细胞在哮喘中上腾下跳

高风笔下不间断痉挛着的自我与古代经典
杨小彦
 
走进高风在北京的画室，突然感到一阵紧张与窒息。其实，他的画室颇有条理，墙上靠着一溜尺幅巨大的作品，内容是对古代经典名作的改画。我远远一看，觉得确有雅致在其中弥漫。可是，稍微端详，便发现那是一场货真价实的视觉骗局，一场关于经典与自我之关系的奇特反语。之后，我开始感到了一种对立，一种对陌生者初来乍到时所产生的内在挤压。  于是，紧张与窒息就升腾起来，挡都挡它不住。

这真是一种周星驰式的无厘头感受。

从高风所提供的艺术经历看，我想他的作品大致上可以分成三类，第一类是行为艺术，第二类是以自我为对象的架上油画，第三类便是一开始我进入他的画室时所看到的被改画后的古代经典，也算是架上。而联结这三类作品的，却是一种对细胞的持续描绘。

在高风画室一角，悬挂着他的一些早期作品，很多张，大大小小，似乎像是一张合成后和成品，内容全是各种细胞的放大图，是用铅笔、水彩或毛笔涂抹而成的，像草图，更像是对细胞进行观察后所留下的笔迹。我发现这件作品所透露的情绪，包含了高风其后在绝大部分作品中都蕴含着的一种挥之不去的、生理意义上的、隐匿其真相的、与生俱来的恐惧。

开始是观察，渐渐的，观察不够了，就开始咀嚼，再后来，咀嚼也不够了，因为已经扩散，已经迅速复制和克隆，成倍地、几何级数地在生长，于是就惊慌失措，被置换，在置换在走向远古的经典。我相信高风正是这样走过来的。这个过程，颇像一种器物的生长，而且是一种生物学意义上的生长，从一点开始，裂变、冲突、和解、再裂变、再冲突、再度和解，直到走向脱离个体领地，走向失控的遥远异域为止。但那时，生长本身就已经没有意义，而徒具痕迹可以留存了，真实的器物同时也成为异类，让原本与它密切相关的人类也相形见绌。

观察阶段的高风是带有某种生物性质的，他对不同种类的细胞，包括与细胞相关的液体进行观察和描绘。这些细胞和液体，如何没有专业知识做支撑，外人大概是看不出其中会有多大的差别，但一旦把它们置入艺术家的“显微镜”之下，其中的差别就悬空出来了。我怀疑正是这当中的悬空，促成了高风创作的激情，进而把这悬空变成事实，变成可以辨认的“作品”。接着，高风进入行为艺术，用一种彻底让皮肤发麻的方式，去体验细胞与液体冲刷的滑腻感觉。这是一种内在的性感觉，和肉体高度一体，所以也成为一种力量，不可抗拒地挤压着来自肉体内部的分泌物的排泄。从这一意义来看，行为艺术本身是不可观赏的，而是体验的，而且是用自身的肉体去体验。

这让我刹时想起一本奇怪的书籍，书名叫《精子战争》，一本从细胞水平揭示男女冲突的社会生理学著作。作者用了一种诡异而又不无色情的客观方式，仔细描绘了男女在情感的遮掩下，是如何表达他们的肉体意志的。当中，真正的战胜者并不是我们所想象的男性，而是女性。女性用了一种让男人们意料不到的柔情，战胜了表面看来是男权统治的等级社会。我不能肯定高风也阅读过这本书。艺术家大都凭直觉从事创作。我从来也不相信那些劝导艺术家去读书的陈腐概念，以为艺术创作的高度和对书籍知识的掌握有关。我甚至还以为，过多的书籍知识只能败坏直觉，从而让艺术成为无根之木无源之水。

我估计高风从事行为艺术的时间不太长，很快就重新回到架上领域，探讨用平面表达细胞的游动与变异。这时，细胞在他的观感中开始浓缩成一个符号，那就是凹陷，或者叫吞噬，或者叫合并。

他开始画一系列带肖像的作品。这肖像像是自画像，又像是年青人的特指图形，没有五官，只有一个凹陷的或吞噬的或合并的肉洞，以及肉体向四周的渐次溶化。

而这个“四周”，却是他生活的地方，比如北京。

也就是说，高风一直在想象一种生命成长与溶化的历程。开始是“宠物”(其实是对“宠物”的反讽)，接着是“蓝色生物”系列，想象细胞可能的性状，再接着是“生物今生”系列，把自己也置入其间，体会变异的孤独。最后，也就是最近，高风的“生物”走向古代经典，通过“凹陷”与“溶化”来分解过去视觉文化的辉煌。

“生物今生”之“魔换系列”和“古生物前世系列”恰成对比，表达了高风对生命与历史关系的视觉认识。“魔换”是对现世的嘲讽，而“古生物前世”则是对经典的胡搞，两者合在一起，便让生命从自以为是的尊严走向它的原点，那就是细胞水平上的无目的胡逛乱游和生命繁殖与复制意义上的纵欲狂欢，它恰巧应合了当今流行的大众犬儒主义的谄媚俗笑与昏话碎语。结果是，在高风笔下，组成生命的细胞就像那些不受约束而又地位低下四处乱窜的精虫，全都患上了先天的哮喘，呼喊着上腾上跳，痉挛着走向当下，也走向古代。而高风本人则站在这腾跳和痉挛的中心，沉默着，寻找尚未到来的答案，关于生命细胞的答案，关于生活消失与新生的答案。也许，这答案永远不会来，也许，根本就没有这样的答案。但不要紧，高风等待着，用了他那年龄所无法理解的耐心，等待注定等待不来的结局。

