Artists

Dusts on the Memory Lane

The memories of my childhood days resemble an antiquated, poor quality, black and white movie broken into pieces with fade-out images. Sometimes, it flashes a blank scene with torn bits of sound attached; sometimes, it blacks out; sometimes, sound turns clear but the images fade; sometimes, only obscure silhouettes with no sound at all. Suddenly, a long shot pushes past the pictures faraway and everything is transformed into a black spot at the end, leaving nothing behind but complete darkness…

Just as one cannot choose his birth, a child cannot choose the environment in which he grows up. These two situations are both controlled by the invisible hands of an omnipotent power. The hands of God gently wave around a person’s life, especially that of a child, and is altered as a result. No matter, if it is a comedy or tragedy, the protagonist is always left feeling helpless, embarrassed and agonised. Without an alternative option, this is a universal truth in everyone’s history.

I am not sure of situations in other countries, but in China, there is always a second living environment. People call these two living environments, “the dual worlds of heaven and hell”, which refers to the stark contrasts between the countryside and city due to their enormous materialistic and cultural differences. Children lucky enough to live in the city never have any connections with village life. They may have heard of some sufferings in the rural area from time to time, but these sufferings are taken as stories from afar. They would never aspire after, or tolerate, that sort of living. Vacations in the countryside may take place occasionally, but it has nothing to do with real living at the countryside. They are treated as relaxation and temporary escape from city life, carrying a touch of romantic and leisurely excitement. The arrangement of “Educated urban youths live and work in the countryside”, during the 1960’s and 1970’s, was merely a political episode in Chinese history. It was more like a rehearsal with a predicted ending, since the misled spirits never overcame the materialistic boundary imposed upon the need for survival. An enthusiastic obsession of false beliefs cannot fulfil the meaning of life, let alone produce a constructive influence on our society. Broken red dreams are naturally followed with the exile of spirits. This is even more helpless and hopeless than the loss of a goal or ideal. The youths are now haunted for the rest of their lives by these bygone days of suffering.

However, things will be different if you live in such an environment since you were a kid. You are one of them, breathing the same air as them, and the instinctive joy of a child can help ignore the dreadful surrounding environment. With identical playmates, clothing, meals and position, days are filled with trivial happiness for the kind of countryside living where there is an extreme shortage of materialistic and spiritual richness - yet life is perceived as spectacular and unforgettable.

Without knowing when, one starts thinking of leaving the countryside. It was just a desire arising out of curiosity, at first wondering how stunning the outside world is. Soon enough, the desire was extended to a fantasy of joining the ‘heaven’ where one could work and live like all others and bid farewell to the current intolerable world forever. In order to realize this dream, I devoted my weary self to many years of hard work, while the stories of cries and sorrows along the path turned into stones, until one day, I triumphed to be a member of heaven. Nonetheless, the joy of my success was short. I realized for many years I was merely running towards an illusion: in reality, heaven does not exist. Living in a prosperous city filled with technological advances, one’s desire for materialistic values are able to expand beyond limit. One strives for endless materialistic gains and excitements, which in turn, has numbed all spiritual consciences. People living a wealthy life become so emotionless and indifferent that they blend well with the cold concrete skyscrapers. The streets are filled with faceless crowds and streams of cars, yet they do not generate a sense of cosy warmth and humanity. Besides, there lies a “rule of life”, in which all must follow like some puppets trying hard to play different roles: speaking script without knowing the meaning of, and repeating, vocabularies with emptiness. However, they can accurately identify themselves with different occasions. From the beautiful lady across the street, to the old man with white beard; from the high status official, to the low rank thief in the streets - all breathe with the repetition of slogans and the wearing of masks, yet surprisingly with pride and honour. People seem to have let go of the values embracing esteem, eternity, purity and holiness. These words become derogative which makes one insincere and superficial. In this weird space of living, you feel tremendously naive and awkward because you cannot find a place for yourself.

You are no better than a puppet.

Being stuck in such a ‘heaven like’ city, and living a meaningless life after quite some time, you would naturally recall that piece of distant, once abandoned, but peaceful and warm soil. Yet, at the back of my mind, I know that the materialistic values have squeezed their way into the corners of the countryside, and I am caught wandering in the middle, lost and confused. In such a state of boredom, painting unreal objects calmed my nerves, and became a venue of escape. Life goes on without caring whether you are feeling happy or inane. As long as you are still breathing you have to count days like all others do. Days go by, yet incomprehension of life accumulates too. As my health is declining, assumption on the meaning of life seems ridiculous, leaving avoidance the only escape from reality at last. However, one has to find reasons and excuses to continue living. As life goes on, shades start to form on canvas and some images begin to replicate after some time. The replications are equally dull, emptily staring at nowhere and not knowing their purpose of living. Why is the world so disturbing?!

I still remember a conversation with Mr. Xu Bing while we were walking along the riverbank of Tai Xin Shan in our hometown in the 1980’s. I had just started to learn painting at that time, and was struggling to get into university in order to escape from the poor living conditions in the countryside. The repeated failure had seriously upset me and the heaven-like world was so far away, so unreachable… Yet, Mr. Xu told me, “though you are eager to leave this place now, one day you will be grateful, and you will miss the days here.” Frankly speaking, I could not grasp the meaning of his words at that time. Today, while I have understood, that wonderful childhood and that peaceful and harmonious space is however lost…

Zhang Lin Hai
Beijing Studio
February 2005