后记 | Afterword
冰封而虚空的土地
施瀚涛
陈荣辉在多次访谈中都提到，这一东北系列作品的创作有两个缘由。一个是他很久前读到的萧红的小说《呼兰河传》。他说自己“从小在浙江省南部的一个小镇长大，无法想象这个遥远的冰封之地的样子，同时也被它深深吸引”。另一个出然是因为他在媒体工作，对社会议题特别敏感，充满兴趣。他过去已经创作了《石化中国》和《脱缰的世界》等讨论工业化和城市化的系列作品，而今天的东北无疑是观察中国社会转型的又一个重要样本。从萧红那部小说算起，这片土地一直是历次社会变革和话语书写的对象。仅从1949年之后的历史来看，它曾被誉为“共和国的长子’是国有重工业的基地。改革开放短暂兴盛之后，它又经历了最激烈的国企改革和职工下岗。新世纪的“东北振兴”政策没能挽救经济下滑和人口外流，但过去几年，它又突然占据了网红直播的半壁江山。
所以，2016年当陈荣辉遇到一个其他项目需要去东北，就立刻欣然接受了，并背上了笨重的8*10大画幅相机。但他其实面对着两个不同的东北。一个是“遥远的冰封之北”它类似于我们熟悉的那首诗所设定的关于北方的浪漫想象，是“山舞银蛇，原驰蜡象......江山如此多娇”(尽管他写的本不是东北，但在南方人的脑海里，长城之外大概如此）。而另一个是在电影《铁西区》《钢的琴》，或者《老唐头》《白日烙火》里看到的现实的东北：个人家庭、企业和社会经历着种种纠缠和魔幻的故事，而柴米油盐的日常也依然在继续。陈荣辉连着四年都选择在最寒冷的几个月去拍摄他的《空城计》单从这一点就可以知道，他显然放不下心里那个“遙远的冰封之地”他最终呈现给我们的这一系列风景和肖像照片大多明亮而鲜艳，湛蓝的天空和雪白的大地，所谓“银装素襄，分外妖娆”。但同时他也说，我觉得只有这些鲜艳的色彩才可以充分反映当下这个我们看似丰富多彩的世界其实残酷而叉孤独。显然他想把这两个东北编织成一个属于他自己的叙述。
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可能是因为大量室外的雪景又人烟稀少，陈荣辉的照片首先让我们感觉到的是这片冰没的土地上的寂容和静止。艺术家选择了端正的构图，画面元素和结构也被控制得直白而简练，几乎排除了任何情节过程或者动态的内容。比如其中一张小公园的照片，一个顶部装饰成火箭形状的亭子安静地矗立在一小片落了叶子的树林中。这张照片拍摄于富拉尔基，它所属的齐齐哈尔是最早“解放”的城市之一，它本身也是中国最大的重型机械集团“第一重工”的所在地。亮得发白的阳光让整个画面显得很轻，感觉不到这个城市的应业站型和人口流失所带来的沉重现实。顶部火箭的装饰是典型的关于社会主义工业建设的美学语言，但是它所喻示的这里曾经有过的梦想，却好像被遗忘在这片没有人的稀疏树林里了。
像这样的遗留物及其所散发出的停滞的气息也常出现在陈荣辉的其他照片里。比如那个毛泽东在阅读的坐像，烟囱、机械设各和电线杆撑起一片雪后阴郁的后工业背景，故事的主人公和场景被剪贴在一起，可是场景里的那些工厂已经悄无声息。还有离我们今天更近一点的故事，比如被选弃在雪堆里的迪斯科灯球，它早已不再发亮，只是微弱地反射着雪地里的光，好像三十年前年轻人眼睛里还残存着的一点点光彩。这些照片里的遗留物，宣告着这里发生过的一切，和这一切的结束。正如公共空间里正在褪色的或蓝或绿的护墙漆，提示着历史和时间的停滞。
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徐了冰冻、遗留和停滞，这个系列的很多照片还给人以虚空的感受，比如数百米无人的冰封河面，或者空无一物的礼堂。一张在伊春拍摄的照片，一排破旧的门在寂静的雪地里并排树立成一堵墙。陈荣辉说，那一整片地方已经被拆迁，但个别的村民不想离开，他们用别人家道弃的门窗暂时隔出了一个院子。可以与之相对应的是另外一张同样拍摄于伊春的照片，新建造的居民楼在夕阳逆光下色彩鲜艳，像漂亮的积木。但因为很多当地人都离开了家乡，这些新造的房子大多空置照片里看不到任何人们活动的痕迹。这些像空壳一样的房间，或者是那条搁浅在冰封江面上的龙舟，再或者既可以办婚礼又可以开党代会的礼堂，它们从一个地方瞬问变成了一个空间，地方蕴籍着人们的生活，而空间只是抽空了意义的物理上的存在。
这种虛空不仅仅在于景和空间，也在于物和人。比如那一袭挂在树上的朝鲜族服装，它是一位主播的备用服装，不管它是刚被脱下或者将要穿上，在那一刻，它是一架表面,点缀着花纹的外壳。该系列标志性的那张照片中是一个94岁退学的男孩子，他通过网上直播反串演来养活自己。在一场表表演之后，他坐在花布沙发里，背后那面紫色的墙把他衬托得特別落寞。陈荣辉说，他在网络上有一百多万粉丝，但在现实生活中却几乎没有朋友。而那位靠在自己车后备箱上抽着烟的女孩子则幸运的多。她在外地读大学即将毕业，父母给她买了车，希望她毕业后回家乡工作。但在看过外面广阔的世界之后，她忧虑于是否能在这里找到适合的工作和感情。还有那个坐在宾馆床上刚刚起身的男孩子，白天打工，晚上在网吧里打游戏、过夜，只有在太累的时候，才会找个便宜的宾馆睡上两觉。对很多这样的年轻人来说，生活就是过完眼前这一天完全无心考虑明天或者未来。对于一个人来说，无论有没有自主地意识到，当他的精神从身体上被清空出去的时候，身边的世界就成了一片虛空，身份也无所归依。
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物品撤空了，人离开了，意味的是一段关系、一个故事、一场表演，或者说一段历史的结束。而反过来，历史停止了，人们就陷入了一个被抽空了意义的空间里。陈荣辉呈现的是一个看不清楚的东北。我们看不清楚里面人物的命运，他们也难看清自己，更别说这片土地的未来。我想这也正是陈荣辉在作品自述中提到的那种不确定的感受。但是这种不确定和看不清却被艺术家用8*10的大画幅底片特别清晰地传递了出来。在有些眩目的光线和色彩之下，这片冰封的大地漂浮在停滞和虚空的气氛里。
