【展讯】劳丽丽参加“墨方”的展览“咄咄逼人的美人儿”将于1月11日开幕
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Dan’er, Dong Jinling, Gu Ying, He ZikeHuang Shuofei, Lang Can, Lo Lai Lai NatalieLiang Wei, Liu Yujia, Luo Qingmin, Wang RuiXiao Hanqiu, Yang Guangnan, Ye Funa这有任何进攻性吗？构成挑衅吗？政治更正确或更不正确吗？先秦便有著录的语气词“咄”，到东西汉才相遇为表惊奇嗔怪的“咄咄”，又百余年，才在东晋卫夫人为其弟子王逸少所写的评语中凝为“咄咄逼人”这一十足霸凌的成语，而要这盛气凌人的四字一词与听起来薄幸轻浮的“美人儿”直接联署起来，则有待20世纪的译家蔡鸿滨先生：是他在面对法语La Belle Noiseuse的逼迫时，用“咄咄逼人的美人儿”迻译了这一最初作为巴尔扎克笔下虚构的十七世纪大师画作之名出现，如今又被米歇尔·塞尔在《万物本原》中反复援用和引申，最终在动荡的概念之海上锚定为可能性与繁多本尊及其形象的致密短语。字、词、句各有其出身、门第，与境遇，一个短语以如是形态在此，并不意味着它理所当然如此或必然一成不变的生发同样的意义，常常被我们信手拈来视若无睹的习语们，其实千钧一发，稍纵即逝。我们盯紧变动中的世界，看能不能拦住或截下一个片刻，用某个临时句法，组织起来，悬吊起来。想象有秩序，还是服服帖帖的屈从于这混乱，并且用各种材料、声音、颜色，承认混乱的威权；假装我们还能组织起某种腔调，激发或至少应和所谓世界的节奏，还是我们干脆同床异梦，呼吁分离者从速，逃跑的抓紧。第一次在《万物本原》读到“咄咄逼人的美人儿”，我就飞了，无数面孔、身体，巨浪般涌来，潮汐涨落，拉着、扯着，悭吝拒绝又慷慨给予我同一样东西：名和义。这也是M在出版第一卷《资本论》前夕给他的同志和遗产执行人N的建议（其实是命令吧），他说“我从里面看到了绝妙深刻的讽刺”。请相信我，不管你因为这一标题想到的会是什么——性别抗议、女性主义、女权意识，尤其这些——，和我试图但肯定没有能力通过这个展览开启的讨论相比，都过于还原论，太过确信和呆滞。勉强做一个决定的话，作为策展人，我愿意你相信出现在这儿且“咄咄逼人的美人儿”最终是无名和无义的，这结论看起来会更接近塞尔的哲学而不是里维特的电影。塞尔说：“一切事物都建立在可能性的基础上，一切艺术作品都起源于咄咄逼人的美人儿，一切状态都来自混沌。最常见的遗忘就是忘记可能性。它经常被人遗忘，以至于变得模糊不清了。”不管这一切看起来多么奇怪，或者所有这些艺术家放在一起多么协调或不调，不管A空间和B空间是否彼此褫夺或加冕，要的，是足够多的矛盾和解体。只有如是持守于动荡和变化，我们才能在表里性别的同义结构里坚持到场，并突兀。因为这次是援引的援引的援引，其援引的佶屈程度足以模糊任何实指。The 16 artists gathered here, including the curator, are all female. Is it aggressive? Is it provocative? Is it more—or less—politically correct? The origin of the interjection "duo" can be traced back to the Pre-Qin period. It evolved into "duo duo", an expression of wonder and accusation, during the Eastern and Western Han dynasties, and eventually ended up as part of the menacing idiom “duo duo bi ren” (to be aggressive), a term coined by Lady Wei of Eastern Jin in the comments she wrote for her disciple Wang Yishao (Wang Xizhi) more than a century later. As for how the overbearing four-character idiom became associated with the flighty phrase “mei ren’er” (pretty woman), one has the 20th-century translator Cai Hongbin to thank for: confronted with the French phrase “La Belle Noiseuse” (the beautiful troublemaker), which originated from Honoré de Balzac’s fictional title of a 17th-century painting, was cited repeatedly and expanded in Michel Serres’s Genèse, and eventually became a compact phrase that contains various possibilities as well as countless noumena and their images anchored to the turbulent sea of ideas, Cai came up with the Chinese translation “duo duo bi ren de mei ren’er” (aggressive beauty).Characters, words, sentences—they all come from different backgrounds, belong to different classes, and are met with different fates. The fact that a phrase appears in its present form does not necessarily mean that it ought to be so, or that it will keep generating the exact same meaning. The idioms we often take for granted and look at without seeing are really hanging by a hair. They are gone before we realize they were there. Exhibitions are the same. We fix our eyes on the ever-changing world, attempting to stop or capture a moment, to organize and hang it up with makeshift grammar. What you see is yourself: your deafness, your muteness, your stupidity, your fool's dream. Should one imagine the existence of order, or surrender to this chaos wholeheartedly, acknowledging the authority of chaos with different materials, sounds, and colors? Suppose we can still put together some sort of voice that activates, or at least responds to, the so-called rhythm of the world? Or should we resort to becoming strangers sleeping in the same bed, tell the detached to make haste in their detachment, and urge the runaways to hurry up and run away? I flew apart the first time I came across the phrase "La Belle Noiseuse" in Genèse. Numerous faces and bodies rushed in like huge waves, like the ebb and flow of tides. They tugged and pulled, denying me ungenerously and granting me generously the same things: who I am and what I am.The moonlight bustled, dazzling and deafening. The genealogy of art grew madly, dropping and covering the ground with fruits of contradiction. The audience of this exhibition must read Balzac’s Unknown Masterpiece (Le Chef-d'œuvre inconnu). This is also the advice (more like order) M gave E, his comrade and the executor of his will, on the eve of the publication of the first volume of Das Kapital. He described it as a “chef d'œuvre full of delightful irony." [1]Please believe me, no matter what you are reminded of when you look at the title of this exhibition—especially gender protests, feminism, feminist consciousness, etc.—they are too reductionist, too sure of themselves, and too rigid in comparison to the discussion I intend for this exhibition but am almost certainly unable to carry off. If I have to make a decision as a curator, I'd rather you believe that the belle noiseuse we have here is ultimately unknown and meaningless. This conclusion would seem closer to Serres’s philosophy than Rivette’s film. “Everything is founded in the possible,” wrote Serres, “all representations originate in the belle noiseuse, all states come to us from chaos. The most common forgetting is that of the possible. It is so much forgotten that it is not visible.” [2]No matter how strange it all seems, how harmonious or incongruous the artists' works look when they are put together, no matter whether Space A and Space B choose to enthrone or dethrone each other, we need enough contradictions and disintegrations. Only when we hold on to unrest and change like this can we persist in being present and standing out in the synonymous structure of gender from inside out. The practice of judging something by its name won't work here. Because we are dealing with a citation of a citation of a citation; there are enough twists and turns in the citation process to blur any concrete meaning. However, you can still judge something by its name—Whoever is a troublemaker, is beautifulWhoever is beautiful, is a troublemaker.[1]: Marx to Engels, February 25, 1867, Marx Engels On Literature and Art, Progress Publishers, 1976; https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1867/letters/67_02_25.html[2]: Michel Serres, Genesis, translated by Geneviève James & James Nielson, Ann Arbor, The University of Michigan Press, 1995.
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