2008-6-13

广州中山大学

Dynamic Asthmatic Cells – the continuously spastic self and traditional classics under Gao Feng’s brush
Yang Xiaoyan

Walking into Gao Feng’s Beijing studio, a sudden tension and suffocation rushed over me. Although his studio appeared to be quite neat, a row of paintings in large dimensions re-appropriating ancient classical masterpieces were lined up against the wall. From afar, they seemed to be dispersive of elegance throughout the room. However, as I gazed at them, I realized that they were true visual deceptions, a unique sarcasm between the classics and the self. At that moment, I felt a sense of opposition, a kind of internal impression for beginners. Soon, the tension and suffocation elevated in an irresistible manner.

This is precisely the bewildering impression of Zhou Xingchi’s meaninglessness satires.

Looking at Gao Feng’s artistic experiences, I have separated his works into three general categories. The first is his performance art, and the second is his works on canvas revolving around the self, and the third is his modified classical paintings I saw in his studio, which can also be considered works on canvas. Combining these three bodies of work, we can see his continuous portrayal of cells.

In a corner of Gao Feng’s studio, some of his earlier works are hung, large and small, like synthetic end-products, the content of which is magnified images of the cell done in pencil, water color, or with brushes. They look like drawings, or even like notes taken as the artist observed the cells. I sensed the emotions Gao projected into this work, as well as his continuous, physical, his disguised and his natural fear. 
It began by observing, which gradually became insufficient, and then it became necessary to digest, but that also became insufficient, for as it spread, it began to replicate and clone itself in multiplicity, growing exponentially. Then it was in a state of panic and mitosis, replaced by extending to the distant classicism. I believe this was Gao Feng’s journey, a process of growth for an object, a biological growth that began, split, became conflicted, resolved itself and then split, became conflicted and resolved itself again until it departed from its individual territory and ventured towards the distant unknown. Then, growth became meaningless, with traces of formality kept while the actual object became non-human, outshining the humanity that was originally closely related to it. 
In the process of observation, Gao Feng has certain biological features. He observes and portrays different types of cells, including fluids related to the cells. Without any professional background, most people wouldn’t be able to see the difference in these cells and fluids, although once they are placed under the artist’s “microscope” the difference between them becomes apparent. I would imagine, it is this unknown that inspired Gao Feng’s creative passion, allowing him to transform the abstract into reality, into distinguishable “artworks.” Thereupon, Gao Feng tapped into performance art by completely numbing his skin to experience the slippery feeling between the cell and its fluids. It is an internalized sexual sensation, as powerful as the physical sensation that becomes a type of strength that excretes unstoppable body fluids. To this level, performance art is not visually pleasing, but is to be experienced with the physical body. 
At that split moment, I was reminded of a strange book called War of Semen, a volume unveiling the socio-biological conflicts between men and women. The writer uses an absurd yet asexual and objective approach to portray how men and women express their physical will while concealing their emotions. In this volume, the true fighter is not the male as we might have imagined, but female. Females use their tenderness - unforeseen by men - to overcome the classifications of society that are dominated by men. I am uncertain whether Gao Feng has also read this book. Most artists’ creativity is based on their instincts, and I am not a believer in the passé concepts of persuading artists to read in order to reflect one’s command of knowledge through his artistic creativity. I even believe that bookish knowledge can hinder one’s instincts, making art a rootless plant or sourceless water.
I don’t think Gao Feng worked with performance art for long, but he soon returned to works on canvas, exploring the travels and variations of the cells in two-dimensions. This was when he condensed cells into symbols of his senses, hollow, swallowing, or amalgamating.
He began with a series of portraiture. This series of self-portraits somewhat resembles the thumb stickers that are popular among young people. They did not have any facial organs, but appeared hollow, devouring, like merged holes of flesh, with the flesh dissolving into its surroundings.
This “surrounding” was where Gao lived, a place like Beijing.
In other words, Gao Feng has always been imagining the journey of life and its dissolution. It began with “pets,” then his “blue life” series, an imagination of the possible sexuality of cells, and then his “biological life” series involved himself in the experience of the loneliness of transformation. Lastly, and most recently, Gao Feng’s “biology” was directed toward the ancient classics, and using the “hollow” and “dissolving” to dissect the glory of the visual culture of the past.
 “Biological life,” “Magical series,” and “The Last Life of Archeological Beings” contrast with each other, expressing Gao Feng’s visual understanding of the relationship between life and history. “Magic” is his sarcastic commentary on the world at present, whereas “The Last Life of Archeological Beings” is a trial of the classics, combining the two together in order to allow lives that believed in dignity to return to their origin – a cellular random travel met with the unrestrained celebration of reproduction and the replication of life, which coincidentally corresponds to scrutiny of the kitsch and random commentary of today’s popular cynicism. As a result, under Gao Feng’s brush, the making of life is like the lowly yet unrestrained travel of sperm， born with stamina, jumping up and down, traveling toward the contemporary spastically, toward the past. Whereas Gao Feng is standing in the mist of this random spasm, quietly searching for the unattained answers, answers about the lives of cells, answers about the loss and rebirth of life. Perhaps, the answer will never come; perhaps, there is no answer for it to start with. Nevertheless, Gao Feng waits, with the patience that age does not allow, waiting for the outcome of predestined a inconsequence.

June 13, 2008
Zhongshan University, Guangzhou