有意思的是，在和海杰的一次访谈中，陈荣辉说到，“我虽然生长在南方，但是我确实和东北的收缩城市以及那里的年轻人产生了共鸣。这种心理层面的共鸣很悲观，本质上，我想是我在逃离。” 陈荣辉出生在浙南山区的小城，在外地读大学，之后逐渐迁往杭州、上海等大城市工作，现在美国求学。他所说的自己的逃离在我的理解里，一方面是一步步地离开曾经居留之地，离家乡越来越远；而另一方面，他去东北并在那里找到共鸣，则又可以被看作为一个反向的逃离——逃离现在，反而在一片不确定的土地上找到了认同。这让我们看到陈荣辉的东北所具有的普遍性。这个东北以及它所代表的身份和意义的不确定在在于今天中国的各个地方，城市或农村，小镇或都市。这也让我想到了贾樟柯早期的几部电影，此如《小武》《任道遥》和《站合》。上世纪八九十年代的西北小城汾阳，它喧闹和嘈杂的背后又何尝不是冰封的东北土地上的停滞和虚空，以及一群在身份和意义上流离失所的年轻人？所以陈荣辉的东北故事讲述的就是他自己的以及我们共同的故事，是当代中国社会的一个侧面。
笔者无意将陈荣辉的照片曲解为单一的对于困境的隐喻，实上，他肖像作品里很大一部分对象都显得平静而从容。那对在室外铁楼梯上轻轻拥在一起的双胞胎，或者那位侏儒和搂着他的女孩子，还有那个酒吧老板，或者瞒着父母晚上出来跳舞挣钱的女孩，他们直视镜头的眼神里都带着自信和温情，也表现着彼此间的依靠和连接。但谁都逃脱不了那样的时刻，像那位14岁的反串主播一样，在直播里躁动的音乐和冰封而虚空的土地的间隙中，突然陷入某种情绪或精神上的奢困。陈荣辉和海杰在访谈里没有说到的是，“空城计”除了是逃离，还有伪装和孤注一掷。就如同那张艺术生的群像，年轻的目光里的一点故作镇静显得可爱，但广告布里光鲜的现代城市边上却漏出了染乱的现实，戳穿了伪装。陈荣辉为今天的东北画的一幅色彩冷峻，笔触坚硬肖像。它会被夹在历史的书页里，未来某一天回看今天的中国，一定会翻到这条生动的注解。
Frozen Empty Land
Shi Hantao
Chen Ronghui has spoken during multiple interviews about what led him to create Freezing Land, a series of photographs about Northeast China. First was the novel "Tales of Hulan River" by Xiao Hong. "Growing up in a village in the south of Zhejiang province, I couldn't imagine what this distant, frozen land looked like," Chen explained. "But at the same time, I was deeply attracted to it." The second reason came from working in the media, which gave him a sensitivity to social topics and strong desire to learn more. In addition to this series on Northeast China, two of Chen's previous photographic series, Petrochemical China and Runaway World, focus on industrialization and urbanization and are important examinations into the country's social transformation. Ever since Xiao Hong's novel, this piece of land has been constantly changing and much has been written about it. Looking solely at its history since 1949, the region was hailed as the "Republic's eldest son" because of its role as China's base for heavy industry. The national reform and opening-up in 1978 brought a short economic boom, followed by sweeping reforms of state-owned enterprises and wide-scale layoffs. In the 20th century, a plan to revitalize the region has been unable to rescue its declining economy and exodus of people. However, Northeast China has recently managed to make a new name for itself with the huge popularity of internet live streamers from the area.
