Photos by 叶昕

仍在继续的记忆 | The Ongoing Memory

时间的本质是什么？ 1889 年，亨利·柏格森 (Henri Bergson) 专注于研究人类对时间的感知，它是受我们内心体验影响的东西。[I] 他的“纯粹持续时间”概念是直接意识所体验到的，例如，当听到旋律或看到流星时，在生活体验的时刻，头脑记录在过去和现在的连续融合中，而不是像连续照片中静止图像的特定的时间和空间点。柏格森关于持续时间的想法就是当人们看着糖溶解在一杯水中，等待它变成含糖饮料时的那种体验。在这里，等待这种转变的高度感知创造了持久时间的物理体验，暗示身体是感官和随后记忆的常驻宿主。[II] 一个人对事件持续时间的感觉。这个概念可以用于研究Lydia Goldblatt的近期作品，其中感知位于记忆的尖端。

在考虑Goldblatt的名为Still Here的系列时，一幅双联画展示了水坑同一表面上的时间点：第一个是秋天树叶的静止反射，第二个图像被表面上的雨滴轻轻地模糊了。秋天的午后是怎样一种体验？思想在这些时间观点之间去哪里？确实，这种经历的活生生的记忆有多久了？一只蜷缩的蜜蜂的图像吸引了人们的调查，它光彩夺目的毛皮在一个小太阳陷阱中熠熠生辉。光线穿过它现在不会飞的翅膀，诗意地引用了Goldblatt附近几页照片中闪闪发光的阳光窗帘。这只蜜蜂躺了多久，让我们无休止的凝视？它曾经有过威胁性的刺痛吗？这就是我们所记得的吗？

据说照片没有记忆；更确切地说，它是记忆本身的物质表现。'[III] 相机记录时间并使其成为物理，捕捉瞬间进入过去的时间，就像记忆是从现在的感知中创造出来的。Goldblatt表示，她对当我们意识到自己在时间长河中仅拥有短暂的跨度之后随之感受到的时间的坍缩和暂停很感兴趣……时间可以加速，冲向终结，但同样停止，慵懒和静止闪烁。[IV] 一个人如何处理对别人的面孔，他们的目光，当1764年，伊曼纽尔·康德描述了遇到崇高事物的现象，例如看到风暴或山脉等巨大而强大的事物。康德认为由此产生的情绪会被一个人的认知所抵消，最终化为一股能量的涌动，给观众一种愉悦的感觉。但它不仅仅是愉悦，正如康德所说，[它]他崇高的动作，美丽的魅力...... 崇高...有时伴随着某种恐惧或忧郁；有时只是带着安静的惊奇。'[V] 凝视艺术家父亲皮肤特写所营造的壮丽风景，人们可以看到眼帘、精致的睫毛和神秘的褶皱和凹陷成为想象中的山谷、沙丘和草原——整个地球都被阳光照亮。Goldblatt的相机成功地为身体的短暂之美创造了一个持久的记忆，同时明确了柏格森寻求理解“持续时间：积累许多用来等待、存在、分享的“非片刻”，时间标志着记忆的流动性——花半小时研究完美的鼹鼠或蜜蜂很容易看起来像一瞬间。如果没有相机的帮助，这些图像都不可能被保留为记忆，也没有关于他们按时间顺序逝去的线索。相反，人们可以看到一个永远处于“被捕获”的的柏格森式“现在”的多个时刻打开了貌似与Goldblatt的无限小的相机快门速度相悖的崇高的景观。

观众是否能获得艺术家在自己家中创作这些作品时所拥有的记忆？家经常被认为是放飞白日梦的地方，我们周围舒适和熟悉的环境放飞了想象力，使其可以重构时间和情感。对于 Gaston Bachelard 在《空间诗学》（1969 年）中所写的文章来说，外界的记忆永远不会与家乡的记忆具有相同的调性，通过回忆这些记忆，我们可以增加我们的梦想储备；我们从来都不是真正的历史学家，但总是接近诗人，我们的情感也许不过是一种失落的诗歌的表达。 [VI] 事实上，Goldblatt 已经描述了在她自己的家中创作的独特体验，在那里"...被延展的时间框架以及我对空间和其中的人的熟悉意味着任何形式的观察几乎都可以预先存在于内在，所以当我拍摄时，我甚至将摄影“瞬间”识别为已经存在的东西"[VII]

