到一个完全当下,深具必要性和迫切性的议题。它在此时此地,以一种恰当的规格,证实了即便在隔离的状态下,一种并未减损,仍然具备的介入的能力和力量;又如一条隐约的通路,它的延展性令人期待。那是正在裂解,尚未形成的秩序;那是暂时停滞,却无法阻止的流动;那是融入的难度和生存的努力;那是可否共存,如何共存的未知和可能。艺术无法为此提供答案,但作品可成为见证。