As a result, back in 2016, Chen gladly accepted an assignment in the area, lugging his 8x10 large format camera with him. Once there, he was faced by two different Northeast Chinas. The first was a "distant, frozen land," akin to the romantic imagery found in Chairman Mao's amous poem: "The mountains dance like silver snakes/ And the highlands charge like wax-hued elephants.. This land so rich in beauty." Although not written specifically about the Northeast, these lines encapsulate the area north of the Great Wall in the minds of many southern Chinese. The other Northeast China he encountered was the realistic portrayals found in the films "West of the Tracks," "The Piano in a Factory," "Shattered" and "Black Coal, Thin Ice," which teature difficult and magical stories about individuals, families, enterprises and society as daily life continues around them.
Chen Ronghui completed Freezing Land over three winters, visitne during the coldest months of the year. This fact by itself reveals how much he was drawn to that "distant, frozen land." In the end, the majority of his landscapes and portraits are both clear and brightly colored; the azure skies and white carth embodying the poetic phrase clad in an enchanting silvery-white." But at the same time, he also explains: "I feel that only the bright colors are able to fully reflect the fact that our seemingly colorful world is actually a cruel and lonely place." It's clear that Chen wants to weave these two versions of North- east China into a narrative of his own.
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Perhaps it's the large areas of snow and lack of people that give Chen Ronghui's photos a sense of loneliness and stillness on first sight. Chen opted for upright compositions, controlling the elements and structure in a straightforward and concise way, excluding almost any sense of plot or dynamic content. One image, for example, of a pavilion in a park with a rocket decoration on its roof stands quietly amid bare-branched trees. The photograph was taken in the Fularji district of Oiqihar, one of the first cities in China to be "liberated" and home to the country's largest heavy machinery works. The white sunlight gives the entire pic- ture a sense of lightness, belying the heavy reality of the city's industrial transformation and population loss. Meanwhile, the rocket motif is typ- ical of the aesthetics used during the construction of socialist industry, but the dream it once symbolized seems to have been forgotten here in this sparse, deserted forest.
Relics like this, and their air of time standing still, can be found in many of Chen's other photographs. For example, in one image of a seated statue of Chairman Mao, the chimneys, machinery and electricity pylons hold up a gloomy post-industrial setting after a snowfall. The protago- nist and the scenery have been cut and pasted together, but the facto ries in the background have already fallen silent. More recent stories can also be found in his works. A disco ball abandoned in a snowdrift no longer shines, faintly reflecting the snow around it, like the remnants of light that could be found in the eyes of the young people here 30 years ago. The remains within these photographs speak for all that hap pened here, and explain that everything has ended - like the faded blue or green paint on the walls, which were typical colors used in public spaces during the Cultural Revolution period.
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In addition to the cold land, old remains and a sense of time standing still, many of the images in the series - such as one of a frozen river or another of an empty auditorium - give a feeling of empiiness. In one picture taken in the city of Yichun, a row of rickety old doors stand side-by-side in the silent snow. Chen explained that the entire area had already been demolished, but some villagers didn't want to leave and so created a makeshift courtyard using the abandoned doors and windows from the homes of others. In contrast, another photo also taken in Vichun, shows brightly colored new-build apartment buildings lit from behind by the setting sun, resembling a beautiful toy-block building. However, so many locals have now left their hometown that these newly built homes are mostly empty, and the image shows no sign of life. These shell-like buildings, like the dragon boat stuck in the frozen river, or the auditorium that doubles as a venue for weddings and Party con- gresses, suddenly transform from a "place" into a "space." The place is imbued with people's lives, whilst the space only exists physically and has been emptied of meaning.