Goldblatt一边勾勒出她想象空间的轮廓，一边让观众进入一种独特的时空安排；在柏格森的具体知觉概念中，记忆的功能是将过去与现在交织成一种有意识的连续统一体。然而，大脑无法处理所有可能的感官输入点。相反，人类的感官只被调谐到接收身体在环境的动作相关的频率。其他所有内容都被删除或未收到。例如，眼睛不会记录数百万个单独的光波振动；他们给了一个不变的形象。数以千计的雨滴没有被捕获和计数，相反，体验是雨。通过这种方式，我们的感官预先确定了由这种感知所产生的记忆的物理界限和时间性。”[VIII]

在Goldblatt的图像中，她仿佛将观众的眼睛调整到了一个新的频率，捕捉到水的运动或平息墙上阳光照射下的短暂火焰，帮助观众理解她父亲模糊的五官。一个黑暗的房间。我们凝视着脆弱的皮肤、蓬乱的头发和休息时闭上眼睛的奇妙错综复杂的微小永恒。这些图像与看到她的母亲走进浴缸或在凉爽的花园中呼吸新鲜空气的触觉、瞬间的快乐并列，同时知道这些景象与冰冻的湖泊让我们感受到的永恒性一样短暂而多变。有时候，除了等待和享受当下，别无他法。

Gilles Deleuze写道，他试图揭示事件的本质，而事件总是需要长时间的等待。他想体验这种等待，并看到事件的"同时"，成为发生的“时间段”。[IX]在静止的概念中，Deleuze讨论了没有人物或运动的电影镜头的重要性。例如，空旷的空间被认为是重要的，因为它缺乏任何可能的内容，而静物构图则从它所包含的对象中获得了意义的希望。在分析小津康二郎的电影晚春（1949）时，Deleuze将花瓶的长镜头确定为具有持续时间的静物，因为它通过周围不断变化的情绪状态而持续存在。[X]在这个镜头中，小津专注于花瓶几秒钟，就像角色纪子因不得不与父亲分开而感到非常悲伤一样。花瓶成为象征她情感转变的对象。用禅宗的话来说，花瓶的远景被解读为静止的象征，它可以支持将深刻而矛盾的情绪转变为统一超越的永久状态。 [XI]

当看到Goldblatt的古董手表躺在阳光照射的架子上时，小津的花瓶引起了共鸣。手表的功能很可能会被它的象征意义所取代——一件心爱的物品，一件传家宝——它躺在没有其他物品的架子上，在人们思考这个废弃的计时器及其定义的转变时增添了些许宁静。

另一组静物作品，几个圆形的抽象图像在对称和形式上呈现出微妙的美感。以特写呈现，图像在比例上缺乏锚点。艺术家描述了这些作品的制作过程，"这些作品是利用疾病的残骸和碎屑，用药物和体液将组织的织物染色，然后让阳光穿透拍摄而成的。它们变成了隐喻的风景，代表了生命的原始循环和保存，并探索了释然放手中所固有的变革可能性”[XII]这些痕迹使持续时间的概念物质化，呼吸和身体在组织在薄纱上的累积痕迹就像照片上的累积的光线。

