G Art Museum

One of the most renowned urban retreat is known as the "House of Happiness," a place even outsiders and stray cats have heard about. Situated in a northern valley by a stream, this modern grey building stands out. What leaves a lasting impression is the inscription adorning its entrance gate: "Haha, those who wear prosthetic ears see themselves." An elderly retiree who had relocated to the retreat remarked, "This place feels like a club for dreamers."

 

One winter afternoon at the nursing home, the rotating hosts organized an event called "Logotherapy." They invited everyone to attempt to describe a mental image using words.

 

A: During the Spring Festival, I returned to my ancestral home. It had been many years since my last visit, yet the courtyard and furnishings remained unchanged. Everything looked the same, but people had changed. In the living room, I examined family photos from different eras, study awards, my childhood doodles, and propaganda calendars from the 70s. The past was vividly resurrected. There was also a yellowed photograph on the wall featuring a calligraphy inscription reading "A long way to march forward steadily." The photograph depicted a moonlit night with a steam train approaching along an embankment from the distance.

In the past, I would often contemplate this photograph, and the scenes within it would invariably ignite my imagination. The image exuded an atmosphere of desolation, loneliness, and bleakness that had captivated me since childhood. The lonely train driver frequently gazed back at the journey behind; fully loaded building materials patiently awaited their allocation to the places where they were needed most. In the slow-motion of the distant mountains, one could hear the steam whistle amid thick smoke. The pale moonlight glistened upon the railway tracks as they glided ahead. The mournful tide sighed softly, reluctant to disturb the traveling strangers. In the deep of night, a faint and indescribable sense of hope permeated the scene, a kind of courage propelling one into the subsequent unknown, much like the train on that moonlit night. Perhaps, ultimately, humans must carry that "indescribable faint hope" within them and march towards a new dawn, even amidst solitude, just like that train on a moonlit night.

 

B: I'm intrigued by all the blurred photos, not any single one in particular, but rather a whole category. I often wonder who dictates the fictional narratives hidden behind these photos - is it the photographer or the viewer? Does it belong to the photographer or the viewer? The interplay between the photo and reality, where repetition and divergence coexist, has this dynamic already begun to shape the destiny of the image?

 

C: In a dream I had yesterday, I encountered a photo of the Yangtze River enveloped in thick fog. This dream, surprisingly, turned out to be a "live scene" left in the aftermath of the events from Leaving white Emperor City at Dawn. On a clear morning in the Tang Dynasty, monkeys, boatmen, and poets, along with the Baidi Fortress, clouds, the river, sailing boats, and the mountain gorge, all made their way into the photo, reenacting the scene of leisurely boating through picturesque landscapes. Beyond the setting and the characters, I recollect that in the latter part of the dream, certain concealed relationships gradually came to the fore: time and the river following separate trajectories; the sound of oars and the distant cries of monkeys on both riverbanks occasionally interrupting the conversations between the boatman and the poet; the clouds and the sailing boat, in conjunction with the overlay of countless mountains, creating shifts in distinct dimensions, as they measured the distance between Baidi Fortress and Jiangling; the morning sunlight casting its glow on everything, including the joyous sentiment of the poet... It wasn't long before all these scenes unfolded that I encountered a vast photo of the river - a photo dating back to the Tang Dynasty!

 

D: I've consistently cautioned you against becoming entrapped in the fossilization of images. Photography is undergoing a degradation process, which compels me to resist these photographs continually. Digital images foster an insatiable expansion of your desire for recording and viewing. When they are ubiquitously present, images forfeit their moral integrity as works of art. They sacrifice the value of the "hidden" for the allure of the "visible." In the contemporary era, we find ourselves wandering within the wilderness of images, trapped in a deluge of images that we cannot break free from. People are slowly but surely transitioning into outsiders in their own lives, all because of these images. Behold, in the modern imagery, desires diluted over time, the loneliness amidst the hustle and bustle, misconstrued information, and simple joys have all been relentlessly disseminated. In this world, only the eight-hour workday, fate, and a few remaining virtues still endure.

 

……, ……

 

The other residents in the retreat had also penned their sentiments, and these writings were neatly displayed in the corridor for others to peruse. During dinner, the rotating host at the nursing delivered a speech with a somewhat theatrical tone, remarking, "Today, we aspire to no longer be dependent on words, tools, and images, to free ourselves from the constraints of the body and rules... All the pixelated cacophony of time seems to be in the process of reconstructing this new yet ancient world..." Shortly afterward, she directed everyone's attention, exclaiming, "Look, those flames!" However, all people could see was smoke.

 

Text By Lin Linfeng

Cheng Shida was born in December 1950 in Fuzhou City, Fujian Province.

 

In 1983, he became a member of the Fujian Photographers Association and has held various photography positions for Fujian magazines like Minsheng, Yipin, Tuicang, as well as in the realm of self-media.

 

His passion for and involvement in photography began in the 1970s, spanning various stages in photography. Over time, photography has evolved into his preferred means of experiencing life, observing the world, and contemplating its intricacies.

 

In recent years, his dedication to learning and hands-on experience in photography has led to a shift in his perspective, culminating in fresh insights and exploration within contemporary photography.

Located in Fuzhou, the capital of Fujian Province, G Art Museum is dedicated to exploring the local culture in depth and presenting various academic researches and art practices via diversified exhibitions. Lectures, salons, workshops, and trans-disciplinary activities are all on the annual schedule in multiple types of spaces at G Art Museum, such as library, public education classroom, café, etc.

 

G Art Museum has long been supporting the new generation of local artists, and working closely with local art lovers and cultural groups and communities. It regularly invites art groups, artists, curators, designers, and writers from outside of Fujian and around the world to create artwork in Fujian on an artist-in-residency basis. Besides, it actively promotes cultural exchanges across the Taiwan Strait.