This kind of emptiness is not only present in the scenery and spaces, but also in the objects and people. For example, a Korean-style dress hanging from a tree is a costume belonging to a live streamer. Whether it has just been taken off or is about to be put on, at that moment in time it is a decorated outer shell. The iconic image in the series shows a 14-year-old boy who dropped out of school and supports himself by live-streaming drag shows. He is pictured post-show sitting on a sofa, the purple wall behind him accentuating his loneliness. Chen says that this boy has over a million followers online, but few friends in real life. The girl smoking a cigarette leaning against the trunk of her car was much luckier. She left home to study at university and will soon gradu- ate. The car was a gift from her parents who hope that she will return home to work after graduation, but after opening her eyes to the world outside, she worries whether she can find a suitable job or relationship there. Then there's the boy sitting on a hotel bed having just woken Up. He works during the day, playing video games during the evenings at an internet cafe, where he usually spends the night. Only when he's really tired will he look for a cheap hotel to sleep awhile. For many Young people like these, life is about getting through each day without a second thought of tomorrow or the future. Whether consciously or 10t, when people are depleted of their spirit, the world around them becomes empty and their identity has nothing to support it
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Objects were removed, people departed; all these imply the end of a relationship, a story, a performance, or a period of history. Yet in con- trast, when history stops, people fall into a space that has been emptied of meaning. Chen Ronghui presents a Northeast that is unclear. We cannot see the fate of the characters and they struggle to see them- selves, let alone the future of this land. I think this is exactly the "sense of uncertainty" that Chen Ronghui mentions in the introduction to his series. However, this uncertainty and unclarity is captured and con- eyed by the artist in his large 8x10 negatives. Under the bright light and dazzling colors, the frozen earth drifts amid an atmosphere of stag- nation and emptiness.
In an interview with the influential critic Hai Jie, Chen said, "Although I grew up in the south, I really resonate with the shrinking cities and the young people in Northeast China. This kind of psychological resonance is very pessimistic. Essentially, I think I'm running away. " Chen Rong-hui was born in a mountainous village in southern Zhejiang province. After graduating from university, he gradually made his way to Hang- zhou, Shanghai, and other cities for work, and he is currently studying in the United States. The way I understand it, his statement about escaping means moving step-by-step away from the place where he once lived, farther and farther from his hometown. On the other hand, he travelled to the Northeast and found resonance there, which can be considered as a "reverse-escape" - in other words, escaping from the present but finding recognition in an unfamiliar land. This shows us the universality of his Northeast China. In fact, this uncertainty of identity and representation exists in every city, town and village across China today. It reminds me of the early films of director Jia Zhangke, such as "Xiao Wu," "Unknown Pleasures" and "Platform." Weren't the factors behind the bustling small city of Fenyang (Jia's birthplace) during the 1980s and 90s the same as those behind the stagnation and emptiness of the frozen Northeast - as well as the loss of identity and meaning in the lives of a group of young people? As such, Chen Ronghui's story of Northeast China is at once his own and yet also our common story. It is one aspect of contemporary Chinese society.
It isn't my intention to interpret Chen Ronghui's photographs as a single metaphor for the plight of Northeast China. In fact, there is a tranquility and calm in most of his portraits. The twin girls holding each other on a staircase, or the little person and the girl with her arm around him, as well as the bar owner, and the girl who sneaks out at night to dance for money - all of them look straight into the lens with confidence and warmth, showing their dependence on and connection with each other. But none of them can escape that kind of moment, such as when the 14-year old online drag show performer suddenly falls into an emotional or psychological quandary between the resiless musie of his livestream and the frozen, empty land. What neither Chen Ronghui or Hai Jie said in their interview is that in addition to escape, Freezing Land also contains ideas of pretense and gambling. One exam- ple is the portrait of a group of art students. The slight pretense of calm in the eyes of the youngsters is endearing, but the advertisement banner behind them with the image of a bright modern city is damaged at the bottom, revealing a messy reality that punctures their disguise. Chen Ronghui has painted a cold hard portrait of Northeast China today. It is like a footnote that vividly describes today's China added to the pages of the history books, which people will no doubt examine when they look back in the tuture.