也许这个系列中一些最神秘和视觉上引人注目的图像是在光线缺失的地方拍摄的，也许是客观感知在情感的洗礼中摇摇欲坠的地方。在这里，相机无法完成任务；没有清晰的轮廓可以表现，取而代之的是，照相设备只能召唤出丰富、抽象的红色和黑色的涂鸦，在曝光不足的画面中，Goldblatt父亲的脸轮廓清晰可见。当然，艺术家对那一刻的记忆不会是红色的，事实上，相机对Goldblatt强烈凝视的转译总是缺乏生命经验。然而，同样，强烈的情绪也会破坏记忆中对现实的描绘，使其模糊、不确定或缺乏细节。在回忆录 Speak Memory（1967 年）的序言中，弗拉基米尔·纳博科夫（Vladimir Nabokov）提到了将过去的记忆形象化的困难。 '我修改了很多段落，并试图对失忆的昏暗做点什么。我发现有时，通过高度集中注意力，中性的污迹可能被强制成为美丽的焦点，从而突然出现可被识别的景象，匿名的侍者拥有了姓名。[XIII]

正是在所有复杂状态下的持续时间的体验，促进了有意识的思考，这种思考发生在感知和记忆形成之间的间隙中。 Goldblatt对阳光窗帘的波光粼粼的景色提供了光能给予清晰解释的可能性，以及白天之后是夜晚，春天之后是冬天的知识。也许，通过这种方式，Goldblatt的作品开启了新的思维方式，让观众意识到她在时间上穿越世界、积累记忆、感知生活的方式。

Christiane Pratsch Monarchi，2013年7月

What is the essence of time? In 1889, Henri Bergson focussed on the human perception of time as something that is affected by our inner experience.[I] His idea of 'pure duration' was what the immediate consciousness experienced, for example, when hearing a melody or seeing a shooting star, during moments of lived experience which the mind registers in continuous fusion of past and present rather than consecutive, photographic stills from particular points in time and space. Bergson's idea of duration was the type of experience one had when watching sugar dissolve in a glass of water, waiting for it to become a sugared drink. Here, the heightened perception of waiting for this transformation created the physical experience of enduring time, implicating the body as resident host to the senses and subsequent memory.[II] Specifically, the passing of the present into the past in one continuous fusion created, for Bergson, one's feeling of the duration of an event. This concept can be useful in investigating Lydia Goldblatt's recent works, in which perception resides at the cusp of memory.

In considering Goldblatt's series, entitled Still Here, a diptych illustrates points in time upon the same surface of a puddle: the first a still reflection of autumn foliage, the second image gently blurred by raindrops on its surface. What does the experience of an autumn afternoon look like? Where does the mind go between these temporal viewpoints; indeed, how long was the lived memory of this experience? An image of a curled up bee invites investigation, its glorious pelt radiant in a small suntrap. Light passes through its now flightless wings in a poetic reference to the sunfilled curtains that shimmer in Goldblatt's nearby photographs. How long has this bee lain prone, allowing our unending gaze? Did it once have a menacing sting; is that what we remember?

It has been said that the photograph has no memory; rather, it is the material manifestation of memory itself.[III] The camera records time and makes it physical, capturing time moving instantly into the past like memory is created from present perception. Goldblatt has stated that she is interested in the collapsing and suspension of time that occurs in the realisation of our short span within it…… Time can speed up, rush towards conclusions, yet equally stop, languid and glittering with stillness.' [IV] How does one ever process the memory of someone else's face, their gaze, when these are constantly changing and becoming? In 1764, Immanuel Kant described the phenomenon of encountering something sublime, for example seeing something large and powerful like a storm or a range of mountains. Kant believed the resulting emotions to be countered by one's cognition, which ultimately resolved into a surge of energy that gave the viewer a pleasant feeling. But it is more than pleasant, as Kant said, '[t]he sublime moves, the beautiful charms… The sublime… is sometimes accompanied with a certain dread, or melancholy; in some cases merely with quiet wonder.'[V] The longer one gazes at the sublime landscapes created by close-ups of the artist's father's skin, one can see that eyelids, exquisite eyelashes and mysterious folds and hollows become the imagination's valleys, dunes and steppes - an entire earth illuminated by sunlight. Goldblatt's camera has succeeded in simultaneously creating a lasting memorial to the temporal beauty of the body, as well as crystallising the essence of Bergson's quest to understand 'duration: Accumulating many non-moments spent waiting, existing, sharing that time marks the fluidity of memory - half an hour studying the perfection of a mole or a bee could easily seem like an instant. None of these images would likely have been retained as a memory without the aid of a camera and there is no clue as to their chronological passing. Instead, one can see multiple moments of an ever-arrested Bergsonian 'present' opening up sublime vistas that belie the infinitesimal shutter speed of Goldblatt's camera.

Is it possible for the viewer to access the memory that the artist may have in making these works, while resident in her own family home? The home is often cited as the place where daydreams take wing, the comfort and familiarity of our surroundings freeing the imagination to recontextualise time and emotion. For Gaston Bachelard, writing in The Poetics of Space (1969), [m]emories of the outside world will never have the same tonality as those of home and, by recalling these memories, we add to our store of dreams; we are never real historians, but always near poets, and our emotion is perhaps nothing but an expression of a poetry that was lost.' [VI] Indeed, Goldblatt has described the unique experience of making work in her own family home, where ‘...both the extended time frame and my deep familiarity with the space and people within it means that any form of observation almost pre-exists internally, so that when I photograph, I recognise even a photographic "moment" as something that has already been in existence' [VII]

While giving access to the outlines of her imaginative space, Goldblatt allows the viewer into a unique time-space arrangement; in Bergson's idea of concrete perception, memory functions to interweave the past into the present in a sort of conscious continuum. The mind, however, could not process all possible points of sensory input; rather, the human senses are tuned only to those frequencies that are pertinent to the action of the body in its environment. All others are edited out or not received. The eyes, for example, do not register the millions of individual vibrations of light waves; they give instead a constant image. Thousands of individual raindrops are not arrested and counted and, instead, the experience is of rain. In this way our senses predetermine the physical limits and temporality of memories made from this perception."[VIII]

In Goldblatt's images, it is as if she has adjusted the viewer's eyes to a new frequency, arresting the motion of water or stilling the ephemeral blaze of a sunlit shape on the wall, helping the viewer to make sense of her father's blurred features emerging from a darkened room. We gaze for a small eternity at the marvelous intricacies of fragile skin, bursts of hair and eyes closed in rest. These images are juxtaposed with the haptic, momentary pleasure of seeing her mother stepping into a bath or breathing fresh air in a cool garden, while knowing that these vistas are as just as fleeting and mutable as the perceived permanence of a lake frozen over. Sometimes there is nothing more to do than wait, and to take pleasure in the moment.

Gilles Deleuze wrote that he tried to uncover the nature of events and that events always involve a long period of waiting. He wanted to experience this waiting and see the 'meanwhile' of the event, the period of becoming.[IX] Within the idea of stillness, Deleuze discussed the significance of cinematic shots devoid of characters or movement. For example, the empty space was seen to be significant because it lacks any possible content, while the still life composition holds promise of meaning from the objects it contains. Analysing Yasujiro Ozu's film Late Spring (1949), Deleuze identified the long shot of the vase as a still life that exhibits duration, as it endures through changing emotional states around it.[X] In this shot, Ozu focusses for several seconds on a vase, just as the character Noriko feels great sorrow at having to separate from her father. The vase becomes an object symbolic of her emotional transformation. In Zen terms, the long shot of the vase has been read as symbolic of stasis, which can support the change of deep, contradictory emotion into a permanent state of unified transcendence. [XI]

Ozu's vase resonates when looking at Goldblatt's image of an antique wristwatch lying prone on a sunlit shelf. The function of the watch will likely be superseded by its symbolic meaning - a beloved object, a family heirloom - and its prone position on a shelf devoid of other objects lends a serenity in considering this discarded timepiece and its definitional shift.

Another set of still life works, several circular abstract images present a subtle beauty in their symmetry and form. Presented in close-up, the images lack an anchoring point in terms of scale. The artist has described the making of these works, which "utilize the debris and detritus of illness, and are made by staining the fabric of tissues with medicines and bodily fluids, and then photographing them under the penetrating light of the sun. They become metaphorical landscapes that represent the primal cycle and preservation of life and explore the transformative possibilities inherent in letting go.'[XII] These traces have made physical the idea of duration, the cumulative trace of breath and body on tissue like accumulated light on the photographic plate.

Perhaps some of the most mystifying and visually arresting images in this series were taken where the light is missing, perhaps where objective perception falters in the wash of emotion. Here, the camera fails in its task; no crisp outlines can speak out and instead the apparatus can only conjur up lush, abstracted smears of reds and blacks, the outlines of Goldblatt's father's face just visible in the underexposed frame. Certainly the artist's memory of that instant would not be red and, indeed, the camera's translation of Goldblatt's intense gaze will always fall short of lived experience. However, equally, intense emotion can cause disruption to the portrayal of reality in one's memory, making it blurry, undefined or lacking in detail. In the preface to the memoir Speak Memory (1967), Vladimir Nabokov related the difficulty of visualising memories of one's past. 'I revised many passages and tried to do something about the amnesic dimness. I discovered that sometimes, by means of intense concentration, the neutral smudge might be forced to come into beautiful focus so that the sudden view could be identified, and the anonymous servant named' [XIII]

It is the experience of duration, in all its complex states, that facilitates conscious thought, which occurs in the gap between perception and the formation of memory. Goldblatt's shimmering views of sunlit curtains offer the possibility of a clarion explication brought by light, as well as the knowledge that day follows night and spring follows winter. Perhaps, in this way, Goldblatt's work enables new ways of thinking, making the viewer aware of the way he moves, temporally, through the world, accumulating memory, perceiving life.

Christiane Pratsch Monarchi, July 2013

I Suzanne Guerlac, Thinking in Time: An Introduction to Henri Bergson (Ithaca, 2006), p.5 and p.42. 1889 relates to the date that Bergson's Time and Free Will was first published, in which he explored the idea of duration.

Gaston Bachelard related Bergson's idea that we only have to watch a simple experiment, a lump of sugar dissolving in a glass of water, and we shall realise that there is indeed an objective, absolute duration that corresponds to the duration we ourselves feel' Taken from Gaston Bachelard, The Instant' in Time and The Instant: Essays in the Physics and Philosophy of Time (Manchester, 2000), pP.64-95, P.74.

III

Garrett Stewart, Frame/d Time: A Photogrammar of the Fantastic' in Stillness and Time: Photography and the Moving Image, ed. David Green and Joanna Lowry (Brighton, 2005), p.135.

Interview with Lydia Goldblatt by Christiane Monarchi for Photomonitor, December 2011. http://www. photomonitor.co.uk/2011/12/goldblatt/ (accessed August 30, 2013).

Taken from Kant's description of the sublime first published in Koenigsberg in 1764 in Immanuel Kant, Observations on the Feeling of the Beautiful and the Sublime, trans. John T. Goldthwait (Berkeley, 1960), p.47.

Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space, trans. Maria Jolas (Boston, 1969, repr. 1994), p.6.

VII

Interview with Lydia Goldblatt (see note IV). VIII Discussed in Henri Bergson, Matter and Memory, trans. Nancy Margaret Paul and W. Scott Palmer (France, 1896; repr. New York, 1991), pp.206-07.

Yve Lomax relates Deleuze's ideas in 'Thinking Stillness' in Stillness and Time, p.59. Original ideas from Gilles Deleuze, Negotiations 1972-1990, trans. Martin Joughin (New York, 1995), p.160 and Deleuze and Guattari, What is Philosophy?, trans. Hugh Tomlinson and Graham Burchell (New York, 1994), P.158.

Gilles Deleuze, Cinema 2: The Time-Image, trans. Hugh Tomlinson and Robert Galeta (London, 1989; repr. London, 2005), p.16.

Schrader, Paul. Transcendental Style in Film: Ozu, Bresson, Dreyer. (Berkeley, 1972), pp.3-55, PP.49-50.

Interview with Lydia Goldblatt (see note IV).

XII

Vladimir Nabokov, Speak Memory (London, 1967), P.9.